forum Offering Feedback (5/5 - CLOSED for now, check back later)
Started by @Riorlyne pets
tune

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@LittleBear group

@Riorlyne thank you so much for your wonderful edits and feedback! So I don't know if your questions were merely to get me thinking about my plot or if you actually wanted to know…. so I'm going to assume that you do and answer them!

  • To answer the bride questions – so when I actually write the wedding scene the traditions are going to peak out. But yes both of their dresses are going to be white – in their culture, much like ours white does signify purity. The differences are going to be the colors that are interwoven into Eline’s gown.
  • So all of the twelve houses (their country is run by two King Houses that run Economics (Solin’s house) and War (Jerlorn’s house) and ten lower houses) have their own house gems and colors. Marielle is an outsider/peasant so she has no house colors to bring with her – thus pure white. Eline is from the education house whose color is purple, so she will have purple (either flowers or gems) throughout her gown.
  • The brides, because they are to become Queens of King Houses will receive ceremonial daggers encrusted with jewels of their respective husband’s houses. So I’m thinking that they (Eline and Marielle) will cut away their veils to signify cutting away individualism and joining into an eternal partnership with no barriers.
  • Also for time period I'm thinking like medival-ish….

If you want to read more in your free time (you don;t have to critique but feel free to) about this story and it's progression, it is all consolidated on https://www.notebook.ai/forum/sharing-critiques/the-pravaci-court-leave-me-a-critique

Emmalee

Sorry to add to the list, but could you go through this for me? I've been pretty out of it and I feel like I'm not doing a very good job editing (or writing in general), so any help is great! Thanks!

Slap, slap, sla-trip-shuffle-slap, slap, slap. The sound of my mother's flats hitting the floor stops the sobbing she’s never heard. Oh god, oh no, oh please no, no, no, no no no. She has never heard it and she never will. Barely visible hands messily wipe tears away, smearing eyeliner and mascara down my cheeks. A knock at the door.
“Em?”
“Just a sec I’m changing out of my shirt.”
“Why are you changing your shirt?”
“Splashed some water on it.”
“Oh, okay. Well, Dad, Oliver and I are leaving to go run a few errands, we’re leaving Evan with you, 'kay?”
“Yeah, cool. No problem.”
I hear her footsteps retreating down the hall and open my eyes. Yes, problem. I have been sitting here alone wanting to die, and you're going to leave me in charge of a 4-year-old right now? But of course, she is. Mom and Dad don't know. After breaking down in public restrooms so often you quickly learn how to steady your voice and keep back the waterworks. No one who doesn't catch you unawares will ever know. I wait until the already-faint sound of the van driving away disappears completely before opening the door. Evan runs out of the living room before i can even step through the doorway. As he slides on the hardwood in his socks he slams into me. "Wanna watch a movie?" I smile tiredly. "You can buddy, but I'm gonna go take a break."His brown doe-eyes twinkle a bit as he processes this new-found freedom. Skipping away he sings some made up song about Spiderman. I watch him happily go about making a snack before I turn numbly to the closet. My pocket knife practically jumps into my hand and my feet force me to slip into the bathroom, my fingers locking the door behind me. I let them because he doesn't need to see me do this. The fingers I watch seem as if they aren't mine as they open the blade. As I look at my reflection in the metal I realize less than five minutes ago this face was crying her eyes out, begging for the feeling to be gone. Now it was gone and I was digging a dull blade into my skin to prove to myself I could still feel at all. The blood drips into the toilet, crimson drops breaking against the surface and reaching deeper to stain and mar the water with its swirling color. After wiping the seat clean of any stray drops I flush the mess down the drain. I wash my hands, knife and arm of the blood before pulling my sweatshirt on again, careful as always to never let anyone see. After all, nobody needs to know.

@Riorlyne pets

@Emmalee - Here you go. :) Most of my grammar-related comments can be found here.

General Feedback

  • Paragraphing: Make sure to begin a new paragraph each time the speaker changes in a dialogue, and also when the focus of the narrative changes. For example, I've suggested a break between the narrator's self-reflection and continuation of the narrative here:

    No one who doesn't catch you unawares will ever know. [Paragraph break] I wait…

    And here:

    I was digging a dull blade into my skin to prove to myself I could still feel at all. [Paragraph break] The blood drips…

  • Cutting/Depression: I don't have first- or secondhand experience with these issues and so I don't feel properly equipped to comment on the themes or the events in this excerpt, but it sounds realistic and poignant without being overdramatic. If this is part of a larger story, I think as a reader I would want to find out from that larger story the causes of the narrator's pain and how she eventually finds healing.

Overall your writing flows really well and you don't really have any issues grammar- and spelling-wise. All the best as you continue with your stories!

@LittleBear group

I just wrote this extremely rough/ long first draft and was wondering if you would take a look at it when you get the chance!

(Side note: Janon Hane is Erion’s alias and the __________ will be either new chapters or jumping to another scene later on)

Erion -

“The subject is Halis Onrin,” Maious said. “He will be in his residence in the Selian district.” He handed me a slip of parchment.
If my memory of Canise served correct, the Selian district was the richest, other than the Palace of course.

“What has he done?” I asked.

“Not a concern of yours,” he said, dismissing me.

Knowing better than to protest, I left the room. But I stayed close to the door, straining to hear as best I could.

“Keep your eye on that one, Anions. We never should have taken an Uradavi in,” Maious said to my handler. “His conscious will be the end of us. If he has anything of his mother, then his will is unbreakable.”

“The boy asks a good question. I myself am curious,” Anions said.

“Smuggler. The King wants his wares, a poison of some kind, off the streets,” Maious answered. “The assignment should be easy enough. He will be alone.”

Satisfied, I put space between myself and the door. The risk of a beating was not worth the extra gossip.

He is a drug lord, a thief, a liar; the King has ordered his death. This is no different from a soldier obeying orders, I told myself. This was not murder.

((I’ll write them riding through the city later, too lazy to do it now))

We tied up our mounts a little ways away and Anions turned to me. “Quickly, quietly, and the house burns after us. No traces. Understand?”
I nodded.

The only sound was the whisper of wind though the date palms. Nothing was awake apart from Anions and me, even the crickets were no longer playing their song. The grand house was one of many, all stark and beautiful against the vast desert sky. And most importantly, a second story window was open.

He glanced around and nodded to me. Quickly, we made our way to the wall, I gave him a boost, and he disappeared into the house. A moment later the end of his whip fell down the wall. Just as we had practiced so many times before, I wrapped my hand around the whip and walked up the wall.

“Do not touch anything,” he breathed as I clambered into the room. An office, by how it was furnished

“I am not an imbecile,” I muttered to myself as he made his way deeper into the house, his footfalls barely a whisper. I slipped after him.

