# The purple Bengal Tigers eat yellow marshmlllows and should they be Rasberry flavour



## gavintonks (May 26, 2012)

I am not sure if people understand what a story is sometimes

The basic story like Romeo and Juliet - is a love story as well as Desdemona and Midsummer nights dream.
They have characters that dye tragically, but you follow their story and emotions, their thoughts and feeling to a conclusion.

If the head Bengal Tiger put raspberry juice in the yellow marshmallows to hide the almond flavored poison, we have a story because we want to know why?well I hope so.

She put the almond based poison in the raspberry and made the marshmallows and gave them to him to eat
is she did this and did that

"Oh,Dearest" the queen Bengal tiger sidled up to her husband with something hidden behind her back.She looked coyly into his eyes, and placed the platter on the table next to his chair,"close your eyes." she teased.

One has to really ask yourself how much importance the decor has on the story, as I am sure most people will already be fantasizing about the set, and conjuring up images in their own minds as they resonate with the story.

I see people are trying to create worlds and places, but that is a travelogue to your imagination and not a story.

One needs to be aware that the novel is not a novel [sorry could not resist]
True or False?


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## gavintonks (May 26, 2012)

lets see how many people see the difference in the colouring of characters as apposed to their deaths


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## Hans (May 26, 2012)

Seriously, I do not know what you want to say. Maybe my English is more lacking than I thought, but I can not make much out of your text.
Do you want us to stop detailing the background of our stories? Risk them to become inconsistent?
I like worldbuilding, so I will do that, story or not, but that is not the question here. My world has lots of details I will never use in my stories. But if they are needed they are there. Creating details is much different from showing them off. And I know people that sometimes want to read a travelogue. Surely you will not forbid me to write for them. Knowing that these texts will never hit mainstream.

As for unnecessary details in stories. Might I give "Les Miserables" as an example? This book starts with sixty pages about a person whose only story purpose it is to shake the hands of the main character. Once. The book has a roundup of the battle of Waterloo because an antagonist accidently saves the live of the father of one of the heroes. The battle is not necessary for the story, but it is there. It has whole chapters about streets in Paris with no story purpose whatsoever. So does that make this a bad book?


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## Mindfire (May 26, 2012)

Um... I'm sorry but I can't quite make out what your point is. Could you explain a bit?


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## Krieger (May 26, 2012)

Detail has it's place, but not at the risk of interrupting the rhythm of the story. The way I see it, if the narrative is flowing at a good pace, details will slip by the POV character unnoticed; they're too tied up with their struggle to notice anything that isn't actually important to what's going on. I know if someone was swinging a sword at my face, I wouldn't take the time to stop and admire the craftsmanship.


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## The Dark One (May 26, 2012)

You haven't been eating the yellow mushrooms have you Gavin?


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## T.Allen.Smith (May 26, 2012)

I think Gavin is just trying to say "Story first". I agree with that.

All other details make it different from the stories before (and the writers voice). But it's easy to get bogged down in the details when they should be an enhancement to the story and not the story itself.


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## Caged Maiden (May 26, 2012)

I think it's a question of experience that's been brought up here.  When young people write, we begin with concepts, and make out a world that is very detailed.  And then it's almost a compulsion to find places to enter all the clever details it took so long to invent.  I am guilty of it too, and when I look back on my first few novels, they aren't nearly as clever as I had imagined, but long and boring.  I mean, who cares whether my dwarves have a very clever state-of-the art plumbing system with flush toilets underground?  It's boring to write a scene in which they are used...

While I agree that a certain amount of world-building is necessary, an author needs to keep in mind whether every detail needs to make it to second draft.


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## Devor (May 26, 2012)

gavintonks said:


> I am not sure if people understand what a story is sometimes
> 
> . . . .
> 
> ...



I just want to say something.

If somebody posts, asking if the marshmallows fed to the purple Bengal tigers should be a raspberry flavor, it does not mean they do not have a story.  It only means they have a question.

It is tiresome to see threads like this, not because you're wrong gavintonks - you're not, and you're not the first - but because they seem to imply that there's something wrong with the posts people are making and the questions people ask.  There's not.

If you want people to talk more about story, how about you make a post asking and sharing about your own story and start a trend.

I know that when I ask about my story, I get a lot of crickets.  I also get annoying comments like these telling me I'm asking the wrong question.  And I get a few timid answers, and then a neverending slew of irrelevant questions because people don't know how to answer story-based questions easily.

Figure out how to address _that_ problem, and find me a technique that's conducive to storyboarding in these forums, and then I might agree that people are asking the wrong questions.

In the meantime, it's just being passive-aggressive.


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## Caged Maiden (May 26, 2012)

did I misunderstand the original question?


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## Mindfire (May 26, 2012)

anihow said:


> did I misunderstand the original question?



It least you had some kind of understanding of it. I STILL can't make out what on earth he said.


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## Caged Maiden (May 26, 2012)

Okay I think I get it now.  So when I post a story section to ask a question, I try to keep is as succinct as I can mostly out of respect for people who would offer me help.  I am happy to answer any further questions which people might put forth, because whatever they want to know, I am happy to be getting help.


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## Mindfire (May 27, 2012)

anihow said:


> Okay I think I get it now.  So when I post a story section to ask a question, I try to keep is as succinct as I can mostly out of respect for people who would offer me help.  I am happy to answer any further questions which people might put forth, because whatever they want to know, I am happy to be getting help.



What? What does any of this have to do with purple tigers and yellow raspberry marshmellows? Why can I never understand anything this gavin fellow posts? Am I the only one who finds his posts incomprehensible? Where does he come up with these insane convoluted metaphors? I mean no offense, but f I read one more post in this thread, I might just lose my grip on sanity. I'm going to step out for a while.


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## Caged Maiden (May 27, 2012)

It's okay Mindfire.  I used Devor's translation after my first post didn't seem in line with his response.  Anyways, I'm out  too.  I think all that makes sense has already been said.  To add more now might just be off topic and then this thread will descend into weirdness.


