The Writing Thread

It depends on the person writing, and the music. Notice how most of the music people mentioned was ambient music, meaning instrumental, no lyrics, background noise.
That being said I'm too much of a dickweed to do both myself. I use music as inspiration prior to writing rather than to set the mood while I'm writing (when I actually do write anyway).

Yeah, I used to listen to music all the time when I was writing, at least until I noticed the cross-contamination - I got around the lyric problem by listening to film scores, or angry Scandinavian drug addicts screaming incomprehensible metal gibberish. Doesn't fix the next problem tho:

So don't listen to music with lyrics, retard.

Here's a little experiment for you. Play your ambient music, pick up a book with admirable syntax, and try to recite the text out loud. Try to inject emotion and maintain the lyrical flow of the text. Poetry, Shakespeare, Thomas Harris, idgaf, see how long it takes before you trip over your own tongue, or you are forced to add emphasis where there is none. And don't give me shit about "prose dont have no rhythm", because that's either bullshit or your syntax sucks. Retard.

Thanks kimosabe, I’m gonna take this lovely information and wipe myself with it, not everyone is you and your puritanical view is what pushes people away from writing.

Actually, I knew I'd get shit for even suggesting people need to switch off the autopilot and engage their fucking brain.
 
Yeah, I used to listen to music all the time when I was writing, at least until I noticed the cross-contamination - I got around the lyric problem by listening to film scores, or angry Scandinavian drug addicts screaming incomprehensible metal gibberish. Doesn't fix the next problem tho:

Here's a little experiment for you. Play your ambient music, pick up a book with admirable syntax, and try to recite the text out loud. Try to inject emotion and maintain the lyrical flow of the text. Poetry, Shakespeare, Thomas Harris, idgaf, see how long it takes before you trip over your own tongue, or you are forced to add emphasis where there is none. And don't give me shit about "prose dont have no rhythm", because that's either bullshit or your syntax sucks. Retard.
Some people are just built different.
 
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Hello, sorry I failed to post. Jackalopes is going strong. We right now have over 20 stories written in the project.

I promised to post my july story, then failed to archive it here. I apologize for making this promise and failing to fulfill it when I should have. I do not have an excuse.

The July prompt was
"Depict a hero’s journey with its requisite elements"
I would appreciate feedback on this story because I quite liked it.

Here is my August story with our prompt
"Depict an unbeliever observing a knight of faith "
This story was inspired by Mr based proposing to his top prostitute behind bars as depicted in the new yorker article about him, check the world of tshirts thread for what im talking about.

and also here is my September story with the prompt
"write a story about the birth of a new paradigm"
Half of all men in overseas voyages in the 17th century died of scurvy, and it killed 125k men for Britain in the seven years war, more than anything else. I found this interesting.

I wrote these on time but failed to archive them here, so here they are. Jackalopes continues and we are working on a website where people can make anonymous comments. Then I won't have to archive.

If I can post the other stories from jackalopes should I make a new thread for this project? I ask because making new threads on forums like this can be impolite, as well as I wish to avoid spamming this thread.
 

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I am thinking about makin a story based on The dream-quest of Unknown Kadath, following a young Randolph Carter.
Planning to make his life slowly go to shit as he slowly prefers the dreamscape over his shitty life in his plane of existence and meeting Nyarlathotep promising a way to fully merge himself into the dreamscape by using a relic called "The Silver Key"

Got most things planned out, Might share a chapter here.
Apologies for the double post,
but I just wanted to say, these connected stories are my personal favorite from HP Lovecraft after reading him. Even more than the other "weird fiction" stuff. My favorite story from him is the Silver Key and the other randolph carter stuff. I would love to read your continuation! Set a weekly or monthly goal and stick to it.
@Scream Aim Fire Are there any settings or plot ideas that you want to write, but feel as though you can't?
Science fiction. I have seen/read most of the setting but so much of it is opposed to my own view of the future that it is hard. Also writing technically, convincingly and authentically is difficult. My deficiency is obviously a lack of practice, which can only be solved by trying even if its bad. I promise one of these jackalopes stories will be sci fi so I can learn.
 