We made our way through the house. At every turn I could not help but wonder at the splendors that were here and how they differed from the opulence of home. There were lush rugs inlaid with golden scenes instead of tapestries and painted porcelain instead of crystal vases. The home smelled faintly of incense, snuffed out hours ago.

We finally came to a set of double doors, and, as was the usual for Lianian architecture, they led to the bedroom. Anions motioned me forward with one hand and slowly opened the door with the other.

I drew my dagger, took a deep breath, and slipped through. A large bed took up most of the room, just as expensively decorated as the rest of the house. It was occupied by huge Lianian man who was snoring soundly, his barrel of a chest rising and falling. I crept up next to him and looked down at his face, obscured by a well-groomed black beard.

“I am sorry,” I breathed. He is a drug lord, a thief, a liar; the King has ordered his death. This is no different from a soldier obeying orders, I told myself again. This had become my mantra.

I dragged my knife across his throat – quickly, cleanly, and through both arteries, just as I had practiced on the pigs. His eyes flew open and his snores were replaced with the gurgle of blood in his newly-ruined throat.

I stumbled away from him and scrambled back through the door.

The moment I came through the door, Anions grabbed my collar and forced me to look at him. “Breathe boy. You have done well, but the job is not over.”

I nodded and we each went to a lamp and poured the oil out onto the floor, darkening the beautiful carpets. Simultaneously we lit our matches and let them fall. The light that followed blinded me for a moment and all I could see was the dark liquid flowing from his neck.

The way it shined in the moonlight was seared into my memory.

“Come,” Anions said. He pulled me back the way we had come, out the office window and towards our mounts. When we finally turned to look at the house, it was engulfed in flames.

“You did well. But it is time to return,” Anions said and for a moment I felt a spark of pride. A spark that I immediately squashed down, for it was pride that threatened to rot my insides.

I was about to reply when I heard a scream and then a crying babe shortly after.

No.

Before I could process what was going on, I was running back to the house. I did not get far.

“There is nothing you can do now. What is done is done!” Anions had my forearm in a vise.

“There is a babe in there! You said he would be alone!” I roared.

“Sometimes the intelligence is wrong. You did not verify,” he said matter-of-factly, as if we had not just condemned the life of an innocent.

“May Rionel have at you,” I cursed as I drew my sword and smashed the pommel into his face. It was if Lehion himself was guiding my hand, for Anions crumpled immediately.

I did not bother with the window again; instead, I went for the entrance. I tore off my headscarf and held it to my mouth before I put my boot through the grand window. The smoke that billowed out stung my eyes and burned my throat. With a last prayer to Lehion, I stepped into the inferno.

“Where are you?” I yelled over the roar of the flames and the groaning of the house. What had seemed grand only minutes ago had transformed into a hells cape. “Where -” I was racked with a coughing fit.

“Help!” the voice called, clearly feminine, just loud enough to be heard over the cacophony.

“Keep yelling!” I shouted and followed the voice through the house.

Suddenly, an almighty groan rose above the rest. I looked up and saw a beam bow and then break. Luckily, I leapt forward just in time to escape its crushing blow. Plaster rained down around me and added to my urgency. After what seemed like an eternity, I came to the woman’s door. A burning armoire had fallen in front of the door

“I am here. Hold on!” I yelled. “Move away from the door!” I bit into my headscarf and used both hands to lift my sword high over my head. I do not know if the fire had just weakened the wood or if it was the adrenalin coursing through my veins, but I made short work of the armoire. I shoved the pieces and the blankets that it held aside and grabbed the door handle. White-hot pain screamed up my hand before
I could realize my mistake. Cursing, I grabbed my headscarf again then grabbed the handle and pulled.
The woman was crouched in the farthest corner of the room, a nursery. She curled around her child, trying to keep him from the smoke that swirled all around her. When she saw me, she leapt to her feet and rushed forward. She was barefoot.

I sheathed my sword and grabbed her.

“No!” She screamed, terrified. It was then that I realized that she was only in a thin shift.

“You are barefoot – I will have to carry you,” I croaked. “Here, take this.” I handed her my headscarf.

She nodded slowly. I swept her and the baby into my arms, and I stumbled back through the house.

“Go through the back,” she shouted, straining to be heard over the blaze, “It is much closer.” She became my eyes as I stumbled through the deadly maze, shouting a new direction every few moments.

When we finally came to the back door, the world was beginning to spin and my entire body was shaking. “Hold on,” I wheezed and I kicked the door open.

We spilled into backyard and clean air flooded my lungs. The woman and her child tumbled out of my arms just before my stomach heaved. I narrowly missed them when I vomited black sludge into the grass. We laid there for a moment, with the sound of the dying house taking over the night.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I do not even know you and you saved us. How can I ever repay you?” Her words were worse than the raging fire.

“Forget that I was here,” I said as I picked up my headscarf rewrapped my head. “Tell everyone that you got out yourself.”

“But -” she objected.

I was already walking away from her, towards the back gate. I had to face the Anions’ wrath. I skirted the edge of the property and slowly made my way back to where I had left him. But he was not there. Cursing, I started towards the horses. I had not made it five paces before someone appeared behind me and wrapped his arm around my throat. Instantly spots danced in my vision. I slammed my fists at his arm, but the effort was feeble. My strength was gone.

Hot.

That was the first thing I noticed. The heat was oppressive. I could not tell if the wetness on my face was sweat or tears. The salt burned my eyes and my parched throat screamed at me for water. But when I tried to wipe my face, I realized how truly, deeply wrong things were. I was in stocks and there was a roaring fire in a hearth not ten feet away. “Let me out!” I tried to scream, but my throat was too dry, producing only a harsh and guttural sound.

There was a gust of cool air as the door opened and the Spy Master strode in, a bucket in one hand, cane in the other. “Ah, the princeling awakes,” he purred as he rapped my chin with his cane.

Without thinking, I lunged forward, causing the stocks to jerk.

“And yet still so hostile,” he tutted. He crouched so that he was level with me. “You do not understand. Your dear mother has given me all the license in the world. We will break you, Uradavi; keep you dancing between life and death until you learn.” Then he threw the bucket’s contents at me. Cool and beautiful water.

“Three hours more. Then I want him in the throne room,” he said as he left. “Call all the apprentices in. I want the consorts too. Bring –” and the door closed, locking out all the cool air.

I think I made it another thirty minutes before passing out again.

This time, the air was mercifully cool. But, I could tell that I was not alone. There was the gentle hum of a confused crowd. This time took full stock of my position before I opened my eyes. I was not wearing a shirt, I was bent over on something curved and soft, and my feet were solidly on the ground. Most importantly, my wrists were tied down.

