Beginnings!

Good morning! Grab a coffee, paper and pencil, and take a seat. Today I want to talk about how important the beginning of an MS can be. In fact, it sets the pace for the entire story.

Okay. I confess. This is also a shameless plug for my newest release Nathaniel. But I wanted to give you an example of how the beginning was first written, and how, with the help of friends, the story became something publishable. The changes aren't drastic, but make for a tighter story, more exciting story that readers might want to pick up.

Nathaniel

(first round)

Taden’s knuckles whitened on the handle of the hunting knife. Moonlight flashed along the blade. The two soldiers had stripped the prisoner of his shirt and the young man’s chest glistened with sweat in the firelight. The prisoner’s head hung heavily, arms stretched between two trees. A mop of golden curls hid his face.

Rising from his crouch, careful not to scrape against the fragrant brush concealing him, Taden skirted a clump of pine, watching his step on the carpet of needles and twigs underfoot. An owl hooted nearby, startling him.

He kept to the shadow of the trees, halting within a few paces of the prisoner and his tormenters. From his position, Taden could see the dark bruising on the prisoner’s torso. This wasn’t the first time the young man had been beaten.

Before Taden could stop him, the nearest soldier slammed a balled fist into the prisoner’s abdomen, jeering as he cried out. White rage tore through Taden; the knife a solid, reassuring weight in his hand. He couldn’t stand by and watch this needless cruelty.

With a bound [GB1] he closed the distance between him and the soldiers, heart pounding in his ears. The closest man was raising [GB2] his fist again when [GB3] Taden threw an arm around his [GB4] neck and jerked his head back, exposing the vulnerable throat. The smell of sweat and [GB5] horses and the sharp tang of fear filled Taden’s nostrils as [GB6] he drew his blade in a quick motion across the [GB7] soldier’s windpipe. Hot blood swelled across the back of Taden’s hand and he said a quick prayer for the departing soul as the soldier wheezed out his last breath, slumping heavily in his arms[GB8] .

GB1]Comma? (Style choice)

[GB2]Raised (Present tense)

[GB3]Not needed – punctuate. When and then are nasty little buggers

[GB4]His own neck? – be clear.

[GB5]Comma – two ‘ands’ in one sentence

[GB6]End of sentence. Action scene. Sentences short – even one word.

[GB7]Really more show here! The blade snagged on tendon and cartilage. The point scraped vertebrae. Slashed arteries pumped blood from the grinning wound.
Calm down, Gary, deep breaths. Take your tablets….

(GB8)Falling like a sack of (?) as Taden pushed his writhing body away.

Throwing the dead man from him, Taden started for the other, but his prey had no stomach for a fight and [GB1] ran into the trees. Ignoring a stir of pity[GB2] , Taden sprinted after him[GB3] . He couldn’t allow the man to reach his companions. With his longer stride [GB4] [GB5] Taden caught the soldier within heartbeats. Taking a tight grip on the knife, he made a dive for the soldier’s legs [GB6] and they both went down hard on the forest floor. Taden scrambled to his knees, straddling the struggling soldier. Steeling his resolve, [GB7] he plunged the knife deep into the man’s chest, the keen blade severing bone and muscle, seeking the heart.

Taden swore bitterly as the soldier’s life pumped out in [GB8] a black pool around the knife handle[GB9] , terror on the youth’s face; a boy playing at being a man. Damn them[GB10] . The Sutherlins [GB11] had no scruples about whom they sent out to fight.

M[GB12] uttering his soldier’s prayer for the wasted young life, Taden climbed to his feet, bone weary and heartsick.

Unable to bear the gaze [GB13] of the boy’s lifeless eyes, Taden left the hunting knife embedded in the soldier’s chest [GB14] and made his way [GB15] back through the silent forest towards the flickering fire and the youth bound to the [GB16] trees.

[GB1]The rest of this sentence shows that

[GB2]Not needed

[GB3]‘Taden sprinted.’ Is the whole sentence. Show us some dead leaves flying.

[GB4]Comma?

[GB5]In his fury?

[GB6]Thinking about it – that’s a really hard manouever without stabbing yourself in the eye. I would go for a simple plunge into his back. Taden angling the point down to hook into ribs, use his body weight to pull the bloke down and them crash the dagger two-handed through his skull. Oh dear. I think I need a drink.

[GB7]A bit too many slow words for a quick scene

[GB8]Not needed

[GB9]Into the trees! This is a heart – you are not squeezing a lemon.

[GB10]That is so good

[GB11]New para.

[GB12]Quiet now. Waiting for shouts. The soft flick of a twig… nothing. Taden breathed out and said a soldier’s….