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## gavintonks (May 27, 2012)

well one it has reached its objective people have responded
2 - where is the story?
3 - It has nothing to do with anything other than a concept so if you find it weird imagine how the reader feels
4 - their is an expectation which is not met, as the substance does not justify the words hence indignation
Plus some people jump to conclusions without trying to find out what the story means first by simply asking questions. so running away is just a cop out and some self righteous rhetoric


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## gavintonks (May 27, 2012)

so in the end it proves most people are on an ego trip to create some self righteous beacon of their own ego as apposed to writing a good and entertaining story - go figure hahahhahahaha


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## Hans (May 27, 2012)

gavintonks said:


> so in the end it proves most people are on an ego trip to create some self righteous beacon of their own ego as apposed to writing a good and entertaining story


What is your point?
Of course the people here are using their own imagination to write stories. How do you get from there that these are not good and entertaining stories?


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## gavintonks (May 27, 2012)

This topic is about debate and discussion about issues and topics, so why not learn to debate and play with a concept until it is talked out. The aggression is so unnecessary, and I have every right to an opinion, and I have every right to voice it. 
I am discussing a point and every single person that has a bruise and tries to justify why they are doing things just shows they feel guilty about their acts. A person who is solid in the knowledge of creating an epic or something great does not need to justify their existence.

I thought the reason people would come together is to go from good to great, a place to resonate with your story, instead I find most people have a hope this will be a "found" place because I have raspberry flavored yellow marshmallows someone is going to think this is the coolest ting every and sign me to a deal make harry potter blush.

The aggression  and silly egos like I am out of here because I cannot understand him has no place here why? because I have to learn to communicate to the people who do not have a clue and are prepared to write it so everyone can see.But more importantly if we cannot cultivate a feeling of compassion help and understanding, then this just becomes an ego trip with egos the size of planets with purple ninja leaves.

To obfuscate the reason for a post is easy, to lead the foolish is even easier but a wise man will challenge and discuss and unpack the reason why, and if they cannot do not or will not, they can at least ask why?
Then is non so stupid as those who will not think.

What one of you wishes to be challenged to be good to great or excellent to world renowned, Do you think by not being challenged or not debating that you will learn something. Do you fora moment believe what you post is the best you can do? I have a client who challenged me at every turn, sent my work to 200 of his associates to pick apart and comment on before it was sent to the client. We have choices learn what it is about or throw in the towel, or become self righteous and indignant. It is after all your choice.

I have a good story but I want it to be the greatest story ever told, do you think I am going to achieve that by complacency, ego and self righteous bullshit?


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## gavintonks (May 27, 2012)

The fundamental core of what a reader is embracing is the story, and the story resonates with the world harry Potter is a teenage wizard, Tolkein is a childlike race both brave the unknown and perils far greater than human or near human should,it is a simple story age old, and has made the authors untold millions and billionaires. If we strive for success and in whatever category we wish it to be, without unpacking and exploring avenues and concepts we pay untold millions in unnecessary school fees.

The internet has empowered the voice, a person can reach an audience and each person wishes to be the king of their domain, but unless it is tempered with respect, understanding and a shared conscious will to be the best that we can be, I feel the continued knee jerk reactions and egocentric bad mouthing of people will continue.

The objective is a platform of learning sharing and debate but of what?
I thought it should be the realm of fantasy and story - not ego and self righteous indignation


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## gavintonks (May 27, 2012)

There are important questions to writing and understanding the want and desire to be a successful writer, I thank the posters who made a positive contribution here.
If we cannot think and plan it makes the 50/50 chance of success and failure, guaranteed failure. We are in a highly competitive industry with 1 million people trying to get published this year alone.
What makes us better writers or more successful, or even published?


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## Amanita (May 27, 2012)

Like many others too, it's hard for me to understand what your actual problem is. If you believe this is a good thing, maybe just another bit of proof of the stupidity inherent to the rest of us, continue believing it by all means though I fail to see the point in such posting. If this isn't your intention, trying to make it clearer might help.
If I got it right, you believe that many of us put too much effort into world-building and too little into the plot. The questions about world-building, magic and the like annoy you, because you don't think there important or consider posting them a sign of arrogance. By the way, I've noticed that this kind of things isn't too welcome on the forums anymore and therefore stopped posting any of it quite a while ago.  
If this is your problem I wonder why you don't just ignore these threads and read those with "better" questions. No one makes you click on threads which annoy you though I also know that there is an unhealthy tendency to do just that. 
It's become quite common here on the forums that members talk about how they've figured out what has to be done to become a succesful author and how everyone with a different opinion is so wrong and doomed to failure. I don't understand this missionary fervour. If you're sure they're going to fail, let them (us) fail and prove yourself right by succeding yourself. Not becoming a succesful writer will not mean life-shattering misery, at least not for me.


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## Devor (May 27, 2012)

gavintonks said:


> I am discussing a point and every single person that has a bruise and tries to justify why they are doing things just shows they feel guilty about their acts. A person who is solid in the knowledge of creating an epic or something great does not need to justify their existence.
> 
> . . . .
> 
> But more importantly if we cannot cultivate a feeling of compassion help and understanding, then this just becomes an ego trip with egos the size of planets with purple ninja leaves.



We write fantasy, right?  So we should know what a self-fulfilling prophecy is, right?  If you assume that everyone is posting out of ego, and you treat people accordingly, well of course that's the response you're going to get.  People resent being told their ideas are self-serving.

It could, however, occur to you to invite someone to share more about their story, which they might do if you explained that raspberry was a terrible flavor of mushroom to feed to the purple Bengal tigers because raspberry is kind of a fad right now.  Cranberry would sound more distinctive.

It seems to me that we shouldn't make sweeping assumptions about the quality and content of someone's work because they ask about their world and not about their story.  You seem to think it means they have no story, and that's condescending.  It's just really not easy to talk about your story in these forums, and that's not changing anytime that I can foresee.

And by the way, telling people that they must be "bruised" and that they're out to "justify their existence"?  _What the Hell?_  Have you even read any of their work?  Mine?  Maybe everybody in this thread should swap excerpts and we can see who here really needs most to justify their existence.


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## Queshire (May 27, 2012)

I know from personally experience that when you go with a world first approach it is very easy to get so caught up in the world building that you never get around to writing the actual story, or that if you go world first you're tempted to cram everything you ever invented about your world into your book even if it doesn't fit, but really....

I can't help but think....

So what?