I opened my eyes and immediately wished I had not. I was indeed surrounded by a crowd. Everyone was in the throne room. All the other apprentices, instructors, and guards were watching me. Even the courtesans were here. Instantly I knew what was coming.

“There he is! Let us begin then!” He said, his voice like a like velvet. Gods, he was going to paint it as entertainment. “Thank you so much for joining us today for the trial of Janon Hane.”

“His crimes include questioning orders, disobeying orders, reckless endangerment of mission, reckless endangerment of self, attacking a handler, and endangerment of identity. Thus – ”

“The babe would have burned to death!” I squawked. My throat burned in protest.

“Oh, let us add interrupting me to the list! I will be merciful – five lashes for each infraction. That brings us to,” purred as he mimed counting on his fingers, “thirty-five. Anions, you do the honors.”

The crowd fell completely silent and I knew that all my gods had left me. There was no getting out of this.
It felt as if the air had turned to molasses. Each of Anions’ footfalls took an eternity and the pounding of my heart drowned out everything else. He came and tightened my bonds, his face drawn and almost remorseful. “Forgive me.”

I focused on the Spy Master, lounging in his throne, grit my teeth, and grip the bonds. There is a crack and instantly I felt a blinding pain across my shoulders. I jerked but did not make a sound. I wound not give him the satisfaction.

My mind goes to another place. A place where I cannot feel the skin curling off my back or the blood dribbling onto the floor. A place where I can repeatedly punch the Spy Master in his teeth. I did not take my eyes from him. I pulled all my strength from my hatred of him and drew joy when he straightened in his throne. I realized He wanted to hear me call out. He wanted to hear me break.

I would rather die before breaking.

“Stop!” he barks after the tenth lash. The tension leaves my body. “Bring his partner.”

My heart drops.
“Unhand me!” her pretty voice shouts. “I have done nothing wrong.”

Two guards come through the crowd, a blonde twisting and thrashing in their grip. Her hair is disheveled, she is still in her dressing gown, and it looks like there is a handprint blooming across her face. They brought her directly in front of me and I could see that it is unmistakably Sela.

“Janon, my God,” she cried, “What have they done to you? What is going on? I am so scared.”

“If you will not cry out for me, perhaps you will do so for her,” the Spy Master growled.

He would not dare. To mar a courtesan would be the same as condemning her to death. No man, no matter how pretty the face, would deign to let an imperfect courtesan warm his bed. He would lose all that he had paid for her and she would have to take to the streets.

“So be it. She will take your remaining twenty-five.” His grin brought bile to my throat.

“What? No! Please, master! Please!” Sela screamed, dropping to her knees.

He was bluffing.

I made no move. No sound.

“Oh, you do not believe me!” His smile turned predatory.

He stormed down from his throne and grabbed one of the guard’s whips. He was bluffing.

I watched in horror as he drew it back and it snapped across her back. The sound seems to reverberate across the room, louder than the others were. With a cry, she fell forward. Her gown was torn and blood was already flowing from her flesh. What had I done?

The Spy Master raised his hand again and he has won.

“No!” I roared.

There is no pride left to fight for.

“Stop. Please,” I said. “Have mercy.”

Triumphantly, he lowered his hand and called out, “Proceed, Anions.”

Again, the whip whistled through the air and it cracked across my back. And I screamed. I screamed like an animal in the throes of death.

My poor, parched throat cracks again and again from the force. The pain came in waves. It was relentless.

My vision swam and Sela blurred away.

Soon, it was too much to exclaim. All that escaped are pitiful whimpers. Then the cool fingers of darkness dragged me under and I felt nothing at all.

An unholy moaning filled the room and crashed in my ears, like a tempest’s waves on the shore. Put the poor man out of his misery, I want to say, but then it dawns on me. I am the man. I am the moaning. My mind was heavy, stuffed with cotton. But I felt nothing.

She appeared like an angel and put a cool hand on my forehead. “Shh,” she soothed. “I am so sorry, Erion. I am so sorry.”

Why? Why is she sorry? “No…” The words are hard to form. “I have killed you.”

She sobbed and covered her mouth.

“No, no,” she choked. “I am so sorry, Erion. It was all fake. Every moment of it. They found me beforehand and threatened – they said they were going to kill you if I did not act out the scene.”

I did not understand. There was blood. Her gown ripped. “They ruined you.”

She shook her head. “It was paint. It was pageantry. The dress was already torn when they brought me to you. When I heard the sound, I was supposed to fall forward and pretend.”

Her words were confusing and it grew harder to muddle through them. She faded away just as she appeared. Maybe she was a dream.

The first thing I saw is my bandaged hand. It smelled strongly of something sharp that irritated my nose. With my good hand, I tried to push myself up and suddenly I was on fire. There was nothing but pain. My world was pain and the air filled with cries.

“No! Do not move!” Suddenly Anions is here. He guided me back down and forced something into my mouth. “Swallow, boy.”

Hopefully, he has come to finish me off.

Darkness comes again and I greet it happily.

I could feel his eyes on me. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the far wall.

“I had no idea what they would do to you,” he murmured. “I am sorry Erion. What you did, I respect you for it. None of us here would have done that.”

As I fell asleep again, I could not help but think that that was the first time he had used my true name.

((Back in Estonie, much later on in the book))

Finally, there was a knock at the door. If it was not so worrying that Delpe was so late, I would be cross.

“Enter,” I called as I selected a shirt from my office bureau. “Where have you been, I expected your…”

I turned and froze. The person at the door was not Delpe. It was Eline.

Cursing, I yanked the shirt on.

“Erion, your back…” She was as white as a sheet and her hand was at her throat. “What happened to your back?” she asked as she stepped forward.

“Nothing.” My mind was racing.

“Those are not from sparring or battle. These are whipping scars. What happened over there?” She reached out to me.

“I said –”

“Do not lie to me. I know what I am seeing,” she whispered.

I could not do this. No one could know. “No,” I said. And pushed past her. I could not be here.
_________________________________________________
Someone knocked furiously at my door and within seconds, I had my dagger in hand.

I wrenched it open and found Eline standing there. With a heavy sigh, I tucked my dagger into my trousers. “Eline, what are you doing here? If someone sees you here, the scandal –”

“Fie on scandal!” she spat. “I care about you more than the prattle of gossipmongers. What happened? I will stand here all through the night if I have to.”

“Do not do this to Solin. You cannot be here,” I begged, willing Tian to give me patience.

“If he knew, he would be here as well. Let me in. You have nothing to bargain with.” She crossed her arms and glared at me.
I let her in. It was no use.