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Actually, I knew I'd get shit for even suggesting people need to switch off the autopilot and engage their fucking brain.
Personally, I don't think you're entirely wrong, but the anger you're seeing comes from the fact that the practical reality most people deal with when trying to write in the world we currently live in clashes with the ideal circumstances you're attempting to create for yourself. Perfectionism is ultimately a childish emotional crutch through which we vainly seek internal validation to the detriment of being willing to cope with reality as it exists.
 
If I can post the other stories from jackalopes should I make a new thread for this project? I ask because making new threads on forums like this can be impolite, as well as I wish to avoid spamming this thread.
I'd say don't worry about etiquette so much and just make a separate thread for it, if only to properly explain the project and its overall purpose to those of us who don't know or forgot.
 
I'm working on chapter 8 of my book now after getting back feedback from my beta reader for 7. Got 7 edited and sent back. Had a massive burst on Sunday for ch8. Its turning out pretty good.

Quite large though. Though I don't see that as a bad thing. It's the chapter that's setting up the rest of the book and laying out the background for how the world turned out how it did. It's doing a lot and I don't want to interrupt it with a chapter break.
 
comic bullshit but basically due to complaints of anons for my ESL i decided that best way to write is in native and then do translation in English adjusting thing or two here and there.
Basically i got 3 pages fully done and im re doing a bit of dialouge so it can flow better
here is what i wrote now, im not in any means capable writer. I barely scrap by
>Eons ago while universe wa prospering in peace there was an empire whose only goal was to turn off every light in the universe and cover it with it's darkness and evil. Planet to planet, leaving nothing but barren wasteland where only screams and cries echoed through the entire cosmos from the doomed planet. Each fight ended in bigger losses and each losss in even bigger tragedy"

>"Their weaponry unbeatable"

>Their armies endless"

>"Like a black hole, mindless, formless, sucking up everything in it's way. Soon enough the whole universe through sadness, despair, anger, fear would utter their name. Every doubter, everyone who thought of it as a myth, every one who believed they'd escaped would eventually bathe in their own tears and blood of those they spilled along their conquest for powert. They were the.."

>Horror

>Terrors

>"On the very end of the universe where plain darkness endlessly spans across empty space there are mosters who reside that god himself couldn't love. If you had each eyeball from every human from earth you still couldn't count all those tentacles, eyes, arms, teeth hanging out. It's like mess of random parts and several monsters formed into a planet forver wandering around endless landscape but above them all lays their leader, Cyclonus. Blood thirsty yet clever.His hunger for conquest is only rivaled by his thirst for power"

>"But universe wouldn't go out without a fight. 8 mighty heroes blessed by the powers of the old gods desitned to fight in a war for fate of the entire universe

>"Battle after battle and finally came the last comfortation bettween two biggest forces in the universe. 2 biggest forces who used to rule over Earth, lizzards versus bugs. 2 leaders clash their swords and only 2 leaders left alone on the battlefield scrapping by with their limp bodies into vastness of dead battlefield.
>"One to his victory"
>"Other to his doom"

I couldn't find cooler name so i changed to horror terrors. Cyclopsids sounded too generic
[\SPOILER]
 
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Hello, sorry I failed to post. Jackalopes is going strong. We right now have over 20 stories written in the project.

I promised to post my july story, then failed to archive it here. I apologize for making this promise and failing to fulfill it when I should have. I do not have an excuse.

The July prompt was
"Depict a hero’s journey with its requisite elements"
I would appreciate feedback on this story because I quite liked it.

Here is my August story with our prompt
"Depict an unbeliever observing a knight of faith "
This story was inspired by Mr based proposing to his top prostitute behind bars as depicted in the new yorker article about him, check the world of tshirts thread for what im talking about.

and also here is my September story with the prompt
"write a story about the birth of a new paradigm"
Half of all men in overseas voyages in the 17th century died of scurvy, and it killed 125k men for Britain in the seven years war, more than anything else. I found this interesting.