Writing isn't my career, it's a hobby. Sure getting published would be nice, but I really don't mind. As a hobby, I want it to be fun. World building is fun. When I try plot first, I feel so stifled. Oh no! You can't let your imagination fly because it doesn't fit the _story!_ You may think that when we post our magic systems without really asking any questions that we're just bragging how cool an idea we came up with it, and you're prolly right. Again, though, that's what I find fun so really, whatever.


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## gavintonks (May 27, 2012)

This post is a discussion nothing more, I have not posted anything about what I believe I have posted what I have observed.  
It is not rocket science to ignore a post and far too many deserving people have their posts ignored when they are asking for help while we are on the point, it costs nothing to read a few lines and support a fellow reader. So why ignore something when you can add value?

I have no idea where the point comes that I have a problem, does it look or sound like I have a problem? This is a post which is making people react and react with their emotional conviction about what they perceive to be written. It is a challenge for people to debate, and all I see is opinion and not debate, wh can you not play the ball I have put into play?
Why must it be I have some hidden agenda?

The opinions so far are about what people believe as my motive which is erroneous, I have made a statement which some people have picked up on and understand the post completely,- is their a perception that writing about the decor is a good story, and yes if the person succeeds at doing it well done. But who is being successful and selling or is it a case of floundering around in the hope of hitting something in the dark.



I love the presumption that I am talking about someone who has posted and being critical of a member here which is a completely false perception, but the fact that their is a body of work that has no story yet people carry on about it as if they do have one.


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## Queshire (May 27, 2012)

Honestly, I don't mean to be rude, but it would help if your writing was less.... Purple Prose-ish. If we mistake your intention it's because we have to disect your posts to figure out just what the hell you're trying to say. =_=

Basically, you're trying to get us to talk about how much detail we should write about things that aren't important to the plot? I think that can vary. A fleshed out detailed environment can certainly add atmosphere to the story which is good, but too much and your readers get bored which is bad. According to the Law of Conservation of Detail the more detailed a thing is the more important it should be to the plot, and likewise unimportant things shouldn't be that detailed, but too much of that can hurt your writing. "Oh hey that guy has a name! He must be important"

Basically, I guess each author has to find the right balance for themselves, yeah?


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## Penpilot (May 27, 2012)

Gav, I agree with the basics of what I think your initial post is saying, but the way things are worded and present is rather opaque. One has to really dig and in some instances guess at what the post is saying. If there is to be a discussion or debate one has to know what is being debated and discussed first, and that is not clear. 

IMHO one of the greatest skills a writer must have is the ability to state things clearly and, from my perspective, that is the big bone of contention that's laying there between the dogs right now. I don't think people are understanding exactly what you're saying and the misunderstandings are causing friction. 

Maybe I'm just thick, so could you please restate what your thoughts or positions are in a simpler and clearer manner so folk like me can have a better understanding?


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## Devor (May 27, 2012)

gavintonks said:


> ....their is a body of work that has no story yet people carry on about it as if they do have one.



That right there is what I've been responding to, Gav.  Why do you say that someone asking one question has no story which they're just not posting about?


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## Caged Maiden (May 27, 2012)

You could read my work some time.  I'm pretty confident in it, and am thick-skinned enough to hear anything you have to say about it.  Not everyone here is brimming with confidence, though, and some people can't take the slightest criticism.  That being said, being abrasive isn't the best way to start a relationship with anyone, and the point people think you're trying to make... sounds sort of abrasive.

Have I been blown away by every excerpt I've read?  Not hardly.  But then, I have plenty of my own stories I'd like to strengthen too.  While I have some scenes that would make a grown man cry, and others that are so spicy you need a break in the middle for some air, not every scene I write is as riveting.  Shall I give up because a work isn't strong?  I don't think so.  I take my time and LEARN the skills necessary to bring my story to light.  Unfortunately, I don't edit as I go, I edit at the end.  And so do many of the people here.  So often their posts are not as clean as we'd like, because they are still WRITING.  While I agree, I'd rather see pretty clean things in the showcase, I think the questions forums are the perfect place for people to ask their questions about their first drafts.  

Please, if you have experience you want to share with those of us who are trying to learn all we can about strengthening ourselves as writers, offer it.  And if you are just being curmudgeonly, consider critiquing some of my stuff.  I like a good, tough, no-holds-barred critique.  Some folks can't handle it, but I actually like being raked through the coals.


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## gavintonks (May 28, 2012)

I am enjoying the posts as
1 - this post is deliberately vague in order to stimulate debate which is happening, and people are rising to the challenge, if an issue is clear cut you answer yes or no. If a post is vague you are challenging the perceptions and unpacking the words looking for understanding. Hopefully then you will share the understanding and ask for clarity. This way we have a process of development in terms of the original objective of the post. 
Pius we also get a new objectivity when people analyze the post [it is a thought form it is not objective writing]  what they have read and how they respond accordingly. 
Explanation of a thought form - we think in abstract shapes, so the text is designed to present an abstract shape purple yellow tigers stripes,it is meant to be confusing
2 - It is not for me to judge successful writing as many people have succeeded with obscure writing that has flaunted every single norm that is posted. However if we can see the passion and the determination to make a story succeed, then that i learning and an aha moment.
Stories grow from the heart, emotion and dedication, and this sets a story apart, so on the one hand we have style writing, good and bad advice and on the other we have passion and experience and desire. With desire you can accomplish anything, it is a necessary driving force, so you need to know what is driving you. Some people have mentioned that 
3 - The reason I have posted this is to try and get more people to engage. I wanted to shake the tree of complacency, when your world is attacked you defend it, and when your defense is challenged you reach down to depths you never knew you had.  
Life is short and requires living, it requires risk, it requires using what you have but many people sit in a comfort zone, when that is taken away from you, you begin to realize this vast sea of opportunity that you exist in. It is so awesome, but many do not believe it is theirs to have and unless you are challenged you pick the low hanging fruit.[so to speak]

I have set a ball rolling, I had a number of conflicting emotions of the feelings being generated by the board in general, I wanted to challenge the process.
Now imagine the excitement to run with this concept and open doors you never knew were there or even closed.Their is an excitement in discovery, in sharing and in growing.

