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Paths of the Eternal, WIP story [2134 words] (1 Viewer)

Solokeh Krontos

Senior Member
This is a young story, with many flaws, and youthful trappings wrapped around its infantile ankles.The names are from a constructed language of my own making, that too is a work in progress. They may seem random, but they are all based on a robust root system, with solid meanings. "Ir Irit", for example, means "Trees and living trees."Alright, go at it, shred me.

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Morning swelled into light, the sun blooming like a brilliant ivory rose over the mountains. Jari rolled into a sitting position on his sleeping mat, grumbling at the dew in the grass around him. The monolithic trees all around began to groan, slow and deep.

“Keep it quiet boy, shh,” he said, gently standing up. The small camp was almost dainty in design, a dying fire placed between Ikra, a scaly monstrosity crossed between wolf, draconid, and ox, and Jari, with a pack off to the side. Jari slowly lifted his pack, walking to Ikra and patting her side gently.

“What is it? Have the trees awakened?” Ikra rumbled, shifting her weight as she stood.

“Not quite, I think we’re safe, for now.” Jari swung his pack onto Ikra’s back, strapping it on deftly with a few long leather fastenings.

“The earth is resting, but we must go. She will swallow us up sooner than bargain.” Ikra breathed deep, opening her second and third sets of lungs, the sound like a waterskin being opened. Jari sprung onto her back, cat-like. Ikra stood a little taller, her stunted wings unfurling from her shoulders, pressing into the ground like a third set of legs. Jari wove patterns into the air before them, casting a spell of silence which spread like a bubble around them. He leaned close to Ikra’s ear, whispering,

“Run, you glorious thing, run.”

Ikra left the camp like a bolt of lightning, darting between trees, her legs and wingtips barely touching the ground. She veered left, increasing in speed. The silence was thick, sharply contrasting their speed, what would have been a rush of wind and thundering paws was reduced to a soft whisper under Jari’s spell. Jari rested on Ikra’s back, letting the rapid, gentle gait lull him into a meditative calm. Time seemed to slide past him, the sun rising into the sky, the forest around becoming even more a blur. It ended with a snap as Ikra came to a halt. Before them lay a spring, embedded in the side of the mountain.

“Is this the place? I could smell the water from ten kilometers off.” Ikra trembled, her breathing rapid and deep.

“Calm, calm. This is as it was described in the texts, a spring carved into the mountainside, into Mrmn, the great mountain.” Jari slid from Ikra’s side, crouching next to the spring’s glistening pool. He dipped his fingers into the water, only to jerk them out again, their tips eaten to the bone. He wove a regenerative spell, clenching his hand into a fist until flesh returned to his digits.

“You’ve found it, like a child stumbling on a seam of gold.” Ikra laughed, a low, chunky sound.

“And unlike said child, I will reap this harvest.” Jari unfastened the top of his pack, bringing out a jar and ladle. He knelt at the water’s edge, carefully scooping the limpid fluid into the jar, filling it well, then sealing it, first with a lid, then with a spell. He spent a few more seconds reinforcing the already strong glass, then tucked the vessel into his pack. His heart beat hard, jumping into his throat at every pump of blood.

“Calm boy, calm.” Ikra said, her wolfish face breaking into a wide grin, revealing rows and rows of perfect draconid teeth.

“We did it, this is it. We’re set, for the rest of eternity.”

“I’m still going to out-live you by a few millenia.”

“Not with this, no one has to out-live anyone, we’re immortal.” Jari jumped onto Ikra’s back, grinning. “Let’s make this interesting, no silence spell.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Let’s go.” Jari spread himself over Ikra’s back, preparing for speed. Ikra opened her lungs, spreading her wings, then bolted. The forest around them sprung into life, trees curling over themselves to block their way, earth and stone upheaving in front and behind. Ikra ran in bounds, jumping thirty meters in a single leap. The edge of the wood was in sight, the light falling away behind and growing to the fore. In seconds, she lept from the trees, landing spry on the grass. Both she and Jari panted, turning to look at the forest. It practically boiled with what could only be rage. A sound like the cry of childbirth ripped at the air, the stones on the ground trembling at its might.

“That was idiotic.” Ikra said, still smiling.

“But fun, even for immortals like us.” Jari laughed, rubbing Ikra’s side. “We did it, now let’s go finish this.” He leaned, steering with his knees, looking around the landscape. A few hundred meters to the East lay a body of water, it’s blue disappearing into the horizon.