I wrote these on time but failed to archive them here, so here they are. Jackalopes continues and we are working on a website where people can make anonymous comments. Then I won't have to archive.

If I can post the other stories from jackalopes should I make a new thread for this project? I ask because making new threads on forums like this can be impolite, as well as I wish to avoid spamming this thread.
I don't know anything about this Jackalopes project, would you still like for me to critique it or wait for the Jackalopes thread?

@Viper the rappah I DM'ed you your critique
 
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I'm not usually in the habit of writing, but I want to write a story for a pet project and I'm having issues coming up with a plot. The main isue is I don't have a story I want to tell as much as I have characters I want to write about. I've made a couple of characters and a world for them to live in, wrote a sheet with their personalities, powers and relationships, but I'm struggling to come up with a good story for them. My main document has been a revolving door of plots, it's like worldbuilder's disease but with characters instead of the world.

Listening to lyrics, even with only half an ear, will affect your prose. It has a bleed-through effect, it subliminally affects your word choice, syntax, and poetic metre. You will end up aping the cadence and rhythms you are hearing in the music: it's the intellectual equivalent of rubbing your head and patting your belly at the same time.
I remember reading how artists who draw in silence perform better than artists who listen to music, even those who enjoy the music they're listening to, precisely because even good music splits your attention and forces your brain to multitask.
At the same time, as someone who lives in a very loud area, I'll take music over the constant sounds of traffic, dogs, and Brazilians any day. It's the lesser of two evils.
 
This might be a really basic question, but how do you guys actually write? I'm in no short supply of ideas or characters, but the moment I sit down and start writing scenes I become extremely bored by what I'm writing. Either it meanders, or it goes by too quickly, or its just pointless but I need to connect two scenes. I have a very hard time translating premises, characters, outlines into actual written prose.
 
This might be a really basic question, but how do you guys actually write? I'm in no short supply of ideas or characters, but the moment I sit down and start writing scenes I become extremely bored by what I'm writing. Either it meanders, or it goes by too quickly, or its just pointless but I need to connect two scenes. I have a very hard time translating premises, characters, outlines into actual written prose.
I’m using things I’ve actually done as the basis, so I write first-person, flow of consciousness style, using exaggeration and memory, hand in hand to create my world.
 
This might be a really basic question, but how do you guys actually write? I'm in no short supply of ideas or characters, but the moment I sit down and start writing scenes I become extremely bored by what I'm writing. Either it meanders, or it goes by too quickly, or its just pointless but I need to connect two scenes. I have a very hard time translating premises, characters, outlines into actual written prose.
If outlines are your style then it helps to break it down into smaller and more specific details. Maybe you could break it down again and again until your outline is expanded into the things that happen, dialogue, details of note, etc., then at that point you can just change up the phrasing and it's a full scene.

Don't think too much into pacing especially on the first draft, have your goal be just to get words on the page. After the basic stuff is written down, keep it in your head, think about it when you're not writing, then change as needed. Also don't write any sections that you think are pointless but necessary. You probably won't enjoy writing it in the slightest, which means the audience probably won't enjoy reading it. Put that mental energy towards thinking of fun ways to skip past the stuff you don't want to do.

If you're super stumped, try and write stuff that could be helpful & fun for you but that the audience may not ever see. How would X character react to a surprise party, what is in Y character's handbag, what does Z's favorite memory look like, etc.
 
>me after finishing chapter 8 in a week
>longest chapter in the book
>finished it in a fit of madness and inspiration
gr5ftblmfxwa1.jpg
I used to do this all the time as a kid. Now its a achievement it feels like. Where has the time gone?
 
This might be a really basic question, but how do you guys actually write? I'm in no short supply of ideas or characters, but the moment I sit down and start writing scenes I become extremely bored by what I'm writing. Either it meanders, or it goes by too quickly, or its just pointless but I need to connect two scenes. I have a very hard time translating premises, characters, outlines into actual written prose.
That seems like more of a confidence issue than a writing issue and the only real solution is to practice as much as you can until you write at least a couple of things you actually like looking at.
 