I want this post to challenge our complacency and add value to ourselves and challenge what we are too scared to look at for fear of failure.
Writing is the hardest thing I have ever done, and it is really hard work to learn, I have grown enormously thanks to many people who have taken time out and made comments, It is like seeing yourself as a balloon you need all the air you can get to grow to your full potential.

I also find the concept of people requiring a thick skin because growing and learning is not having a thick skin it is understanding that we have generated something that is green and requires ripening, The first crit I ever received was devastating the person refused to read it because some commas were in the wrong place.

If we understand the nature of the site and the need for growth and the value of a person investing time in us, we can become more objective.The objective is to grow to be good authors whose work is read and enjoyed, even if it is a hobby.If we change perception and attitude we can understand growth and sharing and remove the negative emotional stigma of criticism and see it as self growth.

We after all have one choice - how we accept the criticism as personal or as education


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## gavintonks (May 28, 2012)

Anihow can I ask you to post a piece here and then let us break things down from your intent, your desire and your process, and look at the objectives against the writing skill and style, as an objective exercise that looks at building the positives. My book is 117 000 words and I need to look at every single word and see if it is the right one. It is hard I am not skilled in punctuation, spelling and grammar which makes it even harder for me. 

I want this process to be a building not a breaking down and a requirement of novacane before we read the criticism


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## gavintonks (May 28, 2012)

The biggest problem is the concept is a nebulous concept. it is undefined difficult to put your finger on and above all emotional. We need to detach ourselves from emotion as objectivity in terms of readability, but embrace that passion and emotion to make people resonate with their work.

I believe that Van Gogh work is so prized because he painted his life essence into his work, his madness and life bleeds from every stroke as ours should with every word.
We are all using the same dictionary and words but what makes us using those words different, - the passion we embody in the writing


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## gavintonks (May 28, 2012)

If the head Bengal Tiger put raspberry juice in the yellow marshmallows to hide the almond flavored poison, we have a story because we want to know why?*well I hope so.*

This is the first clue in the post - well I hope so, I have to believe that I can make it work, and I need to work through it until it works as that is the difference getting up one more time until it succeeds.


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## Queshire (May 28, 2012)

There's intentionally being vague to promote discussion and then there's being so vague that we don't know what the hell the discussion is supposed to be about. =_=


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## gavintonks (May 28, 2012)

then make it more substantial the power is in your hands


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## Ireth (May 28, 2012)

I would think the power would fall in your hands, Gavin, since you're the one who made the thread to start the discussion.


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## gavintonks (May 29, 2012)

1- how much emotional iq does one need in your story to make it grab readers?
2 - How innovative can you be in this climate in order to be published / good work is often ignored as it is too much of an effort to market
3 - how passionate are you about what you are doing, and the choices to be successful?
4 - how focused are you on a story for your readers?
5 - how positive are you in developing something as to say breaking people / stories down [as we definitely have attitude at times from both sides] as people misconstrue the purpose of criticism and development
6 - how good a writer do you wish to be? great! and how much are you prepared to push the story until it rocks, what do you determine as being 'finished?'   
7 - are you here to engage and improve or hoping to be be discovered?
8 - maybe we should have a situation when people post it is because they have read and commented on other posts in order to earn a 'privilege' of people's time and effort?


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## Caged Maiden (May 29, 2012)

Okay, it's hard to find a scene which needs no background to understand the context, but I'll give it a go.  This is a scene I think is weak, but it is part of the antagonist interrogating the MC.  She's been kidnapped and this is the first of three interrogation scenes, the last of which is pretty brutal and bloody.  Anyways, I could use some help with it, because as it stands, it runs the risk of being cut upon editing.

CHAPTER 6

     “The cell” was a damp and filthy place.  It was a large round stone dungeon that smelled of mold and excrement.  The walls were approximately thirty-five feet high, and made of smooth stones, impossible to climb.  Raven could make out the stars in the night sky above.

 Her hands were still bound, but she could freely move around the large dungeon.  She sat in silence upon a musty straw mattress, having taxed herself yelling for help through the day.  The stone walls were thick and the grate above so far away.  

     A clanging sounded at the door, causing Raven to stand, and a moment later the door opened and Dimata’s men entered followed by the mage, Simon.

     Raven stared steadily ahead.

     The guards stood at attention at the door as the mage approached her.  Raven smelled fear upon him.  It was quite clear to her that he was a novice at magic, even though she had little knowledge of the ways of wizards.  He lacked confidence.  He had duped Dimata.  What did he want with her?

     “Have you anything to tell me?” asked the awkward wizard in a sniveling voice, “or are you enjoying your stay in the cell?”  He snickered rudely.

     Raven said nothing.

     “If you don’t feel like talking to me, that’s fine.  Dimata has ways to make you talk.”

     Raven glared a him.  “But not you?  If that is the case, I will wait for the real interrogators to arrive.”

     When Simon grew angry, she was pleased.

     “Guard!” he shouted.

     One of the men stepped forward.

     “Your sword,” demanded Simon, holding out his hand.

     Raven did not blink.  She would give nothing away to him.

     The guard also made no motion.  The mage looked at the guard expectantly.

     “My Lord has not given me instructions to hand my weapon over to anyone,” the guard said, apologetically.

     Simon’s frustration grew.

     Forgetting all reason Raven smirked, playing the game of the Dons; manipulation, intimidation, and domination.  She laughed a long rude laugh as Simon’s face turned red.

     “A sword?  A real mage would threaten with a fireball or lightning bolt!” she roared.  “Or had he not that, then at least a curse.  But all that this one can think of to threaten with is a sword!”

     She wiped fake tears from her eyes.  “And he cannot command the guard to relinquish the weapon because his authority is as impotent as his magic!”

     The mage took a swing at her.

     She luckily caught the clumsy, desperate blow with the chain between her two wrist shackles.  Simon’s eyes went wide as she twisted the short chain, pinching his wrist painfully.  

     “Heed me well, false-mage,” she hissed through clenched teeth.  “I know you have no power, but for now you have your master fooled.  You tricked him somehow with that mirror, you and I both know it.”

     He struggled to free his hand, but she held him fast.  The soldiers made no immediate move to free Simon.  Instead, they exchanged knowing glances between themselves and a faint smile flickered upon the near one’s face.