“Kntajt?” Ikra muttered, panting.

“Could be, the seas of the Northwest are many. Doubtlessly, we’ll find a town on its shores.”

Ikra walked slow, the setting sun settling behind the peak of Chrìoch Cloiche. Water lapped at her paws. Jari slept on her back, held in place by gentle wings. Buildings rose up ahead, small and hand-made, but sturdy. As they reached the little town, men and women gathered to see them.

“Are you the disturbers of the Ir Irit?”

“We disturb only to drink from the purest spring, the Knja” Jari said, wiping sleep from his eyes. A gasp of shock rose from the crowd, surprise quickly turning to anger.

“You cannot drink from the spring, you and your mutated drake are not pure, you’re a mageling.”

“No, I cannot. But you can.” Jari withdrew the flask of springwater from his pack. The villagers erupted into raucous chaos. A few men ran up to grab Jari from Ikra’s back, but she spread her wings and roared, the sound rippling through the air as Jari lit magefire in his hands.

“Why do you rob from the Ir Irit?”

“I come to you, after long consideration, to give you this as a gift, a free offering.”

“Lies! You are no different than any other mageling, thieves and tricksters all.”

“See for yourself.” Jari set himself on the ground, carrying the flask. He set it on the ground, unsealing the magic spells, and lifting the water into a floating sphere of crystal fluid. “If you are pure, come drink, but if you have dealt with any forces beyond you, even merely tasted the blood a god, you will be destroyed.”

A child, no more than eight years old, struggled to his feet next to his mother. His limbs were thin as sticks, eyes vacant and hollow. He broke from his mother’s grasp and walked to the water. Jari smiled, crouching to the child’s level. “What is your name?”

“Kirinta, my name is Kiri.” The child’s voice rasped like a dry file on a sword.

“Drink, Kiri, drink full.” Jari let a drop of water fall from the greater mass. The mother shouted in protest, but did not move. The water entered the boy’s lips in silence. A small light grew in his mouth, glowing like white fire. His eyes shone. A harmonious tone grew all around, ringing purer than a temple gong. The boy began to levitate, arms and legs spread out. Light shot from his eyes, furious and burning as he spun in the air. Faster and faster he revolved, brighter and brighter he shone. There was no heat, but the child had become as bright as the sun. Villagers shook themselves from their amazed stupor and began to run back to their homes in fear. For minutes he remained like a chunk of molten steel in the air, until finally, the light faded. He descended to the ground, his ragged garments gone, smiling. His arms and legs had become full and healthy, his eyes sparkled with mirth.


“All is well, Jari, I am healed.” He turned, walking back to his mother, who knelt to the ground, weeping in shock. Jari smiled, weaving a more permanent spell on the ball of water, so it would remain there. He turned to Ikra, grinning.

“You see that? Did you see that?”

“I saw.” Ikra hung her head, shaking it slightly.

“What? Is that not a good thing?”

“I know what you mean to do. I can’t stop you, but I won’t remain with you if you go on with this.”

“Oh really? Come on Ikra, I’m not going to use the boy. I’ll take some unworthy sod, the town drunk, you know me.”

“I do know you. And I know if no others drink, you will use the boy.”

“It won’t come to that. Let’s go find somewhere to sleep.” Jari wove a light into being in front of them, revealing what had become dark in the failing light.

Ikra stopped at the entrance to the inn, huffing loudly.

“I’ll stay outside, as usual.” She turned, walking toward the lake. Jari laughed, opening the door and stepping inside. The inn was near empty, only an old barkeep tending to spirits on shelves remained.

“You must be the mageling. Your companion would be welcome, but for her size.”

“And you would be the owner of this inn?”

“You could call me that.”

“I brought the water, from the Ir Irit.”

“I heard. Don’t think me ungrateful, but I’ve no use for it.”

“Ah, I see. Work a little spellcraft in your day?”

“That, and I’ve been marked.” The man held his long silver hair away from his head, revealing a small brand.

“Good sigil-work, looks Elven.”

“Close, a Half-Elf named Aeth.” The man sighed, sitting on a stool across the bar. “My name’s Kirim Tkri.”

“I’m Jari, just Jari.”

“Don’t think me rude, but I know your kind. You’re here for your own gain, nothing else.”

“You’ve got me pretty pinned down, huh?”

“Met a few magelings over the years. I don’t have you pinned down so much as I’m curious as to how you’ll get what you came for.”

