The Accursed Cartographer

Oh, wow. I have never been critiqued like this before! Thank you. This is going on the back burner so I can work on something else, but I will keep these crits in mind when I do go back to it. I had no idea that I changed tenses, or that my prose was so passive. It was fabulous, to see all this.

Thank you!

bear wrote:This is (probably) a novel not in chapters. I'm not used to writing for an audience, but that is what this piece is intended for - an audience. I usually just write for myself and post work occasionally. BEWARE: One character's title has the same letters as Salami. It is not Salami. Plus made up language.

The Accursed Cartographer

I set down the pack and sighed. My eyes had started to hurt again. They had been bothering me more and more, those days. I wasn’t really sure why. I was still young and strong. Eyes only hurt the old.
(Not the greatest hook here, are her eyes important? If so why? Really the first line should hook... not in this case)

I was two days way from the sea. The air wasn’t salty anymore – not with these mountains. The land had started as stones jutting from the water, then cliffs, and now these monoliths, green and grey and so beautiful.
(Think of a painting think how it shows the beauty, show us this beauty don't tell us. Use the five senses. Hearing, Seeing, Smelling, Feeling and Tasting. It's also too telly, show instead of telling.)

I’d talked to Saddi, Horse Father. He told me where the tallest mountain was.

“Go to the top,” he had said. “There you will see the world.” (This part is in the past tense so make it italics to show she's remembering.)

So that’s where I sat; a boulder on the feet of the mountain. It was like the toenail of the mountain. (Seems to me you're desperate to tell us everything but rather than enthrall or interest us, you bore us as it doesn't really show the scene.)

I emptied the back and unrolled the bed skin. It was too late to climb the mountain. (Don't tell us, show us. And also wouldn't she light a fire or something to heat some food? Just don't limit yourself in description, use this scene to get so much in. Don't just jump into next bit)

***

One of the bad things about being a Cartographer is waking up so early, just to get to the top of a mountain. The lovely thing is watching the world come alive again after a night of sleep. (Too repetive make it more interesting, and maybe describe her or him. We've no clue how they appear.)

I checked the rolls of maps in my pack, made sure that the cap on the ink was locked, made sure nothing had stolen the graphite and the rubber erasing swab in the night, and started off again. (You've such an original idea, but ya sqaunder it with the lack of imagery or description. A lot of these passages could be much better expanded on. What does the box look like, don't tell us what she uses. Show us. Work on expanding each paragraph.)

The trail I took was one well worn by the feet of Saddi’s brothers and sisters. In some of the trickier, rockier places they had carved in stairs. Some of them had designs, sprawling stories, engraved into their rock faces. (Again rather weak, and too telling, show us this. You'll hear this a lot from me I'm afraid. Tell us of how they appear don't just describe them, show us them.)

I smiled when I saw them, and went on, my bare feet blistering and popping every once and a while. I’d had to toss my boots to the side of the trail in the morning – Saddi and his brothers and sisters didn’t believe in shoes, and it was a crime to have footwear on their trails. I had small desire to upset the gods. (Hmm, this shows the first of character development I've seen.)

I reached the summit in the late evening. There was one Ara tree there. I climbed it. (Imagine I'm an alien visiting your world, I've not one clue what an Ara looks like, smells like or even feels like. Show us all this!)

I saw the world. It unravelled itself for me, the mountain range stretching one way, the hills poking up under them, like annoying younger siblings. I took out a map roll. I had part of it done – the coast to the edge of the mountain range. (I feel you wanted beauty to be seen here, but rather than that, you give us a crude description of it. You could go for ages describing a country side you only need to expand on it. Give it justice.)

While the light was still good I sat in the tree, sketching.

The morning routine when I was mapping was basic. I ordered my rolls of map paper, looked at each one of them, and checked my ink. Sometimes I’d have to make new ink. (Out of what? What did she use?)[/b]

****

I was missing a roll the next day. I got up to look for it – the only place I could imagine it rolling to was the trail. (Oh come on so emotionless, she's lost like a few days work, but no emotion, no anger, no blaming herself. Even professionals worry. And why would it only have ended up on the trail? Clear these things up.)

And sure enough, there it was, in the hands of Daeothdi. (Uh... who? Yeh, sorry we don't know who he is and where did he come from?)

I bowed my head. “May I have my map back, Daeothdi?” (Oh come on! He has taken what she worked on for yonks and she asks to politely back for it! Emotionless much! More realism, please!)