     “Pray that he does not find out,” continued Raven, squeezing his hand tighter.  “He’d be displeased with all the energy he’s put into detaining me for naught.”

     The guard finally moved forward threateningly, and Raven let up a little on the pressure.  Simon snatched his hand back and staggered away from her.  He left the cell with the two guards in tow.

      Raven slumped down on her mattress and leaned against the cold wall.  She could not stop her hands from shaking.  Adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream and her heart pounded in her chest.


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## T.Allen.Smith (May 29, 2012)

I like your dialogue and what I can glean from the storyline is interesting.
The problems I have with the scene is there's an awful lot of description that just "tells" us what is around her. It would be far better for us to experience (as readers) if you "showed" us the setting & Raven's predicament by involving her senses...and in turn making it real for us.

For example, instead of saying "the stone wall was cold" tell us how it caused Raven's skin to prickle or her body to shiver.

Just my two cents....


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## Sir Tristram (May 30, 2012)

In response to the end of post #18, no,but that's what imagination is for.  What are you trying to say anyways?????  And what's all this nonsense about bruised egos??? Also, just because someone defends their work or methodology doesn't make them in any way guilty.  It makes them someone who cares about their work.  Another thing---YES, you NEED a setting, or the story will lose much of its appeal and value.


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## Penpilot (May 30, 2012)

Overall I think the basic personalities of the two characters, Simon and Raven, come across nice enough. The pace, the dialogue, and the foundation of how the scene plays out works. What I think isn’t working is it’s not getting into Raven’s emotional landscape enough. We get more at the tail end of the scene, but almost none at the beginning. So things aren’t quite balanced.



anihow said:


> Her hands were still bound, but she could freely move around the large dungeon. She sat in silence upon a musty straw mattress, having taxed herself yelling for help through the day. The stone walls were thick and the grate above so far away.



Here’s an instance where things are being described, but not felt. How do her throat and lungs feel after all that yelling? She can see the stars and sky through the grate, how does that make her feel? Does she wish she were somewhere else, with someone else?



anihow said:


> Raven stared steadily ahead.



What’s she thinking here? What’s the purpose of that stare? Is she refusing to show weakness? 



anihow said:


> “Have you anything to tell me?” asked the awkward wizard in a sniveling voice, “or are you enjoying your stay in the cell?” He snickered rudely.
> 
> Raven said nothing.



Again, what’s she thinking? She may be showing defiance on the outside, but is she defiant inside too?



anihow said:


> Raven glared a him. “But not you? If that is the case, I will wait for the real interrogators to arrive.”
> 
> When Simon grew angry, she was pleased.



This is my favorite bit from the piece. We get a peek at what’s inside Raven.



anihow said:


> She luckily caught the clumsy, desperate blow with the chain between her two wrist shackles. Simon’s eyes went wide as she twisted the short chain, pinching his wrist painfully.



Small thing, saying she was lucky takes away from her verbally toying with Simon and just plain being better than him.



anihow said:


> “The cell” was a damp and filthy place. It was a large round stone dungeon that smelled of mold and excrement. The walls were approximately thirty-five feet high, and made of smooth stones, impossible to climb. Raven could make out the stars in the night sky above.



Something minor that would probably get caught in further edits, but I’ll just mention it anyway. There’s a bit of redundancy here in terms of description. The first sentence says the cell was damp and filthy, but in the second sentence implies this with the mention of mold and excrement. The second sentence says it’s a stone dungeon and the third sentence says the walls were made of smooth stone. Both these instances I think choosing one over the other would save some words and make things flow better. 

Lastly, all the instances where I pointed out wanting to know what Raven was thinking are just spots where some introspection could take place, not should. Because too much introspection will drop a 1000lb weight into the nicely pace scene and slow it to a crawl.

I hope this helps, because sometimes my two cents ain't worth a plum nickel.


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## T.Allen.Smith (May 30, 2012)

A very nice & well thought out critique PenPilot. You took the time to go into depth.

Also, thanks for sharing your work Ani.


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## gavintonks (Jun 1, 2012)

I posted a very detailed post on the emotional content of the scene but the internet is playing up and it crashed so I lost the entire post

I suggested we look at the emotional content of the scene
1 - the pain he character experiences from captivity and shackles, chaffing, pins and needles it can be excruciatingly painful
3 - The conflict emotionally between the characters
4 - the pov and the descriptive view point of the scene settings


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## gavintonks (Jun 1, 2012)

yes and thanks for posting it is appreciated


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## gavintonks (Jun 1, 2012)

The emotions
revulsion
unpleasant
smells
visual
taste
feeling
sense of being trapped
stars / escape freedom counterbalance to the trapped
thirst / the thirst her body craving moisture
how long is she there?
the emotions churning in the pit of her stomach - red to the character, show a weakness that is thrust aside to be a strength
feeling that they wish to break you but you will not be a victim 



The cell” was a damp and filthy place. It was a large round stone dungeon that smelled of mold and excrement. The walls were approximately thirty-five feet high, and made of smooth stones, impossible to climb. Raven could make out the stars in the night sky above.

# Raven had worn a path around the smooth stone cell, she glanced up at the sky and the stars taunted her. The prison was complete, escape was impossible. The filth and stench clung to her nostrils and her boots. She had long given up trying to avoid stepping in unknown muck.

Her arms ached from the manacles and angry red welts had risen where that had squeezed her flesh. Taking a deep breath, she moved her mind to another place for a moments respite.
"I will be free," she said to herself over and over again. Exhausted she slid down the wall onto the filthy straw mattress.   
She lay propped against the stone a rag doll,
"How had she landed in this situation/" she ran the events over in her mind.
Her body itched, things crawled on her, the stench threatened to overwhelm, the metal grate of rust against rust, brought her mind back in sharp focus.

