Young Writers Society

It's my story Lycan, not yours. Besides, if you want to hear the story unravel a bit, you're going to have to wait. Besides, I am going to work on it and will probobly post it whithin the next couple of days. Also, It's okay, trident. =D. But Lycan, you need to be more patient. Again, I chose to introduce my character in my prologue. If you want to critizise me further, please go somewhere else and do it.

I don't need a FULL explanation of a plot. Only a novice would do that in the prologue. And yes, I have noticed that what you just wrote was the prologue. However, what you wrote should not be in the prologue.

p.s. I am not lazy, I am busy with other things. Like advanced math courses and book club. Don't just call me lazy because I don't post all of my stuff or write all of my stuff right away. So if you are going to keep me lazy, then please keep your thoughts to yourself.

Lycan, listen. You are being pretty impatient. Now, I will answer your questions.
1.) If you would look at my blog, you might realize that this is not a book where I start off by saying "Okay, this guy's name is ____, and all of his secrets are here: _____________.

2.) I would be angry too if I had just accidentaly killed my foster parents. Yes, I just revealed a big secret, but it's so you won't annoy me any more. I would be angry at just about anyone who comes up to me and starts ordering me around!

3.) I also don't exactly say : Okay, people, this story is about this)_____________. I have posted more of this story, and there is still a lot of stuff that I already wrote that I haven't posted.

4.) Hello? Are you incapable of reading?!? This is the prologue! I don't reveal the whole plot in the very first part. It is mainly for introducing the character, so that he doesn't appear out of nowhere in the later chapters.

Lycan, if you have any other stupid questions, please keep them to yourself, or get in the chat room, where I can ignore you. However, if you have any good questions, coments, or critiques, feel free to post them.

Wow... This is really UNFINISHED and really annoying me. Ill tell you why:

1.The only thing that offers ANY information on this main character is the title.
-"Elf Son"
2. Why the heck is he so angry at this mysterious guy?
3. What is this story about?
-I think you are too lazy to finish it.
4. While the descriptions are pretty good, you still have to have a good story
plot.

I apologize if I came across as... well a bully or a jerk lillizard. Perhaps sarcasm is not the best way to go.

Nonetheless, my opinions stand. The first line isn't very good. And you've heard the reasons: it's melodramatic, the metaphor doesn't quite fit, and purple (according to Meep).

I also stand by that feeling nothing is a poor, poor way to go about things. Feeling nothing? How often have you done it? You may think you have, but it was probably more self-pity than nothingness. As an author, you want the emotions of your characters to be the emotions of the readers, or you want to elicit certain emotions from the readers through the characters' actions. Nothingness elicits... well nothing, which is bad. You may be trying to get the reader to feel pity for your character, but it doesn't work.

I told you to ditch stuff, so you would cut it out of your piece. You should do so.

And my last statement was meant to show that you need to give your mysterious stranger and your main character a motive, otherwise you have no story. Trust me, if it seems like your characters are just doing something and they don't have a reason, they become unreal. And that makes the reader not want to believe anything else in the story is real. As an author, plausibility is essential.

Okay, I believe that probably should have been my post. But if you are serious about being an author, then you will have to learn to take this type of vicious criticism because you will encounter it. Another piece of advice: don't always believe what everyone says. If you want to ignore one thing or everything from my post, then go ahead. It's not my writing, it's yours. Do what you want to do with it.

And fantasy, which line is it that you consider bad? ;)

Okay, first of all, trident, if you're going to attempt to be all knowing in the future, at least give improvements for what you say. Other wise, it comes out like that.

I find it terribly amusing that you would pour scorn onto someone else's first line, considering your own.

But anyway, ignore the idiotic, lizard, this piece has potential. What you need to learn is how to chop out what you don't need, and cut the melodramatic.

There is room from the metaphorical, but don't go too heavy with it. The first sentence is a pretty good example of this. Besides from being impossible, it gives the wrong image of his tears. So be careful of how you word things.

Also, avoid info dumping. Less is more. You don't have to describe this guy physical attributes at all, if you don't want to. The story would lose nothing. Show me things.

I'll give you an example. I can say that my character is athletic, witty and righteous, but that's boring. I can show you he's athletic in the way he interects with things, show you he's witty in his actions and dialogue, show you he's righteous in what he does, too.