He handed it to me. “Salma. You have to keep better track of your maps.” (Wow... erm he's pretty emotionless too, I feel nothing from those words.)[/b]

I took the map, as carefully as I could. I remembered Daeothdi very well. (Perfect time to jump in with some background of who the heck he is, just some don't tell us too much, just give us some understanding.)[/b]

I also remembered his temper.

“Thank you, Daeothdi.” (And the winner of the Emotionless Award for no emotion goes to Salma! Anyway, use some less overused speech, less cliche sounding.)

“I would actually like to talk to you.” (Sounds important... no... it sounds like a friend going to me "Vernon, got a minute." Most likely being something very small. Introduce something major like this better.)

I looked up. “What?” (Please, give her more of a reaction, he's interrupted her, and she's not a little indiginant?)

“Sit down. Please.”

Daeothdi never said please to anyone. I sat down on a log. He wrinkled his nose, and sat cross-legged on the ground. (Wow first description of something on someones' face. It's a nose! Really why not other facial features?)

“Daeothdi, enlighten me.” [i](Never say this, unless it's sarcasm or someone really wise! It's not common speech except for older people.)[/b]

He pulled at his nose. That was the first strange thing about Daeothdi. Most of him was expressed through his hands and his nose.

His face was still beautiful. (How?, show us, how he's so handsome?)

“Please, Daeothdi, enlighten me.” (Again, sounding sarcastic...)

“Your daughter has grown up to be clever and beautiful.”

“Thank you, Daeothdi.” That was the greatest compliment I would probably ever get from him. (Why?)

“She needs a mother. I think that you should come to the camp and meet her again, Salma.”

I sighed. “Daeothdi, do not call me Salma anymore. That’s not my real name, and it is not right.” (Finally some emotion, though rather weak...)

Daeothdi looked like he wanted to laugh. “I suppose that is true. I suppose that you are really Salmali.”

“Daeothdi.” (Wow very expressive! Erm... not... even something like one word in speech can be expressed so strongly. Work on it.)

“You’ll come with me, Salma.”

I really wished he wouldn’t call me Salma – lovely bird, an endearment given to me by Daeothdi and Saddi. Daeothdi and I weren’t dear any more.(This bit just really confused me, names too simalar! ...Hmmm...)

We stood up, and I grabbed my pack and maps. We walked down Saddi’s trail, Daeothdi in front. It was down hill, but the going was more treach erous – stones came up faster, roots stuck themselves out with vehemence.(It works but could show it much better, rather than telling.)

I picked up my shoes once we got to the foot of the mountain and pulled them on. Daeothdi traced the path of the sun with his finger tips, waiting for me. (Her shoes are still there? That sounds highly unlikely...)

I saw satisfaction dance across his face. (Nice imagery!)

“It’s the right time of day.”

I bowed my head again. Daeothdi was doing me a great honour, taking me to the camp. He led me by the hand as the stars began to rise and the sun began to set through the twilight paths of his brothers and sisters. He allowed me to wear shoes – another honour, I’m sure, but I took it for granted. (You sure love infodumps :/... Don't.. try show it instead.)

“We will reach the camp in the morning?”

“Before then,” said Daeothdi. “The path is not so tedious.”

I nodded, and we went on. (Sounds like you wanting to skip tedious again, don't. Try and write it!.)

The sky started to turn from that dark shade blue to a purple when I started to smell the smoke from the camp. Daeothdi put a whistle to his lips, and blew rounds of short notes. And owl or a sister, I couldn’t tell, hooted in return. (Again great imagery, though show more.)

There were stairs carved into the slope. Daeothdi helped me down. (Show us this, it would appear better written then.)

The trees stopped suddenly. Daeothdi had already walked out of them and was blowing his whistle again. (Huh *blinks* Me very confused.)

I followed him.

The camp sat in the middle of the field, surrounded by mountains and trees. It didn’t seem very large from here, just a few tents. (More! Show us more.)

“Did many die over the past few winters?” I asked. (That sounds just so casual... Have some emotion girl...)

Daeothdi nodded.

The members of the camp watched them from the centre of the camp, solemn and silent, like ghosts. There was a bonfire. I recognised some of the people standing closest to it. (What's going on? Otherwise I'm just now very lost. Try making it clearer)

“Salmali,” said Daeothdi. “That is her name. She is a friend of Saddi, a sarcune, and so will stay with us for a while.”

Silence for a time. (What's the point for this?

A girl broke the silence. “Daeothdi,” she said, “Kiedoe mossan sur. Sunigung oss?” (It would be nice to see traslation somewhere, try bottom of the page.)