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I don't know anything about this Jackalopes project, would you still like for me to critique it or wait for the Jackalopes thread?
Hello there, Jackalopes is a group writing society, and I plan to post the thread once the website is done so comments can be posted on the site and for archival of our stories in more places.

As far as feedback on my stories, I will accept any feedback from anyone who reads them.
 
I'm not usually in the habit of writing, but I want to write a story for a pet project and I'm having issues coming up with a plot. The main isue is I don't have a story I want to tell as much as I have characters I want to write about. I've made a couple of characters and a world for them to live in, wrote a sheet with their personalities, powers and relationships, but I'm struggling to come up with a good story for them. My main document has been a revolving door of plots, it's like worldbuilder's disease but with characters instead of the world
Dude, are you me? I have this exact same issue. I come up with characters that I think will be compelling but flounder when it comes time to give them a narrative to pursue.

The closest thing I have come up with to resolve this issue is to look at the connective tissue that my characters have to the world and try to spin a plot out from those threads. I know Character A has connections to this faction, or has this job, what would happen if I sent an antagonist in to disturb their status quo and force them to adapt to the new situation?

I will freely admit that this usually results in fairly basic and somewhat cliche plotlines. Revenge for the murder of a loved one, simple rags to riches storylines, narratives where the hero has to learn their new abilities and overcome new challenges, a job or mercenary contract that balloons out of control, etc;

But a basic plot is better than none at all, no? If all else fails, you can also steal a plot from another work you like and retrofit it to your characters, and the inner workings of the narrative should ideally be altered enough by that simple addition to avoid plagiarism.

Just my two cents, since we seem to have similar foibles
 
But a basic plot is better than none at all, no?
Not necessarily. The author I draw the most inspiration from is John Hawkes and he had this idea that you can shave away every element of storytelling you're conditioned to think is necessary (characters, plot, themes, etc.) to arrive at a more pure and complete vision of what you're trying to convey. Your mileage will obviously vary with how far you want to take that sort of thing, but I feel like I understand what he was getting at with that (admittedly radical if not outright heretical) approach to writing.
 
Babe it's Sunday, time to post part of the story so I can get some feedback!

I feel confident about the first chapter/first half of chapter one (haven't decided if I'm going to split it or not), so I'm posting the next section.

After about a half hour of running down the packed dirt, Josh was finally calm enough to register his surroundings. He stepped on the last step that opened up to a room.

In the center was a large, shallow bowl that had been used for a large fire.

A teardrop-shaped rune was often repeated on the walls, and Josh struggled to figure out what it could be until it clicked. It wasn’t a rune that he’d forgotten about, but in fact the jewel that the Wish Maiden had been holding in the first room!

His gut churned in nervousness. There had been nothing in the texts or rumors he’d heard speaking of a jewel, and since the Wish Maiden was in the very next room, it was important he figure it out.

His eyes scoured over every surface of the walls around him.

They were the writings of the various wishes that the Wish Maiden had been able to grant. They also detailed what one would need to say to invoke her power.

Like the room that he had fought Örvar in, there were large statues standing against all but two of the walls, runes behind them detailing what they were for.

There were seven scenes total, each of them featuring a different amount of statues.

The wall straight ahead of him featured the Wish Maiden sitting on a throne, a crown atop her head. Next to her, standing close with his hand on the throne, was a tall man. Tall for humans, anyway, as the man was nearly eye-level with Josh.

Unlike the statues in the previous two rooms, these were less lively in their depiction. Stiffer, not as dynamic.

Her being on a throne was new information. All the stuff he’d learned about her made it adamant that she was no equal to the Jarl, and instead was subservient to the Al-Seidr.

On the other walls, with the exceptions of the one leading to the hallway to the Wish Maiden and the one that lead to the hallway back up, there were carved reliefs in the wall. Men and women who were giving a man who looked like the one who stood beside the Wish Maiden (which meant that he was the Wish Maiden’s Emissary) baskets full of fruit, wheat, or fur.