@Riorlyne pets

Hi @Penstorm - sorry for this late reply! I've finished going through your first chapter. You can find it with inline feedback here.

General Feedback

  • Setting: I think it would be helpful for you to visualise your characters' surroundings and their interactions to help with some plausibility and adding detail. For example, in the beginning of the chapter we meet a prisoner, chained to opposite walls of a room by a spiky metal band around his waist. This effectively creates a waist-height chain across the room, and would make it impossible to easily walk around the prisoner, yet several characters do exactly that. Then later, he busts a hole in the ceiling, yet Fallyn had to walk downstairs to get to him, implying that there's more than just a roof separating him from the outside world and freedom.
    Now, it's possible that these are possible and I'm just visualising things incorrectly. If that's the case, more specific description is needed so that things like this don't come across as implausible.
  • Powers: Because both Reesa's existing powers and Fallyn's new powers are used to solve a problem (pushing off the prisoner and getting back to the women's cell respectively) the reader needs a better idea of what their scope is, especially for Reesa (you have a little bit of leeway with Fallyn as hers are new and she doesn't know what they're capable of yet). Reesa seems to be able to communicate with Fallyn at a significant distance, even when Fallyn is not contacting her, however, she hasn't sensed anything about the prisoner (at an equally distant location) or read any of the guards' thoughts (who would need to bring them food and water, so those would have come quite close to Reesa). Because of this, her powers seem inconsistent, and the reader will need a better understanding of why she can pick up Fallyn's every thought and the guards' and yet still have no idea why they were taken or what's down the corridor.

I've skimmed the second chapter but because three chapters is a lot of writing, I will come back to your work after looking at other folks'. I can tell you've got the depth of worldbuilding behind your story, and it sounds like an interesting culture that you've developed. :) If you show more of this detail in the story [without outright stating it], I think it will pull the reader in a lot more. If you'd like help with any of the suggestions outlined above or in the document, let me know - I'm happy to clarify and assist.

All the best with your writing!

@Penstorm

@Riorlyne, Thank you SO much for all that you did. I opened the googledocs looking for your feedback and there was nothing listed so I don't know if I am looking at it right.
Thank you for the feedback and these chapters are the bones of a chapters so I know that I need a lot of work. It is hard for me because I see the scenes happening like a movie in my head so I try to write as much as I can and it turns into a big description or none at all.
If you are able to read the others chapters that would be a huge help if not I understand and thank you again.

@Riorlyne pets

@Riorlyne, Thank you SO much for all that you did. I opened the googledocs looking for your feedback and there was nothing listed so I don't know if I am looking at it right.

So sorry about this, I checked the privacy settings and somehow all my suggested edits were set to hidden. You should be able to see the inline feedback now at that link, which I'll paste again here.

@Riorlyne pets

@LittleBear - I finally got a good chunk of time to look at your second excerpt properly. As always, inline feedback here. I figured out a new way to comment, so if you could let me know which style you prefer (typing sentences directly into the document vs. typing comments in little boxes to the side) that would be great.

General Feedback

  • Tenses: I don't know if this was intentional or just due to the fact that it was a rough draft, but during the whipping scene and in Erion's recovery, you switch between past and present tense a lot. Some of these switches work (although my personal preference is no switches, with emphasis on personal) but others are a bit jarring.
  • Action: When multiple people are involved in the action, it can be hard for the reader to keep track of where everyone is. For example, when the house burns down, the last mention of the baby is when the mother's curled around him trying to ward off the smoke. However, it's the fact that there was a baby in there that makes Erion interrupt the Spy Master later, so I think the baby should at least be mentioned during the escape from the house, if not be at the forefront of Erion's mind.
  • Dialogue tags: I tend to be pretty picky with these, so apologies in advance. I would recommend that you insert some of your dialogue tags a little earlier into your characters' lines. This has several benefits: it alerts the reader who is speaking sooner; it fits better with emphatic tags (like spat, shouted, yelled, coughed, etc. - try spitting three lines of dialogue and you'll see what I mean); it adds variety to flow and pacing when tags are in different locations; and it means you are less likely to tack an additional adverb or action onto the tag, which is generally discouraged in fiction writing anyway. As an example,
    Replace

    “The subject is Halis Onrin, he will be in his residence in the Selian district,” Maious said as he handed me a slip of parchment.

    With

    "The subject is Halis Onrin," Maious said. He handed me a slip of parchment. "He will be in his residence in the Selian district."

In all, this section is very vivid and gripping. You can feel Erion's moral struggle and pain and there wasn't a single place where I felt that anyone's words or actions were out of character, even given the little I know of these characters. I loved the little touches of worldbuilding - the lush carpets, the smell of incense, the conscience of an Uradavi - and they came at just the right moments too - they didn't feel shoehorned in at all. I hope you want your readers to hate the Spy Master, because I most certainly do (I'm not feeling all that affectionate toward Erion's mother, either). I even learned a thing! (that we have two arteries in our neck)

If this is a rough draft, you must know your characters and setting extremely well, because it flowed beautifully. Whatever the sheer amount of minor edits in the linked document might lead you to believe, I really enjoyed this piece.

All the best as you continue with this story! If you have excerpts you want feedback on in the future, I am more than happy to assist. :)

@LittleBear group

@Riorlyne Thanks so much for catching all of my mistakes! And holy crap, I didn't notice that tense shift -whoops! I like this form of commenting because they're all just on the margin so I can read them much easier. And allow me to geek out for a moment…. YES! His mother is the main villain, I am so glad you were able to pick up on that. And to answer a few little questions, there is an entire pantheon of Gods and Goddesses, almost like the Greeks or Egyptians. And about Sela and why she is a blonde - they are all at a spy/courtesan training camp in Lian (think Egypt/Turkey), but most of them are from Darion (Italy/France) or other surrounding countries. They train there so that if they make a mistake and are discovered in Lian, they can still work in their home countries.

And lol in American English "storey" gives you the red squiggly!

@Riorlyne pets

Hi @NobleWolf - I'd be happy to! I've put most of my inline edits and comments here.

Dialogue

Writing dialogue is something I consider one of my strengths, so I'll outline a few tips here. :)

As you know, anything spoken is enclosed in quotation marks, like so:

"Where are we going?"

This works for sentences, exclamations and questions.

"Where are we going?"
"Not to the ballet, that's for sure."
"What? You're so mean!"

It's when we add dialogue tags that it gets trickier. Dialogue tags are anything along the lines of he said, she said, the general shouted, etc. The one condition is that the verb used in a dialogue tag has to be one that relates to speaking, so he nodded and she glanced don't work. Also, make sure that the dialogue tag fits the spoken words it's referring to so that the narrative flows more smoothly.