For a moment she thought she had her ears playing tricks in the silence, her beating heart pumped she could hear the sound in the silence,

If we look at the scene we have set the character up
now we have action the door is going to open
How 
what emotion
what do you wish the reader to feel

The door pushed open the accumulated debris in a pile which sent waves of awful stench making her feel sick
The burst of lamplight made her shut her eyes and try and turn away
the mage came flapping through the door with soldiers in tow
he stepped and pulled his robes up so he does not get them filthy

'oh no!" its you I had hoped it was the executioner t put me out of my misery from seeing you again
barbed sentences
they were told to not give you a sword, you may hurt yourself
probably the same with a spell, they scared youll trip and fix them with it

plus the distance between your characters
he hopped through the fetid rubbish like a bird
She was not going to give him the satisfaction of getting up
H ehas to bend to whisper in her ear, his how damp breath in her ear
he strikes her, he needs to have a victim
Her hands were still bound, but she could freely move around the large dungeon. She sat in silence upon a musty straw mattress, having taxed herself yelling for help through the day. The stone walls were thick and the grate above so far away.

A clanging sounded at the door, causing Raven to stand, and a moment later the door opened and Dimata’s men entered followed by the mage, Simon.

Raven stared steadily ahead.


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## gavintonks (Jun 1, 2012)

would she consider yelling for escape why?
is this in her nature
If we hone in on the bodies and their context and proximity
she pushed his body away, but he laughed and licked her ear,
she will cut out his tongue next time she has the chance for that

the soldiers will not hold him back they are not involved
she spits on him because it is all she can do so he hits her with a back hand
I find freezing a moment an describing it helps define how the story will run

1 - in context with the pov as that is how and the manor in which it is told
2 - from inside the characters emotional responses to bodily actions
3 - the emotion you wish the reader to feel
4 - the drama that un-folds to the next scene
how much information is released in this scene to make the reader want to learn more


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## gavintonks (Jun 1, 2012)

the door flew open and all the hate she had in her flared in her eyes, that worthless scum, "so they have sent a sniveling half runt, to do their duty." she did not know if it was wise to taunt him so. H estrode across and grabbed her manicalled hands, she could not help but wince and cry out with pain. he twisted crelly as he yanked her to her feet. steeling herself she fed on her hate and opened her eyes to meet his. He did not expect that look, and turned away, guards bring me a sword."
his foolish stance made him angry as they deliberately disobeyed.
Guards bring m you sword he demanded and jerked her to the side.
we have orders sir
he half dragged her across the room and tired to garb a dagger from the gurads belt. he stepped away respectfully
this enfuriated him even more
he backhanded Raven and sent her sprawling in the filth.
pain shot through her, she breathed heavily, her eyes teared and her face smarted 
she would not be his victim
she managed to lift herself but did not have the strength to rise, she panted, "you need to hit girls you impotent excuse for a mage," he lifted his leg to kick but a look from the guards made him hesitate she knew she had him then

playing with emotions and response, can create and lift the story creating tension and breath holding scenes


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 1, 2012)

I guess I saved most of the emotional responses for the third interrogation scene.  THat's one of the reasons I thought of cutting the first.  Each builds in intensity, and this first one her opponent is a weak man who she knows she is smarter than.  Also, at this point, she's only been there one day and night, so she still has strength.  She's a tough woman, tempered by the mean streets, but she is also very mart and plays a cool sort of manipulation.  

When the second interrogator enters she is afraid of him, though her hope is strong that she can talk her way out.  

In the third one, she is much weaker, both physically and mentally, and they bring with them her companion who had been beaten to within an inch of his life.  Though she holds no love for the mn, just the sight of his blood and the sorry state in which they left him is enough to get her to cooperate.  It's a pretty brutal scene, so I was hesitant to do too much in the first because I wanted the third to have more emotional impact for the reader.  

If I start a thread with all three would you guys weigh-in on what you think of the chapter as a whole?  I must warn that it's kinda graphic though, and involves her being raped.  I don't know whether anyone would hve a problem reading that.  Thanks for everyone who has demonstrated how I can strengthen this scene.  It is one that I feel I haven't maximized my impact with.


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## Penpilot (Jun 1, 2012)

I'd be glad to weigh in if you start a thread. 

Just one thing I though of as I read your post. I think the three escalating scenes could be really effective. There's this nice arc where she starts strong and grows weaker where as the interrogators start weak and grow stronger.  Scene 1, she's strong and interrogator weak. Scene 2, they can bother be on relatively equal footing with nice back an fourth. Scene 3, she's spent and the interrogator is strong. 

If she's worn down, to me at least, it lets the character retain their strength even if they break or crack.


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 1, 2012)

Thanks Penpilot, I'll do it.  I love what you guys are saying, but I'd like to show you all how the three scenes fit together.  I'm hesitant to put too much detail into the first for exactly the reason you just mentioned.


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 1, 2012)

Okay here's the thread I started.  I put in all but the very end of the chapter, and while it is rough draft, I hope you get what I'm trying to accomplish in it.  Thanks guys, I love hearing where I am successful and what I need to improve on.  http://mythicscribes.com/forums/writing-questions/3653-interrogation-sequence.html#post45595


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 1, 2012)

gavintonks said:


> # Raven had worn a path around the smooth stone cell, she glanced up at the sky and the stars taunted her. The prison was complete, escape was impossible. The filth and stench clung to her nostrils and her boots. She had long given up trying to avoid stepping in unknown muck.
> 
> Her arms ached from the manacles and angry red welts had risen where that had squeezed her flesh. Taking a deep breath, she moved her mind to another place for a moments respite.
> "I will be free," she said to herself over and over again. Exhausted she slid down the wall onto the filthy straw mattress.
> ...



Really good, all of this,  Thank you.  I don't often askmyself a direct question like, "How do I want a reader to feel here?"  I just sort of roll with my concepts and decide how I want a CHARACTER to feel.  



gavintonks said:


> he hopped through the fetid rubbish like a bird



I love this line so much.  It's really matching with how I envision the scrawny mage, birdlike.  HAHA


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

anihow can I make a suggestion and ask you to post here as well as the emotional content is important to the context of this thread
It would be interesting to unpack the intensity and the emotional plan, plus of course the 'feelings'
having the plan so to speak and adding emotional iq in a growing path


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

1- no air max 3 minutes
2 - no water max 3 days
3 - no food 22 days

plus you begin to hallucinate and also believe you are fine
if she is there for 36 hours and she is manacled she would have had to pee etc which is also used to humiliate, so her clothing is important 
your mind wanders and you get sleepy so she would be loosing consciousness, it becomes hard to focus
I think the most a person was kept alive being tortured was 55 days


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 2, 2012)

I'd love to.  Here's the second scene which immediately follows the first:

* * *

The nights in the cell were worse than the days.  The sounds from above  told her that she was near the dockyard.  Metal bells clanged on ships  and gulls screeched in the bay.  As Raven made her way to the middle of  the chamber to look up into the night sky her sensitive ears picked up  something curious.

