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 Stories of the Red Clay

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Leaka


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PostSubject: Stories of the Red Clay   October 20th 2008, 10:45 pm

Okay, this is what I am working. This is the story I needed you guys to help me with names.
I'm trying my hardest on this one.
But now I am stuck.
I need to find a way to get these three to meet each other. But I would like you guys to read this part of chapter one and tell me what you think.
Stories of the Red Clay
Chpt 1
[b]City of Euphemia[/b]
Persephone put her hand of the carriage. Her long golden blond hair was put into high pigtails, held by a dark blue ribbon. Her dress was a cream color and had dark blue lace. She wore knee high white stockings and wore black buckle shoes. She look liked a little doll as her lips were glossed with a light pink. Her dark gold eyes appeared to be the sun in this dark night. Here eyes were not to big to make here look bug eyed, but they were big enough to make her attractive.
Persephone smacked her lips together and then brought her hand into the carriage. She sighed heavily.

“So, boring,” she said.
Persephone started to swing her legs back and forth. Then the carriage stopped at its intended destination. Persephone stared out the carriage window. She saw the giant mansion, with so many light bulbs on it was unnecessary.
The carriage door was open by her footman and she stared at him. He was useless and unnecessary as well.
“Why do I have to go to another on of these stupid parties?” she said.
The footman stared at her, he had no permission to answer her and she liked it that way. She stepped out of the wooden carriage. She covered her nose the outside smelled like damp rain and trash. She liked the inside of her carriage better. Quaint with little fluffy seats, and the smell of vanilla.
She saw woman wearing large puffy dresses with, with large v-necks to show off their splendors. It made her sick how woman complained about not getting respect from men, but they all dressed like this. Look at her she was beautiful and fully cover up. She wasn't wear long skinny dresses that had a long line through her chest, or a big puffy dress that puffed out the woman's chest. She hated the other woman hung off their man, their chest so close to theirs.

As Persephone began walking onto the stone stairs of the mansion, she was beginning to regret her decision to come here. She wondered why she excepted the invitation anyway.
Oh, yes that was right. Since she was the daughter of Dyllandy, and owned his company after he killed over, she had to come to these places. She was only fourteen years of age and she was running an entire boring, useless, and ridiculous company.
Building the future with a safer cigarette, that held no tobacco. She hated the company, it could be said Persephone hated life.

Mountain of Apollo's Might
Cameo was hiding behind a rock again. It was another one of those nights that made it best to hideout outside. The people of his village were searching for him, but this was no hide and seek game. They wanted to use Cameo's body.
Cameo was not like them, or anyone. He was born special, male and female. Female at the bottom and male on top.
It gave him an unique looking face. It was semi-androgynous with an alien attractiveness. He was special, every few hundreds years someone was born this way. Cameo always called himself, him, but others called him “double”, “it”, and “thing”.

Cameo was about to get up when suddenly he was pinned to the ground. It was the man who guarded the gates of the small rundown village. It was known in the village the one with both sexes were always known to give birth to beautiful children.
And every hundred years the double would be given up to the king of the village who do away with the double, until the double bared his child.
The most beautiful child. The babies would be selected at birth. It was known that the kings were usually fickle and had the doubles perform births over a years span until they found the “right attractiveness”.
“No, let go of me,” Cameo said.
“You're coming back to the king...you are after all his married double,” the guard said.
Cameo struggled on the mountain ground. The autumn leaves obviously getting stuck in his long light brown hair, and his blue eyes shined like water. His dress already ripped and torn from running off. Finally, Cameo gave up the fight and the guard tied him up.
The villages came at the last moment.

“So you found the wretch, trying to run away,” the villagers said.
“Filthy pig wants us to die,” said an old woman whose hair was falling off in clumps.
“I am no child carrier,” Cameo said.
“Shut up...you are,”
“I'm a man, a man,”
“You're a woman down there, therefore you are a child carrier,” the guard said, “Don't deny you are woman.”
“Only part woman,.”

The guard clucked his tongue and the horse began to move. Cameo knew this was true, he was half and half. He could be whatever the man who bought his body wanted him to be.