"I can't believe there aren't any packets of doughnuts in the express lane anymore!" she snapped.

  • That's too long of a line to 'snap'.

"No!" he hissed.

  • There aren't any s, sh or z sounds in that for the guy to hiss.

When you add a tag to dialogue, you can put it in a variety of spots: at the beginning, between two sentences, in the middle of a sentence, or at the end. (?), (!) (…) and (–) in the original dialogue remain unchanged when you add a tag, but full stops (.) change to commas (,) when a tag comes right after them. I'll use this piece of dialogue as an example:

"Mum, this broccoli is overcooked. It makes me feel sick."

  • Tag first

    She said, "Mum, this broccoli is overcooked. It makes me feel sick."

Notice how we use a comma after the tag, and begin the dialogue with a capital because it's the beginning of the spoken sentence. The tag also begins with a capital because it's the very beginning of the sentence.

  • Tag between two sentences

    "Mum, this broccoli is overcooked," she said. "It makes me feel sick."

Notice how we end that first bit of dialogue with a comma instead of a full stop so that we can add the tag. The tag starts with a lowercase (because it comes after the dialogue) and ends with a full stop because the next bit of dialogue is a new sentence.

  • Tag in the middle of a sentence

    "Mum," she said, "this broccoli is overcooked. It makes me feel sick."

This time, the tag ends with a comma because the sentence is not finished. The dialogue after the tag starts with a lowercase to show that the sentence is continuing from where it left off.

  • Tag last

    "Mum, this broccoli is overcooked. It makes me feel sick," she said.

Again, the dialogue ends with a comma so that we can add the tag.

Dialogue tags always start with a lowercase (except if they're names, obviously) when they come after a bit of dialogue, no matter what punctuation the dialogue ends with.

"Where are my shoes?" he asked.
"That's not fair!" she cried.
"I'm coming at 6 PM," the lady said.
"Maybe…" she murmured.
"I can't believe you'd–" she began. Thomas cut her off.

Additional actions do not start with a lowercase.

"I'm coming!" He raced for the door.
"I'm not sure." She glanced at her friend.
"Help! Hel–" Her cries were cut short as the door slammed shut.

A last note is that (…) is used for trailing off into silence, and (–) is used for being cut off abruptly.

I hope that this was helpful! Let me know if you have any questions. All the best with your writing!

@NobleWolf

@Riorlyne Wow! thank you for the feedback, and especially the dialogue tips. I really learned a lot. Was there anything you particularly liked, or did anything really stand out to you?

Kellsey

Hello, if you're still open, could you please look at one of my prologues? This is more of a first draft than anything, as it's a rewrite. I see some issues, but I'd like a second opinion. Thank you so much!

On a calm drizzly evening, Imdeli stood on the branches of a sedalen tree, collecting the sweet, blue nuts from its swinging bundles. The pouch at her waist was almost full, and she resigned herself to stop after this last bunch.
“Imdeli!” a sweet voice carried up to where she was. A glance down revealed a young, blue haired girl, no older than seven. “Shasha says if you can get akala too.” Imdeli made a face.
“But that mean I have to go into the swamps,” she groaned, “and I don’t have my muck shoes. Can you tell her that, Silemi?”
“I have your shoes!” Silemi struggled to hold up a pair of boots nearly her own size. Imdeli sighed, stuffed a last handful of nuts in her bag, and descended from the tree.
“Okay, but tell Shasha it’ll take a me a bit to gather them.” she lifted the bag from her waist and settled it around her sister’s midsection. She tottered a bit from the weight, then stabilized, “Take these to her, but save some for me. I want to make some paint. Okay?” Silemi smiled widely.
“Okay.” Silemi ran off on her small, booted legs. As Imdeli watched, the little girl slipped in the mud briefly, righted herself, and kept on going. It was only once she saw her disappear past the tree line that she reluctantly put on her boots.
Normally, Imdeli loved going into the swamps. She was number one in her class at mud hopping, a childish game in which they’d try their hardest to hop through the swamps without getting covered in muck. At this time though, with the light waning and no one to cheer her on, she didn’t much feel like going into the mud.
That sentiment was magnified tenfold when, as soon as she stepped in, her boot sunk four inches and stuck. It wasn’t uncommon to lose a shoe or five in the swamps, but she really didn’t need this now. All she wanted was to go home and paint. After a minute of pulling and straining, she gave up and, with a furtive glance around, began to float in the air.
Her small feet slipped from her shoes as she rose and, ever so slowly and with a lot of effort, rotated until her head faced the dirty water below. She hoped desperately he could hold on to the power she’d yet to understand, as she had many times before; she didn’t want to plunge headfirst into the swamps. Her whole body tensed in effort, she glided gently across the surface, looking for telltale light yellow blob that would point to the tuber she was looking for. Akala tubers were difficult to find for untrained eyes, as their leaves were just as brown as the water they floated in. But after some time and silent focus, she’d managed to pull four of the rather large vegetables from the water and tucked them into her jacket. Physically and mentally exhausted at this point from the use of her power, she moved back to the shore even slower than she’d moved away from it. She was almost there, oh so close, when a resounding boom disturbed her concentration, sending her into the swampy water.
She emerged with a desperate gasp, gagging at the sulfuric smell plugged in her nose and mouth. Blinded by muck, she crawled her way out and lay on the shore. There came another boom, and she looked up in alarm-turned-terror at the orange halo above the treeline.
“Fire,” she whispered, “Fire!” she got to her feet and ran, wondering what had happened, worried for her home.
Flames as high as Salakna above, heat rivalling that of her mother’s oven. This is what she came across when she emerged from the trees, swamp waste trailing behind her. Dark figures moved within the fires that consumed her village, releasing screams and wails so horrible she felt the need to plug her ears. She stood there in horror, drinking it in, before a strange sight snapped her out of it.
One of the figures, large and menacing, approached another on the ground. The crawling figure held up hand in appeal when - oh god - the larger one lifted a spear and ran it through them. The speared figure jerked, it’s mouth opened in a scream that only joined so many others. Imdeli herself screamed, but couldn’t hear it over the cacophony. And then time seemed to freeze.
What was going on?
Who were these people?
Where was her family?
The swamps!
The swamps, being what they were, would catch in a second, and burn for months to come. Torn between duty to her village and worry for her family, she finally turned away from the direction of her home and set toward the emergency shacks along the entry to the swamplands. As quickly as she could, hoping others would come soon to relieve her of this job that was really too much for her, she grabbed their fire repellants and set to work lining them up against the fire. They consisted of long netted socks filled with fibers soaked in juices from the linala plant. She stacked them as much as she could, even with all the chaos going on around her. She was busy tying two sections together when a scream shattered her intense focus, and something heavy thumped into her back, sending her flying onto her stomach and into the fibers.
“Get away!” a voice screamed in terror before trailing off into a wet gurgle. Such an awful sound. Imdeli rose on her elbows and knees.
“What the-” Rough hands grabbed the back of her shirt, dragging her up and down onto her butt.
The man she looked at was not one she’d ever seen before in her small village. Large, barrel chested in the way her people weren’t. His golden eyes held square pupils unlike any she’d ever seen, and a cruel frown slashed across his face like a scar. Worst of all, his bald head, glistening with sweat, was devoid of her people’s horns. He was not one of them.
“You are coming with me.” he commanded, bringing her in closely. Her scream was cut off with a knock of his meaty hand, leaving her vision blurry as he dragged her closer to the village square. She struggled against his grip, fighting him all the way, before suddenly grabbing one of the Akala still secured in her jacket and mashing the thick end against his hand. They weren’t very dense or heavy, but still it came as a surprise, and the man let go. He reached for her again, but she pelted him with her remaining roots and scrambled away.
There was so much fire, and it was so hot. The screams, the pain in her cheek, they were all so much. She wanted her mom, her father, needed them. Where were they? Where was her sister? She crawled on her stomach in the direction of somewhere, anywhere safe, when a heavy boot stomped into her back and she groaned. So much agony! She didn’t want to do this anymore. She didn’t want to be here. With as much energy as she could muster, she dragged herself into a drainage ditch and curled into a ball. No one saw her as they ran by, no one called her name. No one disturbed her as the shock finally took over and she stilled, eyes fixed to the stone in front of her. As the end came falling all around her, Imdeli became blind to the world.

