We all need practice ...

I was asked by a novice writer recently to draw on my 40 years as a professional writer and provide feedback on the opening four chapters of the first novel in a multi-book SciFi/Fantasy series he had planned.

It was horrible.

Poor continuity, inconsistent characters and story line, nonexistent character development, amateurish prose, littered with grammatical and punctuation errors, and derivative of popular films such as Game of Thrones, Dune, Lord of the Rings, The Last Star Fighter, and Star Wars.

I provided feedback as requested and suggested he practice on smaller projects until he found his style.  Perhaps joining a local writer's club to receive feedback on small projects.

I also suggested he join in on games we writers play on Twitter ...

There's a writers' game on Twitter in the #WritingCommunity than I enjoy because of its challenge.  Every Friday, fellow writer Craytus Jones drops a theme for that week's #SatSplat.  When selecting my #SatSplat entry, I usually try to find a short passage in one of my own novels that fits the theme.

The catch is; Twitter allows only 280 characters, including spaces and the tag #SatSplat.  It demands brevity while still making your point, delivering your punchline, building that tension.  It forces you to refine your prose down to its sleekest form, making every word count and letting the chaff flutter away in the breeze.

It's important practice and has actually prompted me to return to a section of a wip and tighten up my prose to provide a more economical yet still potent kick.  Here's a few of mine;

Unrequited love

I held my pillow and stared into the dark, remembering Angel's smile that day. How it would be if she was there with me right then, wondering if she was thinking of me – if she ached for my arms to be holding her as much as I ached to do that small and intimate thing.

#SatSplat

Comedy

“You’re not just a pretty face, are you?” I said and sipped my coffee.

“I don’t have a pretty face.” Tosh said, looking concerned.

Either he didn't understand the slang or I was meeting a lot of concrete thinkers lately. 

'BETWIXT (where the dead things go)'

#SatSplat

Supernatural

“Betwixt.” he said, “Most ne’er heared of it and them’s what has think it a story for children to keep them abed at night.  But it’s real as bones, old son.  D’yer know how I knows it?”

“If I had a thousand years I couldn’t guess.”

“Because I died there, mate.”

#SatSplat

Nostalgia

The hippest station for rock in 1959 was CKWX, spinning songs that just made you want to dance.  No one with a soul could help but at least tap their foot when Red Robinson spun a disc, and there were days that listening to those songs stopped my heart from breaking.

#SatSplat

Poetry

I miss the sunset in this space between

that edge of falling light and promised dawn

nevermore in this space between

where the dead things go

where the dead things go

#SatSplat

Action

I swung the machete down hard on the top of the bodyguard's head and buried the blade between his eyebrows.

“Glurg.” he said, staring at nothing as I pulled his sawed-off free, cocked it and aimed both barrels at Billy’s face.

“You gomered him!” Billy squeaked.

"Yep."

#SatSplat

I am waiting to see if that novice writer takes my advice.

Aaron D McClelland

Penticton, BC

GangsterStory