Read the thing through, highlight anything you think can be dropped without hurting the story, and drop it. Then consider what the reader needs to know, and when they need to know it.

trident, if you think a character can feel nothing, and be portrayed as feeling nothing, you need to read a lot more. Don't generalise as you have done with what you just said. One day, someone may mistake you as an idiotic bully - not that I ever would.

-Fantasy

To start off, might I suggest that your first line go here:

viewtopic.php?t=484


Okay, this prologue is terrible. The emotional scenery that Griffinkeeper mentioned is particularily bad. A character feeling nothing? It's surely not a new concept, but it's one that good authors avoid. Nobody ever feels nothing... unless they're on drugs or dead, and on drugs they most likely feel something.

The little cutesy "o" thing with the hat is annoying. Ditch it.

Vasôac was a sturdy young boy about the age of 13. His facial features were sharp and acute for his age, and his skin was pale. His eyes were a dark shade of viridian, as clear as a shard of crystal. His face was bleak and expressionless. His hair was black, disheveled, and dirty.

Interesting.

The beginning is pretty melodramatic, but this is well-written with very vivid description.

The first sentence is pretty awkward sounding. Try to make it flow a bit more smoothly, because I think it's vital that fictional stories have good first sentences.

A suggestion: what do you think about a pronunciation guide? Fantasy books always have all these crazy names that I have no clue how to pronounce, and it's rather annoying.

I like your style, and I'd like to see where you go with this.

Sorry if you were hoping for a long, harsh critique.

Everything seems like it has been smashed into a small little box. The events happen too quickly right after another, there is no transition. However, there is great elaboration on some parts.

I would suggest you space for your dialogue/soliloquy parts or seperate them if they come after another.

This is entertaining, a little bit of improvement and this can go a long way.

-Zola

ps: GriffinKeeper's Reply was incredibly accurate. That is a good source of information.

It's an early draft, right? So now you know, and in the future, it's something to remember. That's all.

fine, I'll put thirteen.

Meep wrote:Oh, also - it's a personal preference, but I usually prefer to read "thirteen" and not "13" in actual prose. Unless it's a very large and very specific number (eg: 5,673,854), an address (eg: 555 Whatever Drive), a phone number (eg: 555-555), or a price (eg: $99.99) I'd spell it out. (Does anyone know the grammatical rule invovled here?)

lillizard wrote:His tears numbered more than the massive multitude of icy raindrops pouring from the sky.

lillizard wrote:This is only an indroduction to who the character is, to give the reader more emotion.

This is only an indroduction to who the character is, to give the reader more emotion. The questions you asked will be explained later in the book, although I will change the amount of pronouns in the book. I would talk about Demorciana, but it would give away a lot of the story. Besides, there is a clue in the name of the place anyway. If you think about it a lot you might know what it is, especially after what the man said about the demons, and why the quest is so important. Thanks for the critiques everyone. I will post chapter one soon.

All right. You make several mistakes here with regards to writing. Let me just outline a few of them.

1. Emotional Scenery.

His tears numbered more than the massive multitude of icy raindrops pouring from the sky. His fists clenched, his cheeks numb, and his heart throbbing, he wept under the dark autumn sky with a bright blue moon overhead. Vasôac fell to his knees in his agony punching the soft untrodden ground, noticing his mud covered hands.
Why me?
He punched the moistened ground below him, screaming. He stared down at the ground, wishing he were not in the predicament that he had put himself in, just a matter of hours ago. He could not grasp the thought of what had happened without beginning to slip out of consciousness.
How could I have done this? How could this have happened? No, this is a dream, just a horrible nightmare . But it’s so real. It can’t be a dream. I need answers
He looked up at the sky, beginning to lose his senses, due to the bitter wind eating into his skin.
Is this how the nightmare will end? If it is, then so be it, I deserve to be ended. I’ll just give up.
The large gashes on his cheeks were bleeding, tormenting him. He lifted his quivering arms, shaking violently while he said. “I give in. I give up. I will not go on.” He abruptly felt something in his heart. It felt frozen. As hard, as cold, and as barren as the landscape around him. And then, he felt nothing. Nothing. Not the cuts on his face, nor the sadness or frustration that he had been feeling moments earlier. No hate, anger, loneliness, happiness. Nothing. The tears on his face felt as foreign as the forest looming nearby. As did his heart. If he hadn’t know better, he would have considered it not his own. It didn’t feel like his own.