@LittleBear group

If you are not too bogged down, would you take a look at these two scenes? This is the third draft for both. A little extra background, Natiselle is the adopted daughter of Erion ((my character who was whipped)). Aelina is a girl from court that is jealous of her relationship with a high lord, Strisen. Strisen is unaware that he has a long lost twin, Kraiotan, who happens to be Natiselle's adopted brother. Yeah, I know… a little confusing. I want to make sure the fight scene has enough tension in it without being over the top, as well as ensuring Nati doesn't come across as an emotionless machine.

Aelina

Her dark curls shone even here in the dim lamplight of the outer district. It baffled me how even now her features could be this stunning and it somehow justified my plan. No one could be that perfect–suspiciously perfect. We rounded the corner and the street, now little more than a rocky alley way took a turn for the worse. Grime crept down the brick walls of buildings and debris littered the ground. In the distance I could hear the yowls of fighting cats and screech of black birds.

She did not even seem to notice the sudden change in scenery. Natiselle continued to titter on about some gown she had seen at the dressmaker’s and how it was so unfair that her color choices were so limited by the Pravaci Court. She was utterly unconcerned that we were steadily approaching some of the worst parts of the city.

Then, as if on cue, a dark figure stepped out of the shadows. “Two pretty ladies. Bless Archanie. Looks like a win tonight, eh lads?” I turned around and saw two more ruffians behind us. Something was terribly wrong. It was only supposed to be Jatil; he had assured me that he would do it himself. The man in front of us was decidedly not Jatil, he was much too tall. The bottom of my stomach fell and my hands began to shake, the full weight of my mistake dawned on me.

Natiselle took a step forward and looked the man up and down. I wanted nothing more than to yell at her for being a fool but my voice seemed to have deserted me

“Now, what would you lovely gentlemen want with us?” She played with the ribbon at the front of her dress as she moved. “Surely it would be more prudent for you to escort us to our destination and be rewarded handsomely upon our arrival.” She dared to flutter her eyelashes at them. “Our purses are much too meager to satisfy the three of you.”

“Hear that? We’re gentlemen now,” the stout one snickered.

“She speaks such pretty words, but oh how stupid,” the leader leered. They started to circle us, like predator around prey, like the hyenas from my books. “You see lovely, a nice clean toss is so hard to find in the out parts. There is so much more than your purse to be had.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen such a delicate lady in my life,” the thin one panted.

The leader cocked his head and looked at Natiselle, “What do you think lads, I think darkie over here can take two of us.”

“I don’t care as long as I get blondie.”

The air seemed to shift, like a cloak falling away, revealing the world as it truly was. I looked at Natiselle and gone was the frivolous girl who cared only about her jewels, in her stead was a steely eyed creature with a lip curling in rage. “Wrong thing to say, ‘lads’,” disgust dripped from her voice, a full octave lower than normal. She pulled at the ribbon she had been fiddling with and her skirt and petticoats fell away, revealing tightfitting trousers and flat soled boots. Somehow she had managed to secure two forearm length blades and a whip to her thighs. “I can take all three of you.”

My skin crawled as if the claw of death had trailed down the length of my spine. I could hear the blood rushing to my ears, a throbbing beat like war drums that drowned out everything else. She strung into action and if I had not been too terrified to move, I would have shielded my eyes. With a flick the whip wrapped itself around the main thug’s neck and his eyes bugged as he clawed at his throat. The stocky one ran at her and she nimbly slid out of the way, turning and pulling at her whip in the same motion. He missed her and she kicked out the back of his knees as he ran past her and sent him sprawling.

“Natiselle, behind you!” I yelped as the last remaining ruffian approached her back, knife in hand. She turned at the last moment and drew one of her blades. She blocked him with her forearm and ducked under his swipe. Figuring that she needed both hands, she let go of the whip and threw the blade at the leader. It found its mark in his stomach and he looked down in shock. With a yank he pulled it out and immediately blood bloomed across his shirt. I could feel the bile rising in my throat.

She did not even pause. Natiselle had pulled her remaining blade and was ducking and weaving around each swipe he tried to land. She danced around him, slicing at any opening–his back, side, cheek. Every cut she landed caused him to roar with pain or anger.

Suddenly, I could feel a grimy hand at my throat, pulling backwards. The stocky one that had fallen, I had forgotten about him. I could feel his hot breath on my head, smelling of rot and his last meal. His sweaty shirt clung to my back and I could almost feel it through my bodice. A gasp escaped me and Natiselle’s face whipped around. Her eyes narrowed as spots danced in my vision. She raised her hand and her dagger flew through the air. Space seemed to hang still as it came towards us. My knees buckled and only his hand was keeping upright. Then I could feel wetness in my hair and on my forehead. His grip fell away and air flooded my lungs.

I turned to look at him and saw the hilt protruding from his thick neck. My stomach heaved and I fell to all fours. The gravel bit into my palms, but the stable ground comforted me. I lifted my head and saw Natiselle behind the last one, her elbow in line with his jaw and her legs wrapped around his waist. She was clutching on of her fists and looked to be pulling up with all her might, her teeth gritted in the effort. Her lips were moving, almost as if she was counting. He clawed at her arm for a moment before pitching forward.