Next to them other men and women were holding up their gains they had earned from trading with the Wish Maiden. Runes were written beside them in High Human, detailing what they had gained.

Josh was very out of practice when it came to reading High Human, but considering that it might give him some information to ensure that he’d get his wish, he put in the effort.

“Í skiptum fyrir tíu fullt af hveiti var vei… veikindi barnsins míns læknað,” he slowly sounded aloud. In exchange for ten bushels of wheat, my baby’s illness was cured.

There was one wall that described the process of how the Wish Maiden granted her wishes. Josh devoured the information.

“Ljós Kamana Kanyalunnar lét hjarta hennar ljóma og fór síðan í hendurnar á henni. Með glóandi höndum sínum myndi hún teygja sig og blessa hana,” he read. The light of the Wish Maiden made her heart glow, and then traveled to her hands. With her glowing hands, she would reach out and give her benediction.

When he got to the end, he ground his teeth in frustration. There wasn’t a single mention of the stupid jewel!

There was a statue backed up to all but one of the eight walls, covered even more in moss than the ones before.

The statues were simpler, less detailed, but he could still understand what they were. They were less smooth, the marks on the rocks from the tools more obvious.

Behind them were various mosaics. Like the statues, they were simpler, the individual stones they were composed of larger. Josh stared as he took in depictions of the wish maiden. One was of her descending to the earth, a pair of wings on her back. On the ground was a group of men, their arms outstretched to her.

Josh stared at the one with her having a pair of wings, puzzled. Other than her power to grant wishes, he had believed that she was just an ordinary woman with spiritual powers. Was she truly a bird wekufe? But then how was she able to blast the wekufe with spiritual power? He looked at the other mosaics, but they didn’t depict her with avian features. Only this one. The others showed her as a normal human, but he couldn’t deny how they constantly had avian references and visual motifs around her. He thought back to the earlier mosaics, and realized that they were there as well.

Growling to himself, he put it aside and chalked it up to her people’s reverence for birds. The human religions in this area worshipped them, so it would make sense that they would give her bird features as well.

On the opposite wall of the mosaic where the Wish Maiden descended to the earth, there was another mosaic. The Wish Maiden sat on a large throne. The stones that made up the throne were made of the clear calcite, making her look like she was sitting on air. The men prostrated themselves in front of her, with some of them handing over various valuables to another man who stood close to the Wish Maiden.

The simplistic design made it difficult for Josh to figure it out, but from the stories he had researched before he arrived allowed him to know what was going on. The men were handing over the valuables to the Wish Maiden’s Emissary, who would tell the Wish Maiden whether the gift was valuable enough.

Josh placed his hand on the satchel that was looped around his neck. Still got it. The ridges of the dragon scale that Josh had spent a better half of a year hunting down pressed against his hand. The stories all told of the wish maiden asking for some price in return for the wish, and it was always something extremely valuable. On the walls, he could see mosaics of men giving her bushels of wheat, food, and reams of clothing.

Josh smirked to himself. Those peasants probably could only give her food, but nothing will compare with the dragon scale I’m giving her. She’ll have to grant my wish.

Sure, there were rules of what she could grant. She wasn’t allowed to violate the laws written by the gods. She couldn’t send a soul across the Himnavegur, the bridge between this world and the next, and she couldn’t bring one back across it either once it had passed. But Josh didn’t care. His wish was one that she would definitely be able to grant.

He pressed a hand against his bag again. They better not say no, he thought. There’s no way they can say that this isn’t worthy enough of a payment!

With that in mind, he turned away and kept walking, entering the gap between the Wish Maiden and the man, and the wekufe. Every second he spent that wasn’t walking to her was a waste of time, as he was here for something much better than looking at old rocks.

His ears twitched when he felt the air pressure change. How deep do I need to go? If he went any deeper he’d end up in the domain of the Old Wekufe. When he was about to seriously consider whether to turn back or not, wish or no, he saw the end of the staircase.