Daeothdi laughed. I’d never heard him laugh before. Of course he laughed, everyone did, but it seemed strange. Unnatural for him. (Why?)

So. This must be Daeothkita.

Daeothdi shook his head. “Sussan.”

“Oh.” Daeothkita seemed disappointed she had to speak my language. I remembered the way Daeothdi was about guests. Either you spoke their language, or you did not speak at all.(Why?)

“Daeothkita, please show Salmali around camp.”

Daeothkita nodded, bowed her head, and hurried to my side. She was so tall now.
My only memories of her were ages old.

“Come with me, Salmali.” She took me by the hand and pulled me towards the northern end of the camp.

“There,” she said. “Do you see it, Salmali?”

I nodded. “Moska.”

“That is how our camp is built,” she said. “Moska.”

Moska was the bear stars. It was a constellation that I frequently used for navigation. I cocked my head. The camp was shaped like Moska.

“Daeothdi stays in the centre of the camp,” said Daeothkita. “Without a tent, so he can watch over our people. Right there, at the bear’s head – that’s where – “

“I know,” I said. “I remember this camp.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Tell me,” I said, “what has changed over the years?”

“Brothers and sisters have,” she said. “And so has Daeothdi.”

“What else. Please, enlighten me, Daeothkita.”

“Yes, Salmali.” She still led me around the camp, holding my hand. She pointed at tents, at pots, even at the looms leaning up against the wooden supports, telling me the stories behind them and about the people who lived there. Memories, warm and good, grasped my hand, softening the way for my feet and lighting the sky. (I'd like to hear some of this... Show it, make us involved in the frivilous right now)

Daeothkita looked at me. “That’s all there is.”

I nodded. “Please, take me to Daeothdi.”

She bowed her head, and pulled me where he sat, beading.

Daeothdi waved her away.

“She is very tall,” I said.

“Sit down,” said Daeothdi. I sat down.

“Does she even know I’m her mother?”

Daeothdi’s face went blank. He buried his face in his hands.

“Did you forget, Daeothdi?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. How could he have forgotten?

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I set down the pack and sighed. My eyes had started to hurt again. They had been bothering me more and more, those days.

I wasn’t really sure why. I was still young and strong. Eyes only hurt the old.

One of the bad things about being a cartographer is waking up so early, just to get to the top of a mountain.

The lovely thing is watching the world come alive again after a night of sleep.

I checked the rolls of maps in my pack, made sure that the cap on the ink was locked, made sure nothing had stolen the graphite gain.

In some of the trickier, rockier places they had carved in stairs. Some of them had designs, sprawling stories, engraved into their rock faces.

smiled when I saw them, and went on, my bare feet blistering and popping every once and a while.

I reached the summit in the late evening. There was one Ara tree there. I climbed it.

I saw the world. It unravelled itself for me, the mountain range stretching one way, the hills poking up under them, like annoying younger siblings. I took out a map roll. I had part of it done – the coast to the edge of the mountain range.

I was missing a roll the next day. I got up to look for it – the only place I could imagine it rolling to was the trail.

“Please, Daeothdi, enlighten me.”

Daeothdi in front

It was down hill, but the going was more treacherous – stones came up faster, roots stuck themselves out with vehemence.

I bowed my head again. Daeothdi was doing me a great honour, taking me to the camp. He led me by the hand as the stars began to rise and the sun began to set through the twilight paths of his brothers and sisters. He allowed me to wear shoes – another honour, I’m sure, but I took it for granted.

The sky started to turn from that dark shade blue to a purple when I started to smell the smoke from the camp. Daeothdi put a whistle to his lips, and blew rounds of short notes. And owl or a sister, I couldn’t tell, hooted in return.

The trees stopped suddenly. Daeothdi had already walked out of them and was blowing his whistle again.

The members of the camp watched them from the centre of the camp, solemn and silent, like ghosts. There was a bonfire. I recognised some of the people standing closest to it.

Silence for a time.

A girl broke the silence. “Daeothdi,” she said, “Kiedoe mossan sur. Sunigung oss?”

Come with me, Salmali.” She took me by the hand and pulled me towards the northern end of the camp.

“There,” she said. “Do you see it, Salmali?”

Moska was the bear stars. It was a constellation that I frequently used for navigation. I cocked my head. The camp was shaped like Moska

“What else. Please, enlighten me, Daeothkita.”

Daeothdi’s face went blank. He buried his face in his hands.

Did you forget, Daeothdi?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. How could he have forgotten?