“You’ll see soon enough then. Got a room for rent?”

Michael grunted in affirmation, gesturing toward the back. Jari handed him a few coins, then headed that way, eager to finish his rest.

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Nijakr leaned into the scrying pool, his sharp eyes darting around Jari’s room. The image was blurry and marred by distance, but retained enough detail for the ancient mage to scour it for clues. Jari lay sleeping, shirtless, blanket bunched up at his feet. His curly red locks sat light on his bare shoulders, slight breaths rippling across his fit, though not chiseled physique.

“At this again Nija?” A slender woman stood at the door to the chamber, her black silk robes fitting loosely around her figure. Nija sighed, waving at her without turning.

“Yes, yes Ormrkri, I must ensure he does not ruin what I have built. The man knows more than he should.” He returned to his work, weaving a more powerful focusing spell over the water. Ormr brushed her greying hair from her face and leaned against the stone doorway.

“You know, this would be less creepy if he was actually your son.”

“I care not for your insults and jests, I must do what I must do, for the good of the council.” Nija paused, closing his eyes and breathing deep. “Why are you here?”

“Krijakr Orja has called a meeting. You were not invited. I thought I would let you know.” She hugged her shoulders and twirled a few fingers in the air, warming her cold surroundings with a simple weave.

“Krijakr Orja can do whatever his heart desires, you know I am not to be troubled with petty gatherings regarding legal matters.” He huffed, finally turning to face Ormr. “This not a petty meeting, I take it?”

“No, not by far. It is about the Jari Tkrimr, the boy you watch at night.” Ormr smiled slightly at her own jab, waiting for a rebuttal.

“You would do well to remember that he is no boy. His face may be young, but he has roamed for the better part of a century.” Nija caught his breath, steeling his expression. “He is mine to control, not a flame to be snuffed out by some high decree.”

“That is no longer for you to decide, Nijakr Tkmror.” Ormr said his name loud, the sound ringing like a funeral gong. Nija clenched a fist, stretching the other hand out, spreading his fingertips far apart.

“I will not be mocked in my own chambers. I will not let one a thousand years my younger tell me what is mine to decide. Get out.” His eyes burned cold, not so much with fury as with a ancient knowledge, an ancient power.

“I apologize, Nija, I’m sorry.” Ormr reached out, pulling her weaves of warmth back into herself. She turned and walked off into the hall, trembling slightly.
 
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MadMickyG

Senior Member
Just an FYI:

Michael grunted in affirmation, gesturing toward the back. Jari handed him a few coins, then headed that way, eager to finish his rest.

A moment before, his name was Kirim Tkri.

I like it. But I'm still wearing my L plates in here. :)

 

Ptolemy

Senior Member
I was originally not going to comment on this, since I didn't understand most of it. Is it supposed to be some sort of fantasy? I kinda guessed it was, but for me it's up in the air.

Overall thoughts:
Let's talk some flying oxen
So, what exactly does Ikra look like? You say "Wolf, Draconid, and ox." Uh what? Is it like Trico from The Last Guardian on some HGH? I mean you say Wolf face and Draconid teeth, how does one have draconid teeth? I mean, I as a regular guy have no idea what the hell they look like. I honestly just neglected your description of her and assumed that she looked like Trico It's the only plausible description I could comprehensibly come up with. Also, what's your plan for her flaws? There is no real "Character Development" with her, her only real "existence" is to be a conversation/transportation piece for Jari. The basics for dialouge (which I'll tip into) is to either advance the plot or build character. All you have is two talking heads going back and forth on how "Yo, we shouldn't mess with the Acid lake, but eh, screw it, no one's going to mind, oh crap they do."

Basically, I don't perceive any flaws for Ikra. Trico (which is again, the best I got here) was at least clumsy and inexperienced, along with having extreme rage issues. This was a form of a flaw even though Trico was overpowered as hell and had the personality of a dog, he still had the flaw in that he could inately hurt the one he grows to trust. Ikra, however, we are not given any real form of "flaw" she's nice, overpowered, can fly, is nice, cares for the boy (Yes, I meant to say nice twice). But there is no contrast to these traits.