[GB13]Tricky – dead people do not gaze

[GB14]No one leaves a knife

[GB15]No, he skirted branches, eased twigs in the leaf mould aside, until

[GB16]Collapsed between his bonds

* * * *
Hello from Gary. Wow! Give yourself a pat on the back. Sit down, take a breath and pour a big whiskey.
I hope (if ever you opt to be a beta reader for me) that I will never be able to satisfy you. I want you to get so nit-picky that even the nits are nit-free.
There are still a couple of areas that need show – I’ve made suggestions. Please take them in spirit – Taden doesn’t have chew peoples’ heart out with his bare teeth (I jest).
We are looking at style here – this is already good writing and a good story. Thus the critique becomes so much more subjective (and; therefore, more easily ignored).
I’ve done the first three pages. I can do more (please ask – no probs) but I think you’ll get the picture.
And keep action sentences short.
Taden leapt. Dagger. Heart. Blood splashes in his eyes. Hot. Sticky. The soldier sucks a breath through the gaping wound. Blood and muscle into his lungs. Death.
* * * *

Nathaniel(finished)

Taden edged closer to the men in the clearing, careful not to snag his cloak on the fragrant scrub brush concealing him. The two Sutherlin soldiers had stripped their captive of his shirt and his chest glistened with sweat in the firelight. His head hung heavily, arms stretched between two trees. A mop of chestnut curls hid his face. Taden’s knuckles whitened on the hunting knife in his hand as a soldier struck the prisoner in the face, making him cry out. Taden could see the dark bruising on his torso. This wasn’t the first time he had been beaten.

The second man slammed a balled fist into the prisoner’s abdomen and laughed at his grunt of pain. It was too much. Maybe he was being a fool for interfering, but he couldn’t stand by and watch the needless cruelty. He eased from hiding and silently closed the distance between him and the soldiers.
The closest man was raising his fist again when Taden reached him. He threw an arm around the soldier’s neck and jerked, exposing the vulnerable throat. The smell of sweat and fear filled his nostrils as he drew his blade in a quick motion across the knotty windpipe. Hot blood spilled over the back of his hand. The soldier wheezed and slumped heavily in his arms.

Taden threw the dead man from himself and started for the other, but his prey had no stomach for a fight and ran into the trees. Taden sprinted after him. He couldn’t allow the man to reach his companions. He caught the soldier within heartbeats with his longer stride and plunged the knife into the man’s back with both hands. Thrown off balance, they both went down hard on the forest floor. Taden scrambled to his knees and straddled the screaming soldier. He jerked the knife free and thrust it again into the blood soaked uniform. The keen blade severed bone and muscle, seeking the heart.

The soldier’s life pumped out around the knife handle and Taden swore bitterly, witness to the terror on the face pressed into the dirt. A boy playing at being a man. “Damn them,” he fumed. The Sutherlins had no scruples about whom they sent out to fight.

He tucked a blond curl of hair behind the boy’s ear as he muttered his soldier’s prayer, stirred to sadness for the one in the young man’s life who would never have the pleasure of that small intimacy again. Taden climbed to his feet, bone weary and heartsick, and tugged the hunting knife from the soldier’s back. A twig snapped as he wiped it clean in the dirt, making his heart pound, but it was only the scurry of a small animal in the brush. He took a last look at the dead soldier then made his way back through the moonlit forest towards the flickering fire and the young man bound to the trees.

The prisoner had his feet planted apart, knees locked to keep from sagging against the bindings, but blood slicked his wrists and ran down his forearms from where the ropes bit into the skin. His head was lowered and Taden wondered if his strength had given out.

“Hello? Don’t be afraid,” he said carefully. “I come without enmity.”

The prisoner lifted his head and Taden was caught in the gaze of the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, clear green with a starburst of gold at the pupils, amazing eyes that held him confused and thrilling. The look brushed against the lonely spot in his heart he kept deeply buried. Then the man blinked and Taden felt released, as if he’d been spellbound. His heart lurched at the exhaustion in the oval face.

Nathaniel
Etopia Press

March 2, 2012

The prisoner lifts his head and Taden is caught in the gaze of the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen; amazing eyes that hold him confused and thrilling. From the moment Taden rescues Nathaniel from the Sutherlin soldiers’ torture, he feels responsible for the youth. The Sutherlins have invaded the beautiful Tahon Valley, and as Taden secrets Nathaniel from their reach, he finds himself drawn inexplicably to the young man. He protects Nathaniel not only from the Sutherlins but from his own mistrustful people, who don’t understand Nathaniel’s powers and believe him to be a witch. Will Taden convince Nathaniel to stay with him and live under his protection, or will the youth sail home and leave Taden in loneliness?