     Outside her cell and down the hall a door opened.

     Raven knelt at her door.  She could hear voices; one of them belonged to Dimata.

     “Have you found anything?” he asked.

     “There was nothing in her room.” said the other voice, “and The  Lion is displeased to have lost his little bird.  He has been asking  questions around town.  We may have to move her.”

     “Her companion, the bard is being questioned by Torvu,” said  Dimata.  “If he doesn’t know anything, we can use him to make her talk.”

     “If she knows anything, I will get it out,” said the other man, “she cannot lie to me.”

     The men were almost at her door, so on quivering knees she crawled back to the mattress.

     The two men entered the cell, Dimata led, followed by a man whose  very presence sent chills up her spine.  His hair was blonde and his  eyes cold blue.  He stood several inches over six feet tall and a  hideous scar ran from his left eye to his jaw.
     He wore a dark cloak over his dark clothing, adding to his frightening appearance.  

     As the strange man approached her, Raven could sense his  aggression.  This is not a man who plays games, she thought to herself.

     Raven stood as he drew near.

     The intimidating man stopped, and Raven fought hard to not show her  fear.  She inclined her chin to meet his gaze.  Silently he studied her  face.

     “Leave us,” he demanded of Dimata, “I will question her alone.”

     Dimata left without a word.  Neither Raven nor the interrogator took any notice of him as he went.  

     Much to Raven’s surprise, the man spoke softly to her, “If you sing for me, little bird, I will free you from your cage.”
     “I do not know the words to the song you wish to hear,” she said.

     “Tell me where the crypt is located,” he said.

     “I cannot,” she said, “I don’t know anything about it.”

     He grabbed her chain in his hand and jerked her forward a step.  “I  warn you not to try my patience,” he growled.  “I want to know where to  find it.”

     “I don’t know,” she said.

     “What town?”

     Raven shook her head.  “I have no guess.  I have never heard of it before.”


     Violently he pushed her, driving her back into the stone wall.  He  pressed his weight upon her body and said, “Surely you do.  Think back  to your childhood.  Where did you live?  What did your parents do for a  living?  What did the land look like?  What town were you raised in?

     His voice was forceful.  Raven wracked her brain at his command.

     “I...,” she stammered, “I never met my parents.  I was raised by an  old woman.  We lived in a cottage near a great forest.  Lode was the  nearest town, but it was quite far.  We barely ever went there.”

     “When I was eleven, I came alone to Brazelton and worked as a  laundress.  I am not a mage’s heir, nor have I any key.  I know nothing  about a crypt or a treasure.”

     She was near to tears despite her efforts to remain composed.  “I  cannot help you find the crypt.  Even if I were the heir, which I am  certain I am not, I remember little of my childhood.  I do not have any  answers to the questions you ask.”
     He let go of her and backed up a few steps.  

     “Dimata will open the crypt.  He is quite obsessed with the treasure within, and quite mad as well.”
     “And yet you work for him,” she said softly.

     “I am a mercenary, little bird.  I work for whoever pays my fee.”

     He took another step away and said, “I’d start thinking up some  answers.  He’s in there now softening up your dearie and when he’s done,  he’ll be back here to get his answers from you.”


     The mercenary turned and left Raven alone in the cell, shaking in the damp darkness.

     She was afraid.  It was obvious that Dimata was a lunatic.  How  would she escape from his dungeon?  And what of poor Martin who had  gotten mixed up in the situation through no fault of his own?

     Raven pulled her skirts up around her legs and sat upon her  mattress attempting to stay warm.  Hunger was making the cold less  manageable, and she worked hard to keep out the nighttime draft.


* * *

Wow, I haven't looked at this scene in a while.  After the earlier comments I'm already looking at it in a new light, and sort of embarrassed to post it without editing, but here it is anyways.  

I'm glad for the opportunity to do this BTW.  This whole sequence has been a problem for me, and it shows so much in my writing.  You can just see how I lacked a little inspiration when writing it.  Thank you guys for illustrating your points on this passage.  I'm excited to see what you all have to say.  I'm going to have to take notes.


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 2, 2012)

gavintonks said:


> anihow can I make a suggestion and ask you to post here as well as the emotional content is important to the context of this thread
> It would be interesting to unpack the intensity and the emotional plan, plus of course the 'feelings'
> having the plan so to speak and adding emotional iq in a growing path



So It's about 3 days she's there for in total.  She is seriously dehydrated and wounded, and her recovery is also an intense time because she's lost blood.  I did research on those subjects and gave her all the proper symptoms that go along with the dehydration and blood loss.


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

I see we have 637 views and stars have no idea what the gold stars mean, but the idea of unpacking scenes in context of emotional creativity is important to the development of engaging scenes and the story flow
1 - the difference between a static scene and an engaging one is emotional iq
2 - how is this achieved
by planning
what does the plan consist of
an emotional characteristic map of your characters and what you wish to convey to the reader
the reader must carry with them the emotional objective of the scene and how they view that piece on information in the broader context of the story
3 - this will then move the story forward [hopefully]


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 2, 2012)

Okay here's the third scene, and I'll warn it's a little graphic.  If you're easily offended, don't read it, but I glossed over the actual rape itself because I thought it was too much to send to an agent.

* * * 

Raven was awakened by a loud clanging at her door.  Someone opened the cell door and entered.  
     She sat up abruptly, rubbing her eyes as they adjusted in the darkness.  

     It was Dimata.  He set the torch he carried into one of the holders  on the wall.  Behind him followed two of his men carrying a well-beaten  Martin, each holding one of his arms.  

     The smell of blood, coppery and warm filled Raven’s nose, turning her empty stomach.  

    Dimata commanded the two guards to chain Martin, and they fitted  manacles, which were chained to the floor, upon his wrists.  The  two-foot chains affixed to each of his hands would not allow him to go  far at all.  He’d not even be able to stand with such short chains.