That language gap
I can't speak this language you made up. Even with a basic knowledge of colloquialism and linguistics, I don't know how "Ir Irit" means "trees and living trees" It would mean that "it" would be "living" So... what does "I" and "t" mean separately? "Li" and "ving"? The real problem is that people do not understand what you are saying here. "Kntajt"? What does this mean? You imply that it means "seas" or "town" (and you never distinguish which.) but how can that mean "seas" or "towns" when "I" and "T" are used in the word "living" if you really want this sort of 'made up language' you need to set guidelines for this or readers like me, are going to wonder what the hell you are trying to say. Because when "Kntajt" was said, I immediately went and thought "Wait a minute, I and T are in Irit, how can they realistically formulate to make "sea" or "towns" if so, how the hell do you pronouce this? Kay-NeTee-Ah-JahTee? or some other form of made up phonetics?" It doesn't make that much sense.

Got some fluff
You got a lot of fluffy descriptions that do not do much outside of bore me. Yea, you establish that Ikra has lungs twice for some reason. The whole boy Jesus Miracle scene was played out to no end. It just kept going. Yea, we get it, he has super magical powers. It's all fluff that gives me nothing. See, I'm a less is more kinda guy, I'm not a fan of adverbs or abbreviated description, but when you overdescribe a scene, it has a chance of losing it's meaning. And that's what's happened right here. We are given an inextensional dump of description about this scene and it has no real purpose out of showing how "awesome" Jari is.

Let's talk a bit about talking.
The dialogue is alright, one of the bigger problems I feel this forum has is the overall situational use of dialogue, however, you do an alright job at using dialogue. You can definitely see the chemistry and connection that Jari and Ikra have. And the Villagers dialogue wasn't horrible too. The problem I have is that the entire piece is dialogue outside of three sections: Ikra flying, the short scene by the Acid water, then we have the scene with the kid. Let's be real here. If you have three descriptive scenes, make sure they at least look a like. The wall of text on how Jari is awesome at magic (When it's already been established that he's pretty good at it) is just "unnatural"

However, this leads to a bigger problem than just formatting, the reason why that info dump exists is due to your crutching on dialogue. Dialogue has two basic purposes: A.) Build/push the plot (Establish characters, settings, what it be you, if you have plot (which you should) dialogue is excellent at conveying it) and/or B.) Develop character. The best dialogue does both. Your dialogue is all really plot based, with no real developmental substance. Also, there is a crap load of it. I mean, a lot. On this page alone, there is 200 quotation marks used as of writing this. Outside of the four you used in your introduction, and the thirty or so I use in my examples there is around 166ish quotation marks used in your writing. That is around 83 lines of complete dialogue in this story. Not to mention that the entire last section is basically an overwrought conversation that adds nothing to anything really.

Also, not to mention you start SIXTY-ONE PARAGRAPHS with quotation marks. And this is the first page or so. Open your favorite fantasy book and take a peek inside, how many do you think start with over 61 lines of dialogue out of 67? None. None do. You need to actually cut the fluff off of the descriptions you currently have and incorperate them into some more world building descriptions because there is just so much dialogue in this piece of work it's awe inspiring.
 

Solokeh Krontos

Senior Member
@Ptolemy

Ah yes, thank you. I thought there would be problems, I was not disappointed. Not much here is very developed. Most of this was an attempt to world-build via discovery writing, which worked in my head, but the word-puke I ended up with was less than satisfactory, even to me. I'm glad you brought up the lack of character in my flying ox. She's a buddy character in the extreme at the moment, which I hoped to fix later. I simply needed feedback early on, so I wouldn't repeat my mistakes ad infinitum.

The ox, Ikra, is unformed. I had hoped you would do what you did, substitute another fantasy creature for her look. I will get a design nailed down, bur for now, her character needs more work.

Dialogue was excessive, yes, will fix.

The language is a spoken language, converted to writing. It's mainly composed of glottal sounds and rolled R's. "I" and "T" don't mean anything separately, but the sound "It" means living.

The scene with the young boy who flies around in a ball of white light was supposed to demonstrate the transformative power of the water Jari brought out of the forest, not the power of Jari's magic, but if I step away from my own head-space, the confusion is completely understandable. It went on for so long because I got a little simile-happy, and dragged it out.

This is a story of a mage who loses his powers, but that part hasn't been written yet. The whole "Oh wow so good at magic" thing is purposeful, so you have a reason to care when it all gets taken away. I didn't say that, because I believe your expectation of a plot point might colour your critique.

In the end, thank you. It's back to editing this down and writing the rest.
 