Underground Facility of Xander
He was in no true state to fight, but Jericho continued to try to break the bonds that binded him. His black bangs continued to get into his silver eyes as he struggled and struggled. But he couldn't set himself free.
Not only that, but Jericho wasn't even sure he was in a room. The walls were so smooth and glossy, they were so smooth and black like his short flowing black hair. And the lines that ran through the walls was white, like his skin. His skin resembled the brightness of the moon. He was quite attractive even in a situation were his eyes gleamed with frustration.
He growled and started to fight again. Trying to gain more strength. Then a blinding white light shined into the room. Two shadowed figures walked in. And when they got closer, they wore long white coats and had gelled back hair.
They looked strange because they look somewhat like twins, except one had glasses and the other didn't. They both smelled heavy of some sort of clone, as if to mask something else. The scent of blood.

“Now you mustn't do that,” they said together, “If you fight like this you are going to hurt yourself.”
“Who are you?” Jericho asked, “How did I get here?”
“We are your friends,” they said, “Now we are going to help you.”
“I don't need your help,” Jericho said.
“Yes, yes, you will need our help,”
One of the men, the man with glasses, took out a syringe. He inserted in his neck and Jericho felt his eyes getting heavy.
“What...” Jericho couldn't manage the last of his words.
And before he fully fell and his eyes closed a woman walked in he could tell from the shapely figure of her.

“You have quieted him down successfully,” she paused, “Good...”
Her last words couldn't be heard and the memory of the figures burned through his dreamless state. The wondering of what she would have finished saying, was his nightmares.
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TerishD


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PostSubject: Reply   October 20th 2008, 11:27 pm

All right, I am not going to fuss at you. It's just, well, don't worry about how they meet. Worry about the characters and story. I believe that you are rushing your creative process.

You got your names, fine, now work on the PEOPLE. Work on describing them. Start with that first paragraph, and rewrite it without using WAS and without simply listing details. Now that you have certain things decided upon, make the WRITING present the facts without being so bland. Work on making the sentence, 'Her dress was a cream color and had dark blue lace' worth reading. SUGGESTION: You have the first paragraph start with the hand movement, then you mention the hand again after that paragraph. Good, work with the hands and make her APPEAR bored even as you describe her (no need to have her say it).

The next paragraph (after she speaks) is really poor. You seem to have something in your head that did not get typed. 'She saw the giant mansion, with so many light bulbs on it was unnecessary.' Light bulbs on the mansion? Unnecessary for what?

'He was useless and unnecessary as well.' He was useless and unnecessary for what? He seemed to be doing his job.

'She wondered why she excepted the invitation anyway.'
She wondered why she HAD ACCEPTED the invitation anyway.

You have good information here. The problem is that you need to work on your presentation. Get inside the head of your lady. The PoV is from HER perspective, so make me (the reader) feel that I AM inside her head thinking those thoughts. You are going to have to THINK like a young female, which is next to impossible, but work your imagination to at least present your interpretation of the character.

I would then extend the scene to include some worth for the presentation. Besides simply describing the lady, make her a part of your story. Get the action moving. Don't switch to the next character until you believe you have your reader hooked on this one (then duplicate the steps with them).

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Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.
Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market.  "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.
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Leaka


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PostSubject: Re: Stories of the Red Clay   October 20th 2008, 11:37 pm

Thank you for the criticism. I appreciate it.
You are right I should explain a little better.

You know you have on so many lights and no one is using the room.
That is an unnecessary waist of energy.
So many lights bulbs on, it was unnecessary.

The girl gets bored with life pretty easily and people too.
She is know for firing people who are newly hired.

Are you saying the others were bland as well?
Well, um what parts are bland?
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TerishD


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PostSubject: Reply   October 21st 2008, 8:00 am

Leaka wrote:
Are you saying the others were bland as well?
Well, um what parts are bland?
Work on the lady. I believe that she can teach you. Figure out how to get inside her head. Work on her story to make her introduction more complete and worth the reading. Play with the words to gain a narrative flow and not simply a listing of scenic details. The lessons you learn doing that should help you see what to do on the others.

I am going to be mean now. There is work to writing. If you want to write, you have to put out the effort to learn the rules (you know, grammar). You have to spend the time working on technique. You need to figure out how to notice things around you, then put those actions and details into scenes and characters of your own devising. All of that takes work. You have a story to tell, good - get to work.

_________________
Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.
Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market.  "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.
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