WWT 1 - Writers Forum

MoonDust · 01-09-2008, 10:26 PM

(I've just started writing this within the last couple days, and am only on page four. I'm iffy about this one, not sure how to go about it really. So Im going to post a couple paragraphs and see how you guys think of it. Keep in mind, I plan on tweaking it and all, this is just an extreme rough draft. I'm sort of toying with it. )

WWT 1. World War Terrors 1.

Chapter One (not all of it, obviously)

The sound of gun fires was an average thing now a days. The sound of bickering Korean men stung through the bitterly cold air. The night time air was cold, and blistering. Winter seemed to be falling quicker and quicker. Different preparations were being made by the soldiers. Mossy, green eyes stared out into the city streets, just outside of Ashville, NC. A man, rather, a teen sat in the shrubs. His breath cold, lungs hurting from the run. The thrill of the run had pumped his adrenaline; the dread of death propelled it further. His heart hammered in his chest, a beating clock, a bomb. It felt like it threatened to explode at any second. Cracked, dry lips opened slightly, taking in as much air that was needed. “Close one.” The man muttered. The only survivor that he knew of right now. Keenan Sinclair. The nineteen year old laid flat on his belly so the soldiers couldn’t see him. His camouflage pants and green shirt made him blend in with the surroundings. His face caked with mud, sweat, and blood. All of which seemed natural to him now.

Behind him, the bushes rattled, causing him to crane his head around and lean on an elbow, a switch blade in his hand. Killing was a natural instinct to him, something that kept him going. Three months he’s been on his own, so far he’s been able to survive. He was not about to let all his struggles go down the drain. His breathing controlled, steady, Keenan slowly crept up. The sound of bullets whizzing by him, a good amount of distance away was a small scuffle between Korean’s. Steady. His heart beat rang in his ears. Focus. He slowly crept on his belly, arms sliding him foreword. The forest was dead silent, no longer did birds and other animals sing happily into the wake of day. They were silent. So eerie that it could disturb the dead. Slowly he stood, the protective cover of the woods covering him. With his trusty switch blade, he slowly stepped foreword. The sound was too light to be a human, which meant it was an animal. Animal was food, and thus survival. He needed it. It was essential. Sweat brewed on his brow, despite the cold climate right now. A small brown squirrel made a bee line into the tree. Completely too fast for Keenan.

He stood, staring dumbfounded into the tree. Did he make a lot of noise? He thought he was being quiet. Rubbing his brow to free it from sweat, he put the switchblade back into the back pocket of his US military style camie pants. He softly padded up the mountain slope. Trying to get back to the small camp that he had. The forest was wet, a couple days prior it had rained cats and dogs. Much to his dismay. Brows drawn together, Keenan walked up, stepping over branches, humming some sort of tune he managed to catch on a AM frequency a few days before. Slowly, he grabbed a thin stick and began to tap it at his side, creating a small rhythm as he did so. A scowl was worn tightly on his face, eyes down cast while he gathered his thoughts. How long has it been? Would he find his parents? His chest tightened, Keenan’s own thought making his heart throb painfully slow. Finally, pushing a few branches from his face, he came along his camping spot. The only thing he could make due with. No military men tread over this way. After all, who could survive in the mountain side? They were dense in their way of thinking. But not too dense. After all, he needed supplies. He took them in the stealthy cover of night. And rarely. Shaggy, jet black hair hung in his face while he set upon his camp, a hand rubbing the stubble that developed on his chin within the last couple of days.

lordofhats · 01-09-2008, 10:54 PM

Your prologue completely turned me off. When I want to read a post-apocalyptic story I want the apocalypse to be believable. I don't want you to feel bad but your scinario makes no sense, not for 22 years from now.

How are China and the Middle East going to fight a war? If China gets into any wars it won't be with the middle east.

How is South Korea's leader threatening war like the Iraq War? Also, are you sure you don't mean North Korea? Its highly unlikely South Korea would start a war in the near future. If any war involving them takes place we can assume it'll be an invasion from the North.

My other problem is your choice of countries that invade the US.

France? France has not had a successful large scale military action since Napoleon. Moreso if the world excluding the US really did go to war France would have bigger problems than a nation that wasn't involved.

Iraq? Iraq never had and probably never will have the capacity to invade the US by 2030? No way. It makes no sense. If anything I wouldn't be surprised if in 2030 we're still there in some shape or form. WWII ended in 1945 but we still have US bases in Germany.

Again South Korea. They're even less likely to invade us than the other two above countries.

Also even if the US was invaded in an election year we still have a president who is running the country during the election. Should the US be invaded during the election it stands to reason a state of emergency would ensue and the election would be suspended until the state of emergency ended.

If the your election scinario did somehow happen, no General in the US military is dumb enough to take the army overseas. I doubt the soldiers would even be willing to go if he was. Should the Federal Government fail the US military institues marshall law and starts fighting on the home front. Also no one general can take 60% of the troops overseas. According to how the US Military is organized that's impossible.

I'm sorry but you really need a much more convincing end of the world. I love end of the world stories as much as the next guy but yours makes no sense. Not for 2030. I highly suggest coming up with a better line of events.