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JustRob

FoWF
WF Veterans
I haven't read much of this, but please blame that on my attention span and available time, not your writing. You have a style worth developing, I think. I assume that this is the beginning of the story, so it is valid as a reader to start with an empty mind, so to speak.

Morning swelled into light, the sun blooming like a brilliant ivory rose over the mountains. Jari rolled into a sitting position on his sleeping mat, grumbling at the dew in the grass around him. The monolithic trees all around began to groan, slow and deep.
Without any prior context that last sentence meant little to me. I can't comprehend the monolithic nature of trees, nor their groaning, without clues.

“Keep it quiet boy, shh,” he said, gently standing up. The small camp was almost dainty in design, a dying fire placed between Ikra, a scaly monstrosity crossed between wolf, draconid, and ox, and Jari, with a pack off to the side. Jari slowly lifted his pack, walking to Ikra and patting her side gently.
It takes a while for Ikra's gender to be revealed and hence I can't tell who the "boy" referred to in the dialogue is. Only by a process of elimination can I eventually deduce that Jari is talking to himself. You must give consideration to the order in which you present every detail to paint the picture in the reader's mind progressively and save them doing these mental jigsaw puzzles.

Far from being "dainty in design", which is admittedly a nice phrase in itself, the "small camp" was pretty well non-existent, although by describing it in one sentence, the syntax of which I had to unravel, you had me thinking that it was more complicated than it was. There was no design to it at all in fact.

“What is it? Have the trees awakened?” Ikra rumbled, shifting her weight as she stood.
Now, too late, the idea of sentient trees gives a clue about their previous monolithic nature. Perhaps you should have given a clue about mother nature sleeping and being awoken by the sunrise in your opening paragraph.

“Not quite, I think we’re safe, for now.” Jari swung his pack onto Ikra’s back, strapping it on deftly with a few long leather fastenings.
“The earth is resting, but we must go. She will swallow us up sooner than bargain.”
It may just be me but that last sentence threw me. I got the idea of the trees being malevolent but then encountered "She will swallow us up sooner than ..." and expected the next words to indicate an interval of time but instead got "bargain". You had already indicated that time was of the essence with Jari's remark, so I was inevitably thinking about time. Had you written "She will swallow us up rather than bargain," then I wouldn't have tripped up here. Always read back your own words impartially and critically to see whether you have left an opening for perverse readers like myself to get lost.

Ikra breathed deep, opening her second and third sets of lungs, the sound like a waterskin being opened. Jari sprung onto her back, cat-like.
I have no idea what a waterskin opening sounds like, so this simile is wasted on me. I think you should also be more precise as to how Jari's action resembled that of a cat. As it is the simile is again ineffective by not providing sufficient information. Also opinions vary on this but "sprang" would be a safer choice than "sprung", I suspect.

Ikra left the camp like a bolt of lightning, darting between trees, her legs and wingtips barely touching the ground. She veered left, increasing in speed. The silence was thick, sharply contrasting their speed, what would have been a rush of wind and thundering paws was reduced to a soft whisper under Jari’s spell. Jari rested on Ikra’s back, letting the rapid, gentle gait lull him into a meditative calm. Time seemed to slide past him, the sun rising into the sky, the forest around becoming even more a blur. It ended with a snap as Ikra came to a halt. Before them lay a spring, embedded in the side of the mountain.
With Ikra darting in different directions I couldn't understand the significance of that final left turn, not knowing where she was going to begin with. I think this may be that you are mixing up the new action with the ongoing one. "She veered left, increasing in speed," implies that the left turn is the new information with the increase in speed being incidental, but I think you may have meant the emphasis to be "As she veered left she increased in speed," making the increase in speed the new action.

I could not associate a thick silence with "sharply contrasting" because the thickness and sharpness seemed to be in conflict with each other. Sharpness suggests thinness to me. I also think "contrasting" is the wrong word but am grasping for the ideal one at present. I think a Thesaurus is needed. Maybe just "veiling their speed" or even "shrouding" would suffice, but you can probably do better. Also that sentence runs on because you have two active verbs. This can be corrected simply by changing "was reduced" to "being reduced".

In the statement about Jari resting on Ikra's back you seem to have mixed up the new and old information again. We already know that he is on her back and I think the resting is implied in the latter half of the sentence, so would suggest as a minimal change "Resting on Ikra's back, Jari let the rapid, gentle gait lull him ..." This makes the lulling the new action while acknowledging that you've already mentioned where Jari currently is. I think where you have more than one verb in a sentence you should always consider carefully which you want the reader to see as the emphasised one in this way as it affects the flow of new information quite subtly.