“I’m sorry,” he said.

bear wrote:This is (probably) a novel not in chapters. I'm not used to writing for an audience, but that is what this piece is intended for - an audience. I usually just write for myself and post work occasionally. BEWARE: One character's title has the same letters as Salami. It is not Salami. Plus made up language.

The Accursed Cartographer

I set down the pack and sighed. My eyes had started to hurt again. They had been bothering me more and more, those days these days . I wasn’t really sure why. I was still young and strong. Eyes only hurt the old. Hmm, these last three sentences are very short and choppy - maybe consider merging them together somehow, to have it all flow easier?

I was two days way from the sea. The air wasn’t salty anymore – not with these mountains. The land had started as stones jutting from the water, then cliffs, and now these monoliths, green and grey and so beautiful.

I’d talked to Saddi, Horse Father. He told me where the tallest mountain was.

“Go to the top,” he had said. “There you will see the world.”

So that’s where I sat; a boulder on the feet of the mountain. It was like the toenail of the mountain. try to find a synonym of "the mountain", you keep repeating that.

I emptied the back the back what? and unrolled the bed skin. It was too late to climb the mountain. Ah, here we go again,; repetition.


One of the bad things about being a cartographer is waking up so early, just to get to the top of a mountain. The lovely thing is watching the world come alive again after a night of sleep.

I checked the rolls of maps in my pack, made sure that the cap on the ink was locked, made sure nothing had stolen the graphite and the rubber erasing swab in the night, and started off again.

The trail I took was one well worn by the feet of Saddi’s brothers and sisters. In some of the trickier, rockier places they had carved in stairs. Some of them had designs, sprawling stories, engraved into their rock faces.

I smiled when I saw them, and went on, my bare feet blistering and popping every once and a while. I’d had to toss my boots to the side of the trail in the morning – Saddi and his brothers and sisters didn’t believe in shoes, and it was a crime to have footwear on their trails. I had small desire to upset the gods. OK, I relly like you imagery and all that. But each paragraph is like a statement describging something else - can't you find a way to blend it all together better, merge it somehow? make it flow; so far, it's rather choppy, like I mentioned before.

I reached the summit in the late evening. There was one Ara tree there. I climbed it.

I saw the world. It unravelled itself for me, the mountain range stretching one way, the hills poking up under them, like annoying younger siblings. I took out a map roll. I had part of it done – the coast to the edge of the mountain range.

While the light was still good I sat in the tree, sketching.

The morning routine when I was mapping was basic. I ordered my rolls of map paper, looked at each one of them, and checked my ink. Sometimes I’d have to make new ink. Maybe a note about how you make this ink, just out of interest? I'd advise you to include more imagery here, too. Saying it's beautiful and that you sketched it - doesn'treally pant an image in my mind, sorry.

I was missing a roll the next day. I got up to look for it – the only place I could imagine it rolling to was the trail.

And sure enough, there it was, in the hands of Daeothdi.

I bowed my head. “May I have my map back, Daeothdi?”

He handed it to me. “Salma. You have to keep better track of your maps.”

I took the map, as carefully as I could. I remembered Daeothdi very well.

I also remembered his tempter. temper

“Thank you, Daeothdi.”

“I would actually like to talk to you.”

I looked up. “What?”

“Sit down. Please.”

Daeothdi never said please to anyone. I sat down on a log. He wrinkled his nose, and sat cross-legged on the ground.

“Daeothdi, enlighten me.”

He pulled at his nose. That was the first strange thing about Daeothdi. Most of him was expressed through his hands and his nose.

His face was still beautiful.

“Please, Daeothdi, enlighten me.”

“Your daughter has grown up to be clever and beautiful.”

“Thank you, Daeothdi.” That was the greatest compliment I would probably ever get from him. Why? Some background info would be good.

“She needs a mother. I think that you should come to the camp and meet her again, Salma.”

I sighed. “Daeothdi, do not call me Salma anymore. That’s not my real name, and it is not right.” New paragraph
Daeothdi looked like he wanted to laugh. “I suppose that is true. I suppose that you are really Salmali.”

“Daeothdi.”

“You’ll come with me, Salma.”

I really wished he wouldn’t call me Salma – lovely bird, an endearment given to me by Daeothdi and Saddi. Daeothdi and I weren’t dear any more.

We stood up, and I grabbed my pack and maps. i thought your MC just refused to go. We walked down Saddi’s trail, Daeothdi in front. It was down hill, but the going was more treacherous – stones came up faster, roots stuck themselves out with vehemence.

