A Short Scene

[Culhwch]

I wrote this little scene a few days ago and have just now done a quick rewrite. It's from a novel I have been chipping away at for awhile now. In truth I've done more world-building than actual writing, so far, but this scene came to me almost fully realised, so I got it down as soon as I could. At the moment, as I have it planned, it sits as the opening of the second part, maybe a quarter of the way into the book. Since writing it I have had a bit of a rethink, and I'm wondering whether or not the story actually lays away from the character I had so far been focussing on. But then, that's a whole other discussion. Here I was just after impressions - how it flows, any comments on style, tone, voice, whether it holds the interest, draws you in. You know, the usual suspects. Cheers.

I

Alexya woke from her dream with a start, heart racing, bedclothes tangled around her legs. For a handful of moments she was disoriented, unsure of where she was. The familiar scents of her room – lavender, with a hint of witch’s wand – as well as the quiet snores coming from the truckle-bed beside her own brought her back. It was still dark, but some weak light bled through the drapes that covered the opening leading to her balcony. The sun must only now be rising.

Once she had caught her breath, Alexya slipped quietly off the end of her bed, careful not to wake the maidservant still blissfully asleep not three feet away. She padded barefoot across the rushes, pausing first at her writing desk to collect a leather-bound book, before pushing through the drapes and stepping onto her balcony.

The sun was indeed rising, a golden arc just now emerging from the eastern horizon, turning the sea to gold as far as the eye could see. Below her, below the Old Keep, Middlesea was still swathed in darkness. There was life there, lanterns blinking in the morning gloom like fireflies as folk got an early start on the day – or a late finish to the night before. Offshore, Alexya could see the lights of ships moored in the harbour bob up and down on the swell. As she watched, their silhouettes became more and more tangible. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath, savouring the cool morning air and the quiet before the hustling day began in truth.

There was a small marble-topped table on her balcony, with two ornate iron chairs tucked underneath. Here Alexya sat, laying the book in front of her. The leather was stained a deep blue, the blue of the sky to the west, and a silver rose had been worked into the cover in silken thread. The book had been a gift from her father, almost a year before. She ran a hand over the rose, delicate, blooming, and full of life.

When you dream, her father had said, write. So she wrote, before the memories fled with the night.

[flynx]

As a scene setter, I've definitely got the picture, unfortunately I have no idea what the girl looks like. (maybe you've said previously, so that's ok)


Pace is pretty good, slow like waking up. The style and tone are covered below:


AlexyaThis is just me, I don't like the name woke from her dream with a start, her heart racing, the bedclothes tangled around her legs. For a handful of moments she was disoriented, unsure of where she was. (after the comma is redundant) The familiar scents of her room – lavender, with a hint of witch’s wand – as well as the quiet snores coming from the truckle-bed beside her own brought her back. (Unless these scents are renewed throughout the night, then one sleepers den smells very much like another) It was still dark, but [some]cut weak light bled through the drapes that covered the opening leading to her balcony. The sun must only now be rising.

Once she had caught her breath, (not happy about this phrase because it suggests heavy labour rather then just gasping yourself awake from a dream) Alexya slipped quietly (I'm often told never to use adjectives [-ly words] I think it's good advice) off the end of her bed, (period [full stop] instead of a the comma and begin the next sentence here>)careful not to wake the maidservant still blissfully asleep not three feet away. (comma) She padded barefoot across the rushes, pausing [first] at her writing desk to collect a leather-bound book, before pushing through the drapes and stepping onto her balcony.

The sun was [indeed rising,] a golden arc [just now] emerging from the eastern horizon, turning the sea to gold as far as the eye could see. Below her, below the Old Keep, Middlesea was still swathed in darkness. There was life there,(colon) lanterns blinking in the morning gloom like fireflies as folk got an early start on the day – or a late finish to the night before. Offshore, Alexya could see the lights of ships moored in the harbour bob up and down (for me, ships don't bob, only boats do) on the swell. As she watched, their silhouettes became more and more tangible. (not technically the wrong word but not entirely apt for sight) She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath, savouring the cool morning air and the quiet before the hustling day began in truth. (I'm not at all certain of my ground here but I think this sentence [with others] is what they call passive [did this, did that] and reading shouldn't be passive. In this case it's easily remedied by substitution: "Closing her eyes and taking a long deep breath... etc)

There was a small marble-topped table on her balcony, with two ornate (try and think of another word for ornate, like curlicued perhaps or something more descriptive) iron chairs tucked underneath. Here Alexya sat, laying the book in front of her. The leather was stained a deep blue, the blue of the sky to the west, and a silver rose had been worked into the cover in silken thread. The book had been a gift from her father, almost a year before. She ran a hand over the rose, delicate, blooming, and full of life. (I'd re-arrange this last part about the book, since it seems to hold some significance for her. After "laying the book in front of her." start a new para [but definitely keep the part about the blue staining])

When you dream, her father had [said] told her, write. So she wrote, before the memories fled with the night.



The piece is simple and to the point and quite evocative. Yes I was drawn in and now I need to know what it is she's writing there.

Good work. Keep writing.

[Culhwch]

Cheers, flynx. Good advice throughout. I'm a slave to the passive voice. I just can't seem to shake it, no matter how I try. Sigh. More practice needed...

Good point about her description, it never crossed my mind. I hate stopping the narrative for a drawn-out description, as that usually kills the pace quick sticks, so I'm fond of dropping snippets in here and there. I'd say the fact that it is so short contributed - I just never got 'round to it....

[Kitera]

Hello,

You have painted a good scene here and its more show than tell, which is good. The pace was fine and it flowed well for me. I've nothing else to add that hadn't already been mentioned by Flynx(excellent crit!).

And although I would want to know more about Alexya, it is as you had said, its just a scene and this particular scene worked well more me.

Keep writing!

Kitera

[Culhwch]

Cheers, Kitera.