I was thrown by the idea of a spring being embedded in the mountain, probably because I consider the spring to be the moving water rather than its surroundings. A spring emanating from a cleft in the mountain I could accept, but as it is I imagined the water to be frozen in place like Excalibur and somehow unable to escape. Again my imagery may not be the same as that of other readers, but that was my personal reaction.

So, I've run out of time and not got very far, but maybe you can see how much the image building in the reader's mind and how fluently that develops depend on the tiniest of details in your words. Just changing the odd word or the emphasis in a sentence can make the reader's experience a much smoother one and encourage them to keep reading, which is the first rule of the game. As Ptolemy has explained, you then have to prove to them that there is actually something worth reading about. The reader approaches a story initially thinking, "Can I read this comfortably?" and then thinks, "Yes, but is it worth me reading it?"

You've written something worth criticising in detail. That's a good start. Keep at it. It looks promising.
 

Jay Greenstein

Senior Member
Morning swelled into light, the sun blooming like a brilliant ivory rose over the mountains.
You may be reaching a little too far. The sun is the sun. and in the morning it looks just like...the sun. The problem is that this is you noticing, not the character, so you're telling the reader what you visualize happening. In his world-view, it might be more like, "The glow of morning's light outlined on the mountain peasks brought Jari awake." That way he notices, and we begin with something that motivates our protagonist to act.
Jari rolled into a sitting position on his sleeping mat, grumbling at the dew in the grass around him.
A "sitting position?" Is that like saying, he sat up? Have you ever, in your entire life, suggested that someone take a sitting position? I haven't. Again, you, the author, are describing what you see. And that makes the viewpoint external. And because we can't hear the narrator's voice, dispassionate. And as someone who has spent a fair amount of time sleeping outdoors, I have no clue of why he would grumble about dew. He'd have a ground cloth of some kind that would also double as a rain shield.
The monolithic trees all around began to groan, slow and deep.
Only you know what a monolithic tree is, or why it might groan—or what the significance of low and deep is to him.
“Keep it quiet boy, shh,” he said, gently standing up.
So he's talking to the "trees" in the singular? He can't be talking to his mount, that's a she. And in any case we don't know she exists, so he's call to her by name to make us know she's there and who she is. Makes no sense, as is. But that aside, as a reader, I would expect a response to his words. But the next line is you, talking about the campsite, instead, telling the reader what matters to you, not him. And as a minor point, I have no clue of how to stand gently.

The problem is that this is you, watching the mental film and telling the reader what you see, with the characters dancing to your script, mindlessly. But because the view is external, you forget that the reader doesn't have your knowledge, and so don't take that into account. Because you, the author are relating the story you never consult the character to ask what he thinks of the situation, so he just blindly follows the script. No analysis, no hesitation, no concerns or worries, a plot device, rather than a thinking person. He uses no senses other than sight in his decision-making. But a story isn't about what happens, and what's done and said. Your reader is seeking to be entertained, not informed. They want to be made to live the scene in real-rime, not hear about it from an emotion-free voice. Remember, you can tell the reader how a character speaks a line; you can make the reader know the character's mood so we intuit how he would speak a line. But you cannot, cannot, cannot tell the reader how you would. So the emotion in the narrator's "voice" what the words suggest to the reader based on their background. And that reader may be from a different area, be of a different age group, and even different gender. So they will not perceive your words in quite the same way you understand them. That's why it's best for the reader to perceive the protagonist's world and situation as that character does. That character is our avatar, after all. So forget what matters to you. You're looking at events in overview. He's living them in real-time, which is how the reader wants to live them—from within the moment in time your protagonist views as "now."

That's not a way of writing that our teachers even mentioned as existing, as they prepared us to be self-sufficient and employed adults, because our future employers needed us to have the skills of nonfiction, which are fact-based and author-centric. But the goal of nonfiction is to inform, and we want to entertain. So our method must be emotion-based and character-centric, whicb means learning an entirely separate set of writing skills, as we must should we decide to become a screenwriter, playwright, or journalist. In fact, though we're not aware of it, we all leave our school years exactly as well prepared to pilot an ocean liner to its dock as to write a novel.

Fix that and you're good to go. ;) And a great resource is the local library system's fiction writing section.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.
 
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