I picked up my shoes once we got to the foot of the mountain and pulled them on. Daeothdi traced the path of the sun with his finger tips, waiting for me.

I saw satisfaction dance across his face.

“It’s the right time of day.”

I bowed my head again. Daeothdi was doing me a great honour, taking me to the camp You should explain why; I can't read your mind. He led me by the hand as the stars began to rise and the sun began to set through the twilight paths of his brothers and sisters. He allowed me to wear shoes – another honour, I’m sure, but I took it for granted.

“We will reach the camp in the morning?”

“Before then,” said Daeothdi. “The path is not so tedious.”

I nodded, and we went on. A statement you don't need.

The sky started to turn from that dark shade blue to a purple when I started to smell the smoke from the camp. Daeothdi put a whistle to his lips, and blew rounds of short notes. And owl or a sister, I couldn’t tell, hooted in return.

There were stairs carved into the slope. Daeothdi helped me down.

The trees stopped suddenly. Daeothdi had already walked out of them and was blowing his whistle again.

I followed him.

The camp sat in the middle of the field, surrounded by mountains and trees. It didn’t seem very large from here, just a few tents.

“Did many die over the past few winters?” I asked.

Daeothdi nodded. Considering the seriousness of the question, maybe mention some facial expression, visible emotion...?

The members of the camp watched them from the centre of the camp repetition of camp , solemn and silent, like ghosts. There was a bonfire. I recognised some of the people standing closest to it.

“Salmali,” said Daeothdi. “That is her name. She is a friend of Saddi, a sarcune, and so will stay with us for a while.”

Silence for a time.

A girl broke the silence. “Daeothdi,” she said, “Kiedoe mossan sur. Sunigung oss?”

Daeothdi laughed. I’d never heard him laugh before. Of course he laughed, everyone did, but it seemed strange. Unnatural for him. Why?

So. This must be Daeothkita.

Daeothdi shook his head. “Sussan.”

“Oh.” Daeothkita seemed disappointed she had to speak my language. I remembered the way Daeothdi was about guests. Either you spoke their language, or you did not speak at all.

“Daeothkita, please show Salmali around camp.”

Daeothkita nodded, bowed her head, and hurried to my side. She was so tall now. New paragraph
My only memories of her were ages old.

“Come with me, Salmali.” She took me by the hand and pulled me towards the northern end of the camp.

“There,” she said. “Do you see it, Salmali?”

I nodded. “Moska.”

“That is how our camp is built,” she said. “Moska.”

Moska was the bear stars. It was a constellation that I frequently used for navigation. I cocked my head. The camp was shaped like Moska.

“Daeothdi stays in the centre of the camp,” said Daeothkita. “Without a tent, so he can watch over our people. Right there, at the bear’s head – that’s where – “

“I know,” I said. “I remember this camp.” Again you keep repeating "camp"

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Tell me,” I said, “what has changed over the years?”

“Brothers and sisters have,” she said. “And so has Daeothdi.”

“What else. Please, enlighten me, Daeothkita.” What's up with the "enlighten me"? Try something else, it's not something people usually say and you've used it twice before. Repetetive.

“Yes, Salmali.” She still led me around the camp, holding my hand. She pointed at tents, at pots, even at the looms leaning up against the wooden supports, telling me the stories behind them and about the people who lived there. Memories, warm and good, grasped my hand, softening the way for my feet and lighting the sky.

Daeothkita looked at me. “That’s all there is.”

I nodded. “Please, take me to Daeothdi.”

She bowed her head, and pulled me where he sat, beading.

Daeothdi waved her away.

“She is very tall,” I said.

“Sit down,” said Daeothdi. I sat down.

“Does she even know I’m her mother?”

Daeothdi’s face went blank. He buried his face in his hands.

“Did you forget, Daeothdi?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. How could he have forgotten? Forgotten who her mother is? Huh?

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Hey, Bear. Awesome name, btw.

I set down the pack and sighed. My eyes had started to hurt again. They had been bothering me more and more, those days. I wasn’t really sure why. I was still young and strong. Eyes only hurt the old.

I was two days way from the sea. The air wasn’t salty anymore – not with these mountains. The land had started as stones jutting from the water, then cliffs, and now these monoliths, green and grey and so beautiful.

So that’s where I sat; a boulder on the feet of the mountain.

One of the bad things about being a cartographer is waking up so early, just to get to the top of a mountain. The lovely thing is watching the world come alive again after a night of sleep.

A girl broke the silence.

There was a bonfire.

Daeothdi nodded.

I followed him.