He saw the remains of an old and elaborate archway, and his eyes lit up. Fucking finally! As he kept walking, though, he realized that something was wrong. He sniffed. I only smell one person, he thought, his mouth curling down in consternation. And a sword. Wasn’t there supposed to be a whole ceremony thing? He could smell old, rotting fabric, but certainly not what he’d been expecting.

The dust he was smelling was old, and there were no fresh scents. He didn’t smell death, though, so after another few sniffs to make sure there wasn’t any danger, he forged ahead.

The reason for the odd scents revealed itself when he reached the archway. His mouth dropped open in shock, his eyes wide, as his nose worked furiously to verify that what he was seeing was real.

Instead of a woman sitting on a throne, like the carvings on the walls had shown, a woman was lying on a stone platform in the middle of the room, a sword pierced into her chest. And not just any woman, but the Wish Maiden herself!

His eyes and nose furiously worked as he tried to comprehend that she was, in fact, not dead. She smelled like she didn’t even have the sword in her chest. What the fuck is going on?

He hesitantly walked closer, his ears working overtime to make sure this wasn’t some sort of trap. After taking small, careful steps, tensing to run away any moment it seemed like something would go awry, he was right next to the woman.

She looked almost exactly like she had in the carvings he had seen earlier. He was stunned, as he had believed that the statues and mosaics were depicting her in an idealized fashion. Instead, though, they had been very accurate. She truly was beautiful, her body just as delicate and well-proportioned as the statue had depicted her as. What even the colorful mosaics had failed to convey, though, was how vivid and bright her clothing was. The dress that had seemed like a flame in the carvings now was clearly a bonfire. Her long sleeves and high collar were covered in a fairly translucent white fabric, but at her chest where there was an embroidered nine-pointed sun, the material became thicker and changed colors. Starting from yellow, it then shifted to an under-layer that was orange, and then finally red. Peeking from the tip of the red edge was a pair of sandal-clad feet. Josh wrinkled his nose at the look of her shoes. No one had worn shoes like that since he was a pup.

Her dark brown hair was tied in intricate braids. Josh knew they had meaning, but it had been so long since he had been taught their meanings that he came up blank. The lessons had only been rudimentary, meant to let him know the status of who he was talking with.

Even sealed, he could feel the woman’s spiritual aura, and it felt like she was radiating light herself.

The stone platform she was lying on had runes carved into their sides.

Josh looked around, trying to figure out what to do.

The wall that didn’t have a statue was what Josh knew to be the last set of stairs. On each side of the entrance was a carving, standing out from the other images that were mosaics made from colored rocks. On his left was the Wish Maiden, being defended by a human man wielding a sword. The other side was a horde of monstrous wekufe, facing the couple with desire on their faces.

The Wish Maiden was displayed differently than before, even taking into account the ones giving her avian features. Now, she had the sun in her hands, her entire body and hands protective over it. Defending her was a human man. The large sword was enormous, nearly the size of him, and was held as if prepared to swing at the crowd.

Josh was confused. The Wish Maiden had always been seen as powerful, like the carvings and images he had seen before he had fought the snake. But now there was a man who had to protect her from the wekufe?

Speaking of them, Josh inwardly snarled at how his kind were depicted. Monstrous creatures that were nothing more than simple spirits, little more than masses of flesh, eyes, and fur. It was such a far cry from the vibrantly-colored kittiwake birds who lived in the southwest wetlands, or the caring water wekufe in the Tiorvijarja Hot Springs, that even half-breed Josh was insulted.

Not only were most wekufe more than that, it was an insult to say that all wekufe were merely bloodthirsty creatures out to kill humans. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to him, though, as it certainly reflected the way humans treated him when they encountered his pack. Josh purposefully refused to think about how they acted when they realized that he was a half-breed, turning his eyes back to the human male and the Wish Maiden.