His tears numbered more than the massive multitude of icy raindrops pouring from the sky. His fists clenched, his cheeks numb, and his heart throbbing, he wept under the dark autumn sky with a bright blue moon overhead. Vasôac fell to his knees in his agony punching the soft untrodden ground, noticing his mud covered hands.
Why me?
He punched the moistened ground below him, screaming. He stared down at the ground, wishing he were not in the predicament that he had put himself in, just a matter of hours ago. He could not grasp the thought of what had happened without beginning to slip out of consciousness.
How could I have done this? How could this have happened? No, this is a dream, just a horrible nightmare . But it’s so real. It can’t be a dream. I need answers
He looked up at the sky, beginning to lose his senses, due to the bitter wind eating into his skin.
Is this how the nightmare will end? If it is, then so be it, I deserve to be ended. I’ll just give up.
The large gashes on his cheeks were bleeding, tormenting him. He lifted his quivering arms, shaking violently while he said. “I give in. I give up. I will not go on.” He abruptly felt something in his heart. It felt frozen. As hard, as cold, and as barren as the landscape around him. And then, he felt nothing. Nothing. Not the cuts on his face, nor the sadness or frustration that he had been feeling moments earlier. No hate, anger, loneliness, happiness. Nothing. The tears on his face felt as foreign as the forest looming nearby. As did his heart. If he hadn’t know better, he would have considered it not his own. It didn’t feel like his own.
Vasôac was a sturdy young boy about the age of 13. His facial features were sharp and acute for his age, and his skin was pale. His eyes were a dark shade of viridian, as clear as a shard of crystal. His face was bleak and expressionless. His hair was black, disheveled, and dirty.

...

“No!” Vas ac could feel the anger swelling up inside him. Although it was an emotion, it was bad, and even though he had been hoping for an ounce of emotion a moment before, he was shocked he was feeling so much hatred.
...

The man handed him a tall wooden stick with a luminous glass orb on top of it. Also, he was handed a long silk black leather hooded robe, laced with a golden colored thread. Vas ac slipped the robe on himself. It felt hundreds times more warm and comfortable than the torn, dirty rags he had previously been wearing.
“Fine. But don’t leave yet, I still need to ask you some things.” Vas ac turned around to talk to the man, but he had vanished just as suddenly as he had appeared.
“And with that,” Vas ac said to himself, “I set off.”

Here is my complete prolouge.

