Doc Bernard
Indie Arms Member
I am writing this from the commander's POV, primarily. I finally got off my butt and started researching and writing again. So far I have 30 pages done (first 2 chapters).
Guarding the Gates of Hell - A novel by .........Me.
- Thread starter Doc Bernard
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Doc Bernard
Indie Arms Member
I have not been this excited in a while. I am trying to write 2-3 pages a night. My research book is about 1.5 inches thick of looseleaf material. This will be historical fiction with uncanny accuracy to locations, incidents and people (since it is in my neck of the woods). My protagonist is a fictional character woven into the time period and incidents.
Doc Bernard
Indie Arms Member
Got the cover art done and wrote another 10 pages this weekend.
Playing with the idea of turning this into a script when done. Definite Feature. No short with this one.
How do writers find people to read drafts of books for input/critique, prior to the submission process? I will use family and friends, but I am afraid of bias due to the relationship. I guess I am looking for a "focus group" and how to put a decent one together.
Playing with the idea of turning this into a script when done. Definite Feature. No short with this one.
How do writers find people to read drafts of books for input/critique, prior to the submission process? I will use family and friends, but I am afraid of bias due to the relationship. I guess I am looking for a "focus group" and how to put a decent one together.
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Chamber005
Carbonite Member
I don't think most writers use a focus group. You should have your target audience reader and then someone with an advanced degree in English who can give you the once over.
Doc Bernard
Indie Arms Member
Rough Excerpt
Rough Excerpt
Tell me what you think. This is a counter-point to the story. I wanted to round it out more, and I think this is a good way to do it. Tell the opposite side's story in conjunction with the main story.
Overlooking a long desert valley of White Sand and Bitter Water, a lone pair of eyes scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of movement.
Ten minutes earlier, he thought he had seen something out of the corner of his eye while hunting a jackrabbit. This rabbit was a larger animal than what he usually found in this area and he was thankful to his spirit guide for allowing the animal to cross his path. The fur would make a nice gift to give his father when he returned to his people in the east and it would feed him for a few days. But as he drew back his small bow, his attention was drawn away. As he turned to look, the animal bounded away from his aim. It took him hours to finally get within reach of an arrow, and a feeling of anger welled up for his loss of the rabbit. As he untensioned his bow, he took a deep breath and focused his attention on what had distracted him in the first place.
Chu-Gash-Ne had been on his journey to find his way, a spiritual and physical challenge all boys must take to become a man in the eyes of the tribe. He had been on foot for many passings of the sun, heading west from where his family lived, in order to bring back a handful of the alkali sand found at what the white man called So-Da-Lak. That happened to be in the same area of the Mo-Havi, whom they were currently fighting. The trail he followed, was one had been handed down from father to son for generations, as he would hopefully do for his sons as well. It was the way of the Nü-Mü.
Once Chu-Gash-Ne reached a point high enough to view the valley but low enough to remain unseen against the sky, it wasn’t hard to spot the dust trail that was stirred up by many feet. He felt a thrill and a sense of fear, for only the white man would travel so carelessly in the land of the Mo-Havi. He had been extremely careful in his challenge to become a man, traveling as any man of his tribe should. The men who taught him were stern and unforgiving about things that could dictate survival for both himself and the family. Mistakes were not treated lightly in his training and usually ended with a painful reminder across his back . One of those lessons was never leaving a trail of dust, as he was seeing now.
But as he watched the line of men on horses, mules and a wagon cross the valley, he could see that these were the men with blue coats. From stories his father and grandfather spoke at the fire, he knew if he could get close enough to take a horse, he would be sure they would tell stories about him to his sons and the sons of his sons. These men were fierce fighters, and would protect their horses. But right now they were careless and that gave him hope.
The men below didn't know that they were under the watchful and hardened eyes of a soon to be warrior of the Che-me-hue-vai, a tribal branch of the Pah-Ute. But the ignorant blue coats always just called them “In-juns”.
Rough Excerpt
Tell me what you think. This is a counter-point to the story. I wanted to round it out more, and I think this is a good way to do it. Tell the opposite side's story in conjunction with the main story.
Overlooking a long desert valley of White Sand and Bitter Water, a lone pair of eyes scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of movement.
Ten minutes earlier, he thought he had seen something out of the corner of his eye while hunting a jackrabbit. This rabbit was a larger animal than what he usually found in this area and he was thankful to his spirit guide for allowing the animal to cross his path. The fur would make a nice gift to give his father when he returned to his people in the east and it would feed him for a few days. But as he drew back his small bow, his attention was drawn away. As he turned to look, the animal bounded away from his aim. It took him hours to finally get within reach of an arrow, and a feeling of anger welled up for his loss of the rabbit. As he untensioned his bow, he took a deep breath and focused his attention on what had distracted him in the first place.
Chu-Gash-Ne had been on his journey to find his way, a spiritual and physical challenge all boys must take to become a man in the eyes of the tribe. He had been on foot for many passings of the sun, heading west from where his family lived, in order to bring back a handful of the alkali sand found at what the white man called So-Da-Lak. That happened to be in the same area of the Mo-Havi, whom they were currently fighting. The trail he followed, was one had been handed down from father to son for generations, as he would hopefully do for his sons as well. It was the way of the Nü-Mü.
Once Chu-Gash-Ne reached a point high enough to view the valley but low enough to remain unseen against the sky, it wasn’t hard to spot the dust trail that was stirred up by many feet. He felt a thrill and a sense of fear, for only the white man would travel so carelessly in the land of the Mo-Havi. He had been extremely careful in his challenge to become a man, traveling as any man of his tribe should. The men who taught him were stern and unforgiving about things that could dictate survival for both himself and the family. Mistakes were not treated lightly in his training and usually ended with a painful reminder across his back . One of those lessons was never leaving a trail of dust, as he was seeing now.
But as he watched the line of men on horses, mules and a wagon cross the valley, he could see that these were the men with blue coats. From stories his father and grandfather spoke at the fire, he knew if he could get close enough to take a horse, he would be sure they would tell stories about him to his sons and the sons of his sons. These men were fierce fighters, and would protect their horses. But right now they were careless and that gave him hope.
The men below didn't know that they were under the watchful and hardened eyes of a soon to be warrior of the Che-me-hue-vai, a tribal branch of the Pah-Ute. But the ignorant blue coats always just called them “In-juns”.
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