She did not let go for what seemed like an eternity. When she finally rolled off of him, her heaving breath the only sound in the night. She stumbled to her feet, cleaned her hands on her now filthy trousers, and started to retrieve her weapons. I watched as she wiped the blood from her blades on each victim’s clothes before sheathing them again.

“How –” I started, “How did you do that? You met your mark every time.” She looked at me and I realized my mouth must have been agape. I dragged my sleeve across it in an effort to remove the bile.

“I was aiming for their foreheads,” she said, her face flushed but otherwise emotionless. Her eyes narrowed and my heart sank as if I knew what the next words out of her mouth would be. “You knew this was going to happen did you not? This is why you brought me here.” Her voice was so quiet and fear shot through me. “There is no ‘delicious dining hall’ in this region is there?”

“I – I did not expect for this–” I stumbled over my words, “my friend was –”

“To what? Jump out and scare me?”

“I, yes, but –”

“Why?” she spat.

“I was jealous.” It was not until the words left my mouth that I realized my true motivation. The look in her eyes seemed to turn from murder to something like pity. To my surprise she offered me a hand. “Are you not going to kill me?”

“Why? Are you trying to kill me? She asked, a singular eyebrow quirking up.

“No.”

“Then why in three hells would I kill you?” she cursed.

“I know that you are not what you seem. You are more than just some lord’s daughter, here to find a wealthy husband.” Finally my voice seemed to find its footing.

“You owe me now, three times over. You are too useful to dispose of now,” she said, “and I am not an animal. I would never kill an unarmed man or woman." She shook her hand at me. Are you going to stay on the ground in your own filth?”

I took her hand and she pulled me to my feet. She collected her skirt and refastened it to her waist, but not before I noticed the cuts on her arms and legs. “I am so sorry. You are hurt!” I exclaimed.

She turned to look at herself. “Hmm, so I am.” Natiselle looked down at her skirt and swore at the now stained mess they were in. “I want my clothes mended and laundered by Wednesday.” I nodded vigorously. Satisfied, she started back the way we came.

A puff of air escaped me and I was overcome with relief. As the adrenaline left me, exhaustion took its place. I followed after her, trying by best to keep my fatigue at bay. After a while, we made it back to a main street. “Let me see your house gem.” She thrust her hand at me and without a word I pulled the ruby from its place next to my heart. She closed her hand around the golden chain and said, “Follow my lead.” She stumbled toward an approaching carriage, her fist outstretched with the ruby swinging and glittering in the lamplight. I did not need to pretend to be tired, my legs felt like lead.

“Help!” She cried, managing to be both breathless and loud. We must have been a sight, Natiselle with her tattered and bloody sleeves and me with bile and blood in my hair.
The carriage slowed and the alarmed lord and lady peered out. “Please, we beg your help to the Pravaci District.” The lady looked at her husband and put a gentile hand on his arm. “House Toulerin will reward you greatly”. He nodded and the door swung open. I sunk into the cushions gratefully and promptly fainted.

Natiselle –

I did not take a full breath until I reached my chambers. When I finally released my fists and the tension left me, my knees buckled. My heart threatened to beat out of my chest and I could feel the blood draining from my cheeks.

With fumbling fingers, I tugged at the ribbon again and I escaped my skirt. I tried to work myself out of the corset, but it was much too tight. I could not even begin to imagine the terror a lady's maid would have at the sight of me. Gods it was so pretty, the thought of damaging it pained me, but I felt as if it was constricting my very soul. Before I could change my mind, I dragged my blade down my back and felt the soft snap of each cord. It fell away from me and my chest rejoiced. Newly liberated, I made my way to the washroom and began to wash the blood from my hands.

I made the mistake of looking up and immediately I wished that I had kept my head down. The woman who looked back at me had wild eyes and disheveled hair. I turned away from myself and focused singularly on my hands. The vigorous movement shook the porcelain and the water threatened to splash everywhere. Still I scrubbed. I scrubbed until the soap slipped from my grip and in an effort to catch it; I knocked the basin to the ground. It shattered spectacularly and the pink water splashed everywhere. I cursed as I bent down to pick up the shards.

“What happened?” I did not need to lift my head to know that Kraio was standing in the doorway. He came, knelt next to me, and began picking up the shards with his deft fingers.

“Nothing I cannot handle.”

“Should I be worried?” He got up and gingerly placed the pieces on the countertop.

"Your little plaything is going to be terrified for a while," I managed, "but there is nothing I could have done about that."

“What happened?” he asked again.

I spun on him and snapped, “I do not wish to dwell on it, Kraiotan. Leave me be!”
He seemed to truly take me in, a wild mess of raw hands and bloody arms.

“How many?” He already knew.

“Three.”

“What did they do?” His voice was deathly quiet.

"Threatened us." My voice quaked and I could not bear to look at him. My hand flew to my mouth, and I could smell the iron. "They wanted to have their way with us."

He closed the distance between us and enveloped me in his arms. “Oh sister, I am so sorry.” I buried my head in the crook of his shoulder. “I want nothing more than to kill them.” I could feel the tension coursing through him. “But it seems you beat me to it.”

“I did not even know their names.” I hated myself for it but my voice broke. I so desperately wanted to be a harsh and unrelenting wave of wrath. But try as I might, I could not help but think of how I had a family to comfort me. Did they? “Kraio, I just –” I sobbed, “They probably have loved ones – had, had loved ones.”

He took a step away from me and held me at arm’s length. “Nati, listen to me. None of this is your fault.” I could not face him. “Look at me. They put you in a position where your life was threatened. You know this. Your head knows this.” He gently lifted my chin. “They made their choices and you made yours. Thankfully, you came out on top and you will never find me wishing that you had not. Even though you drive me mad, the world is better with you in it.”

All I could do was nod and he pulled me in again, perching his chin on the top of my head. “And because I know you, I know that you are going to beat yourself up over feeling remorse.” I clutched on tighter. “You are human, I would worry if you felt nothing.”

@Riorlyne pets

Hi all! Sorry for the delay in getting back to you. I have taken a short break to focus on worldbuilding, but I’m back in business now. I’ll be taking a look at the latest excerpts soon. :)

@Riorlyne pets

@Kellsey - I have finally had a look at your prologue. :) Inline comments can be found here. I hope that they're easy enough to follow.