Elf Son
His tears numbered more than the massive multitude of icy raindrops pouring from the sky. His fists clenched, his cheeks numb, and his heart throbbing, he wept under the dark autumn sky with a bright blue moon overhead. Vasôac fell to his knees in his agony punching the soft untrodden ground, noticing his mud covered hands.
Why me?
He punched the moistened ground below him, screaming. He stared down at the ground, wishing he were not in the predicament that he had put himself in, just a matter of hours ago. He could not grasp the thought of what had happened without beginning to slip out of consciousness.
How could I have done this? How could this have happened? No, this is a dream, just a horrible nightmare . But it’s so real. It can’t be a dream. I need answers
He looked up at the sky, beginning to lose his senses, due to the bitter wind eating into his skin.
Is this how the nightmare will end? If it is, then so be it, I deserve to be ended. I’ll just give up.
The large gashes on his cheeks were bleeding, tormenting him. He lifted his quivering arms, shaking violently while he said. “I give in. I give up. I will not go on.” He abruptly felt something in his heart. It felt frozen. As hard, as cold, and as barren as the landscape around him. And then, he felt nothing. Nothing. Not the cuts on his face, nor the sadness or frustration that he had been feeling moments earlier. No hate, anger, loneliness, happiness. Nothing. The tears on his face felt as foreign as the forest looming nearby. As did his heart. If he hadn’t know better, he would have considered it not his own. It didn’t feel like his own.
Vasôac was a sturdy young boy about the age of 13. His facial features were sharp and acute for his age, and his skin was pale. His eyes were a dark shade of viridian, as clear as a shard of crystal. His face was bleak and expressionless. His hair was black, disheveled, and dirty.
“You should not be foolish enough to do that, Vasôac. Why did you give your heart up?” A voice behind him inquired.
Vasôac spun around to meet the dark, hooded man’s eyes, and asked, “Who are you?”
The stranger began slowly walking towards him, while Vasôac was stepping away from him.
“I am not important, Vasôac. What is important is that you stay safe. We need you. We all need you.”
“Stay away from me ”
“I do not wish to hurt you. You are too valuable to damage. I know what you are upset about Vasôac. It is not your fault.”
“Yes it is It wasn’t anybody else who did it. It was me I didn’t mean to, but it happened.”
“This is good, remembering brings healing of the heart.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You weren’t feeling before. You had given up half of your heart. But now you have recovered some of it. Slowly, over the months to come, you might begin to recover your feelings again. But beware of the soulless lands, Vasôac. If you ever travel there, then your already weak heart will die. However, you will have trouble feeling any good emotions, but if something right happens, the emotions might break through the ice of your cold heart.”
“I do not understand what you are talking about.” Vasôac stated.
“In time you will.”
“How do you know this? How do you know me? What are the soulless lands?”
“Those questions are for another time. For now, I will assign you what you need to do next.”
“Why should I listen to you? I don’t want to go on any quest, I want thing to go back to normal I want to go back to my warm house and be greeted by my loving parents.”
“Your wants are not the same as our needs ” The man hissed. “And even you know that things will not go back to normal. You are not normal and you never were. Those were not even your real parents.”
“Of course they were. They were my parents.”
“No, your parents are somewhere else. Your mother is alive and healthy, and even I don’t know where your father is. You will discover these things in time.”
“Tell me when!”
“I told you, you will learn. Be patient.”
“No!” Vas ac could feel the anger swelling up inside him. Although it was an emotion, it was bad, and even though he had been hoping for an ounce of emotion a moment before, he was shocked he was feeling so much hatred.
“Wait.” The man whispered. “Be quiet.”
“What are you talking ab...”
“Shhhh!”
The two ducked down, spotting two large black dragons overhead. On their backs were figures, seeming to be vast entities of black mist, in the form of humans, but appearing to be inhuman.
“What are those?”
“They are servants of the dark sorcerer V sdem. They were created by smothering together broken souls with a very powerful black magic. They are called the Zokda.”
“Well, why are they here?”
“I truly don’t know.”
The giant, armored dragons passed by overhead, after circling overhead for several minutes. Vas ac and the man stood up, relieved that the dragons had passed.
“Vas ac, I must leave now. But I have something that I must confide in you. Listen. You are the one to find Demorciana, it has been prophesied.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Trust me, you will. Just take these, and begin your journey.”
“What journey? Listen, I don’t want to go on any stinking journey, I just want to...”
“I don’t care! Stop being selfish! Now listen, you must take these things and begin traveling to Seloba. I will meet you in the scroll store there and instruct you on what you must do next.”
The man handed him a tall wooden stick with a luminous glass orb on top of it. Also, he was handed a long silk black leather hooded robe, laced with a golden colored thread. Vas ac slipped the robe on himself. It felt hundreds times more warm and comfortable than the torn, dirty rags he had previously been wearing.
“Fine. But don’t leave yet, I still need to ask you some things.” Vas ac turned around to talk to the man, but he had vanished just as suddenly as he had appeared.
“And with that,” Vas ac said to himself, “I set off.”

I need a good name for black entities of darkness ruled by the dark wizard in my story. Does anybody have any ideas?

Thanks, and nice idead sp2580, I am almost done with the chapter and will be updating this topic.

Good description but you make it sound very cronological.

~instead of~ , and screamed. He stared down at his mud covered hands.

~try~ He punched the sodden ground below him, screaming, His attention the turned to the mud tainting his hands.

His face was bleak and expressionless. His hair was black, disheveled, and

I like this a lot!!

Green = Comment/Correction
Blue = Suggestion
Black = Review

*

Something happened before this scene and I don't know what to think of this boy's anger/hurt (his cuts, tears, etc).

The large gashes on his cheeks were still bleeding, still tormenting him.