MoonDust · 01-09-2008, 11:02 PM

Actually Im going to explain it more, as I go, have "keenan" sort of explain it as you go. No one is teaming up with anyone, it's the fact that everyone is attacking eachother that caused others to move in on other countries. Not just the solitary country being able to reign over one official area. And thats why Im playing with it, but I knew it was confusing/illogical thats why I said this is an extreme first draft. I just jotted down alot, it's not going to be the "final countries" their. And I understand what you mean. In any case I'm still coming up with it, it's only my first couple days of brain storming/ect. : ) Thank's for your input : ) When my draft is summed up I'll make sure to have a more sturdy background to it.

MoonDust · 01-09-2008, 11:16 PM

actually aside from the prologue and background that Im obviously going to work on, I really just wanted to know about the three paragraphs below it. Im not even sure if Im going to continue on with it because I cant seem to capture the mood of the character. Or explain it, rather. Just wondering about the actual writing.

lordofhats · 01-09-2008, 11:38 PM

I apologize Moondust. I'll now give you what suggestions I cna about how I think the story could be made better.

The sound of gun fires was an average thing now a days. The sound of bickering Korean men stung through the bitterly cold air. The night time air was cold, and blistering [you've stated the same thing twice here]. Winter seemed to be falling quicker and quicker [I think this is poor wording. Try a phrase that doesn't reuse a word twice. "Winter seemed to come sooner than it used to." for example.]. Different preparations were being made by the soldiers. Mossy, green eyes stared out into the city streets, just outside of Ashville, NC. A man, rather, a teen sat in the shrubs. His breath cold, lungs hurting from the run. The thrill of the run had pumped his adrenaline; the dread of death propelled it further. His heart hammered in his chest, a beating clock, a bomb. It felt like it threatened to explode at any second. Cracked, dry lips opened slightly, taking in as much air that was needed. “Close one.” The man muttered. The only survivor that he knew of right now. Keenan Sinclair. The nineteen year old laid flat on his belly so the soldiers couldn’t see him. His camouflage pants and green shirt made him blend in with the surroundings. His face caked with mud, sweat, and blood. All of which seemed natural to him now.

[Ok I think your main problem here is that you've resused the same words several times. Namely air. You have alot of detail but I feel that the amount you have is bogging down the progression of the story. I might be wrong here its just my feeling that you could aford to cut back on the details a bit. At the same time, though you've gone to great lengths to describe the character I have little info about the enviroment around him. All i got a city streets and shrubbery.]

Behind him, the bushes rattled, causing him to crane his head around and lean on an elbow, a switch blade in his hand. Killing was a natural instinct to him, something that kept him going. Three months he’s been on his own, so far he’s been able to survive. He was not about to let all his struggles go down the drain. His breathing controlled, steady, Keenan slowly crept up. [I think this would sound better if you said "Keenan slowly crept up, his breathing controlled and steady."] The sound of bullets whizzing by him, a good amount of distance away was a small scuffle between Korean’s. [This sentence is confusing. Its not apparant at first glance what you mean] Steady. His heart beat rang in his ears. Focus. He slowly crept on his belly, arms sliding him foreword. The forest was dead silent [I though he was in a city?], no longer did birds and other animals sing happily into the wake of day. They were silent. So eerie that it could disturb the dead. Slowly he stood, the protective cover of the woods covering him. With his trusty switch blade, he slowly stepped foreword. The sound was too light to be a human, which meant it was an animal. An animal was food, and thus survival. He needed it. It was essential. [These two sentences are pretty much the sentence preceeding them, "survival." They are just written differently] Sweat brewed on his brow, despite the cold climate right now [delete. I think it hurts the flow]. A small brown squirrel made a bee line into a [You haven't specified any tree previously so "the is inproper as you could mean any tree] tree. Completely [Delete] too fast for Keenan.

He stood, staring dumbfounded into the tree. Did he make a lot of noise? He thought he was being quiet. Rubbing his brow to free it from sweat, he put the switchblade back into the back pocket of his US military style camie [you should have used this previously in the firs tparagraph when you were talking about his camo pants instead of using it now] pants. He softly padded up the mountain slope [Now he is on a mountain? It would help if you get the stage set quickly, specifing he is in a forested mountain region]. Trying to get back to the small camp that he had. The forest was wet, a couple days prior it had rained cats and dogs. Much to his dismay. Brows drawn together, Keenan walked up, stepping over branches, humming some sort of tune he managed to catch on a AM frequency a few days before. Slowly, he grabbed a thin stick and began to tap it at his side, creating a small rhythm as he did so. A scowl was worn tightly on his face, eyes down cast while he gathered his thoughts. How long has it been? Would he find his parents? His chest tightened, Keenan’s own thought making his heart throb painfully slow. Finally, pushing a few branches from his face, he came along his camping spot. The only thing he could make due with. No military men tread over this way. After all, who could survive in the mountain side? They were dense in their way of thinking. But not too dense. After all, he needed supplies. He took them in the stealthy cover of night. And rarely. Shaggy, jet black hair hung in his face while he set upon his camp, a hand rubbing the stubble that developed on his chin within the last couple of days.

I think that at the core the story could be very good. You need to specify the location. Int eh first paragraph you make it seem as though he is actually in the city of Ashville, rather than looking at it. YOu should have specified he was looking at the streets of the city from the forests on the mountain. I still think that in the begining and end you got too bogged down in detail. If you cut back I think the story can flow better.

EDIT: I think I should clarify that details thing. You give alot of detail that is not neccessary, or you drag out something that could be well said in four or five words. At the same time your lacking some key details that can set the stage quickly in the first paragraph.