General Feedback

  • Structure: I think the biggest issue I noticed with this piece is the shift in tension when Imdeli goes to put out the fire-retardants during the attack. It seems a bit out of place for her to be able to so calmly and efficiently set them out when everyone around her is screaming, being stabbed and dragged off, etc. I would have expected her first instinct to be to look for her family, and if that's not possible, for her to flee to safety. It's not clear from your prologue why she sees stopping the fire as being of a higher priority, especially since the fire is already burning up her home, and I think that it could work just as well if the side-plot of stopping the fire is omitted (unless that part has a greater significance somewhere along the line in your story).
    If it does have greater significance, I think it needs to be tweaked so that it doesn't break the suspense and tension of that bit of your story. My thoughts were focusing on things like "Why is a swamp, something full of water, at danger of catching fire?" "What sort of plant is a linala?" "How do these things stop fire anyway?" which isn't the path you want to lead the reader on at this point in the story, I don't think.
  • Setting: For this short piece, you establish a sense of setting very well. I am reminded of coastal mangroves with thick, slimy mud and twisty, wide-spreading trees throughout. That said, I think a little more relevant detail would not go amiss, such as mentioning earlier the fact that Imdeli's species have horns (such as when speaking of Silemi - "a young girl whose blue hair was carefully parted to show off her newly-sprouted horns") and including more references to the community. I may be wrong, but I'm guessing Imdeli's people are rural and highly communal, so it can come across as a little strange that Imdeli is doing all these tasks alone and is interested in painting, usually a solitary exercise.
    I understand that it's difficult to walk the fine line between rich, descriptive writing and infodumping. What has helped me to incorporate detail in a useful fashion is to use it in little pieces to further plot or characterisation (such as in the horns example I gave above - it's not saying, "oh, and Silemi's species has horns", it's saying "Silemi is proud of being a 'big girl' now"). You have a great example of that in this line, which instead of saying "oh, and the swamp smells awful", is saying "the swamp's awful smell is causing problems for the MC":

    She emerged with a desperate gasp, gagging at the sulfuric smell plugged in her nose and mouth.

  • Sequence: In general, it's better to structure sentences and paragraphs so that what happens first appears first, and so on. This is sometimes hard to spot, but I've marked a few places where your narrative sort of skips forward and then goes back. If this is done purposefully (like in a flashback) it can be used effectively, but at the sentence level it often only causes confusion for the reader, because they're forced to 'rewind' the image they have of the story in their head, and that breaks the immersion for them.

I can tell your work is going to incorporate some great worldbuilding and (it looks like) diverse culture, so all the best as you continue! I look forward to seeing where this story leads.

All the best with your writing!

Kellsey

@Riorlyne
Thank you so much for the advice! Looking at your comments reinforces what I think is problematic in my writing, but I've just never known how to fix it. As for information, I do find I'm having trouble incorporating worldbuilding elements without infodumping. For example, that pause in which she sets out the fire retardants comes from how heavily indoctrinated her people are with the idea of the community's wellbeing coming first. However, I can definitely think of ways to get by it. Similarly, her desire to paint comes from her culture, which places importance on visual representations of stories (as it brings the community together in allowing everyone to get a sense of a person's self through these visuals.) After thinking it through, I figure it'd probably be best to omit this and then bring it back in later chapters as her Imdeli's character is further developed.

As for my writing itself, I realize have quite a few issues with pacing, passive voice, etc. Your identification of them, however, is very helpful because I've never been able to pinpoint what exactly seems off. Hopefully, I'll be able to get where I'd like to be.

Again, thank you so much for taking the time to look at my writing! I very much appreciate it :)

Deleted user

Nothing at the idea stage, please. This is simply because the most boring, clichéd idea can be amazing if well-written, and having the best idea in the world is no use if it's presented in a terrible way. Because it all depends on what an author does with the idea, I prefer not to give feedback on things at the idea stage. Plots with a moderate level of detail are fine, but something along the lines of "misunderstood half-orc learns magic to defeat army of tabby cats" is too open-ended.
Let me know what stage the writing is at. If it's a first draft, I would look more at things like characterisation and flow, whereas if you consider it close to finished, I would pay a closer look at grammar and spelling.
I live in Australia. Being upside-down and all, my replies might not be at a friendly hour for your timezone, but if the thread title still says (OPEN), I will reply!
I will try my best to give balanced feedback, but if you'd prefer a more gentle approach (or conversely, brutal honesty) don't hesitate to let me know.
I will reply in a comment to this thread unless you specifically request that I send feedback in a private message. :)

The story is close to the beginning, around six to seven chapters deep. May I have address (out of bless, address, press method) (aka saying both what I'm good at and bad at)?
I mean… I already edit things like spelling and grammar as I go, so maybe not that?
It's fine if you don't accept fanfics!

@Riorlyne pets

Hello everyone!

First of all, I'm sorry for letting this slide into oblivion without giving people a heads-up about it or letting you guys know whether I was still offering critique or not. At the very least, I should have changed the title to "CLOSED". I'm aiming to do better in future, and (a) be honest about having bitten off more than I could chew, and (b) try not to take on that much in the first place.

Which brings me to the second thing: I would like to open up my "offering feedback" offer again. :) This time, I'll start with just 5 spots, and reassess how I'm going at the end of the 5 so that things stay manageable for me.

Most of my points from my original post still stand:

  • Nothing at the idea stage, please. This is simply because the most boring, clichéd idea can be amazing if well-written, and having the best idea in the world is no use if it's presented in a terrible way. Because it all depends on what an author does with the idea, I prefer not to give feedback on things at the idea stage. Plots with a moderate level of detail are fine, but something along the lines of "misunderstood half-orc learns magic to defeat army of tabby cats" is too open-ended.
  • Let me know what stage the writing is at. If it's a first draft, I would look more at things like characterisation and flow, whereas if you consider it close to finished, I would pay a closer look at grammar and spelling.
  • I live in Australia. Being upside-down and all, my replies might not be at a friendly hour for your timezone, but I will do my best to reply!
  • I will try my best to give balanced feedback, but if you'd prefer a more gentle approach (or conversely, brutal honesty) don't hesitate to let me know.
  • I will reply in a comment to this thread unless you specifically request that I send feedback in a private message. :)
Spots Open/Filled
  1. LittleBear
  2. Relsey
  3. OPEN
  4. OPEN
  5. OPEN

@LittleBear , @NobleWolf and @Penstorm , I think I may have abandoned the thread without responding to your requests for feedback. If you're still active and would still like some (I am aware it has been several months!) please feel free to ask again and I'll add you in with first priority.

(This also goes for anyone else to whom I did not respond earlier in the thread.)

@Relsey

Hello! I have a solid outline of the plot for my book series I'd like critiqued. It's in the middle stages of development right now, I'd like to know if it makes sense to some one other then my self and if you think any elements should be expanded on or scrapped.