Josh had been alone for a while, almost a half-century now. But he didn’t care, as he didn’t need anyone. Fuck his pack. He was free now, no longer having to serve as stupid protectors of humanity,

Taking in the man’s features, Josh felt his stomach turn. The two of them looked so similar, and with the exception of his wolf ears they could’ve been brothers. He sneered at the thought.

He looked back at the woman on the pedestal. She wasn’t dead, as she smelled like any other woman (human at that, despite how they portrayed her as an avian wekufe), and she was still breathing. He held his hands out, to shake her shoulders and wake her up, but pulled them back quickly when he found them starting to pull towards the sword.

He had been ignoring it before, but the action forced him to actually look at the sword. It was a long, two-handed sword, and Josh’s mouth dropped again in shock when he saw the eight-pointed circle engraved on the hilt. The fucking Aegisjmalr? Why the fuck was the symbol of protection and defense on a sword that was pierced into this woman’s belly?

With a growl, he stood firm. I want my fucking wish, dammit. Josh leaned down and shook the woman’s shoulders.

No response.

His brows furrowing, he shook them again, ignoring her soft skin that was easily felt through the thin fabric. After a third time, he was forced to admit that it wouldn’t work.

Josh stared at the woman’s lips. Would he have to kiss her? He had overheard his mother whisper stories to the young girls about a handsome man who had awoken his true love with a kiss, but he didn’t want to. Yeah, she was pretty (as the tightening of his pants could attest), but if she found out that a half-wekufe had kissed her, even a fucking dragon’s scale wouldn’t be payment enough for his wish.

With a jerk, he pulled his hands back, realizing that during his pondering his hands had wandered over to the sword. Josh shook his head, chills running down his spine. I ain’t touchin that thing. It radiated magic, and the wolf inside of him howled and whined at the power it held. He would surely fry if he tried. He wasn’t no one’s puppet either, and the fact that something was trying to get him to touch the sword made him even more determined to not.

But how do I wake her, then? The idea of turning back now was ludicrous. He had spent multiple winters getting the scale and tracking her down, and to leave when he was literally right in front of her would be basically giving up. And he ain’t no quitter!

He shook her shoulders one last time. When it didn’t wake her, Josh let out an aggravated sigh. “Fine!” he barked out. “I’ll do it!” He didn’t know who he was talking to, but it felt good to give voice to his frustrations anyway.

God damn it all to hell!

He reached out, and with a clawed hand grasped the sword. The instant the grasp was complete, a preternatural wind blew past Josh, causing his hair to rise.

JÁ. VERĐUR VERNDARI FYRIR DÓTTUR MÍNA. ÉG VEL ÞIG.

YES. A WORTHY PROTECTOR FOR MY DAUGHTER. I CHOOSE YOU.


The voice was deafening, coming from everywhere and nowhere. Josh jolted at the sound, his head turning every which way to find the source. In the process, though, he shifted his arm, and without a sound the sword was pulled out.

Josh’s eyes flew back to the woman, stumbling on his feet. The fuck? Not only was his head still swimming from the voice, but the wound in the woman’s stomach was bloodless. Before his eyes, the skin sealed itself shut, not even leaving a scar.

How was this possible? The woman was completely human, so that shouldn’t have happened. He watched in shock as soon the only evidence of the sword was the tear in her dress.

His nose twitched as he tried to make sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. They weren’t, but before he could do anything else the woman let out a feminine groan, her eyes flickering open to reveal orbs of blue-gray.

I had a fair amount of struggle working on it after the very rough first draft of this portion/integrating the world-building in this, and when I tried to sit down and work on it I ended up working on the upcoming political intrigue instead. So apologies for the poor quality, but it has reached a point where I need another pair of eyes on it.

Questions that I'd like answered, but don't have to be:

1. How was the pacing? Did it feel like info-dumping, or did it at least feel like there was a purpose behind all the information given to the reader via Josh?
2. I tried to balance between giving the reader enough information to show what the Maiden looked like, while also being realistic in what a young guy would notice when looking at a woman. Did I succeed in this?
3. Were you able to clearly visualize the surroundings of Josh wherever he went?
 
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