     Dimata approached Raven.  He violently jerked her to her feet by the front of her dress.

     “I am out of patience with you,” he shouted into her face, spittle  landing on her cheek and chin.  Raven’s knees gave out and she fell to  Dimata’s feet.  Thirst and hunger had made her weak.  She tried to find  her feet again, ashamed by her frailty.

     “Such an insolent bitch!” cried Dimata, pulling her to standing  again.  He brought back his hand and cuffed her hard across the face.

     “Tell me what I want to know!” he shouted at her.

     “I can’t,” she cried, “I don’t know where it is.”

     He slapped her again, sending her back to her knees.  “No more  lies,” he roared, drawing a knife from his belt.  “If you will not talk,  then perhaps your friend would like to.”


     In the dim torchlight Raven could see the damage that had been done  to Martin.  He was battered.  Blood had dried all over his face, making  it impossible to see where it had flowed from.  
     He knelt pathetically, chained to the floor in an awful state.  She  was amazed he was able to even hold himself up after the violence he’d  withstood.  

     Dimata grabbed the chain which ran between her wrists and threw her  to her hands and knees on the floor in front of Martin.  Kneeling  beside her, he held her head up, her chin in his hand; her eyes wide and  her breath quick.

     She knelt face to face with the bloodied bard, her whole body  shaking, frightened beyond all imagination.  Martin briefly glanced into  her eyes before returning his gaze to the floor.  Damn the gods for  their cruelty, thought Raven.  She and Martin were in the lair of a  power-hungry psychopath.  Why had fate dealt her this ugly hand?

     They were already dead, she realized, then.  There was no chance of  leaving.  No matter what she did, Dimata would not let her go.  She  would either die by his hands immediately for not telling him what he  wanted to know, or she would die later, when he finally realized that  she had nothing to tell.

     “Let him go,” she said softly, the words out before she even knew  that she was speaking, “Martin shouldn’t be here.  He has nothing to do  with this.”

     The bard looked up in confusion, but Dimata pulled her up to her  feet again before she could do more than give a brief smile of comfort. 

     “Tell me where it is,” he snarled in her face.

     “I don’t know where it is,” she whimpered, “I told your mercenary everything I knew earlier.  
Please, spare Martin, he cannot help you, surely you know that.  You already have me.  Let him go.”

     Dimata laughed.  He put the long knife against her throat, and then  to Martin said, “Do I have two birdies who cannot sing?  Or will one of  them decide to save the other?”

     Martin flexed his arms, but the heavy chains held him fast.  He glared up at Dimata.


     Raven tried to move away, but Dimata’s knife hand was clumsy, and  her eyes went wide as the blade pressed into her flesh.  Blood ran from  her neck down into her dress.  She took a step backwards, involuntarily,  and soon Dimata held her fast again.

     He slid the blade into the front of her dress.  Pressing downwards,  he slowly, one by one cut the buttons off, leaving the front hanging  open and Raven shivering.

     He brought the knife up and caressed her cheek with it.  “Someone is going to start talking,” he growled into her ear.

     Raven tried to pull from his grasp.

     “Where are you going?” he demanded, grabbing her by the back of the neck.  “I didn’t tell you to move.”

     He pointed the knife at her throat again and began unbuckling his belt.  

     Raven struggled, the knife’s point drew blood from the soft  underside of her jaw.  “Please,” she whimpered, “I don’t know anything.”

     He unbuttoned his codpiece.  “More’s the pity,” he said callously,  “but your friend does, and I’ve been unable to convince him to spill it.   Perhaps you will have better luck than I did.”

     He ripped the front of her shirt open, buttons flying everywhere,  and he forced her to the floor, his hand crushing her windpipe as he  held the knife with the other.  She gasped for breath. 
     She felt the cold steel run along the side of her neck as she lay  on the floor.  Any sudden movement might cause her greater injury.  She  tried to hold still, though she shivered and shook.
     Dimata straddled her as he played his blade across her exposed  body.  She closed her eyes so she did not have to watch the mad delight  in his eyes.   He brought the blade over her bared breasts and she  flinched.  He laughed.

     “Stop it!” she shouted, “get off of me.”  She tried to roll him off  of her.  He briefly lost his balance and his knife sliced across her  ribs.  She cried out in pain as blood ran from the wound.  “Get off of  me,” Raven screamed as she kicked her feet, attempting to free herself  from his weight.
     Dimata laughed again.

     As she struggled, he spun around atop her and began cutting off her  linen knickers.  “Stop!” she cried, “what are you doing?”

     When he was done, he threw the linen scraps and forced his way between her thighs.  

     What followed was a humiliating and mortifying display of his  domination over her weakened body.  Raven struggled initially, but after  taking a couple blows from his heavy fists, she relented to the abuse.


     Though Raven had a few times given her body to men unwillingly, she  had never been violently raped before.  She knew that it was an  experience which stayed with a woman forever, but then, she was strong,  tempered by the streets of Brazelton.  

     She took herself to her sanctuary at Lion’s.  She imagined her  green walls and embroidered bedding.  Her eternal summer filled her  mind.  She heard the familiar tune which she loved and Cherie’s laugh as  she played with the little music box.  

     “You are even sweeter than I thought you’d be,” said Dimata, “and  never mind your plain appearances; your accommodating flesh makes up for  it.”

     Raven felt like vomiting.  She tried to push him away with her  hands, but he held her down to the floor, his face right on top of hers.   She turned her head to the side so that she’d not have his breath in  her face.

     “That’s right,” he purred, “I know just what you like.”  He grabbed  a handful of her hair and pulled hard, turning her face right around to  face Martin.  “Your tightness is a pleasant surprise,” he hissed in her  ear, “for one who has probably been ridden hard in her life.  If only  all whores could please a man so much as you do.”

     His breath beat her about the face as he grunted into her ear,  thrusting harder against her though she held her thighs as tightly as  she could.  It was the ultimate cruelness, but she felt relieved when  she felt his release and prayed that he’d leave her on the floor and not  touch her again. 

     Though Raven had had to relent to the abuse, she had not allowed  him what he really wanted from her.  She had not cried out or begged.   Indeed, when Dimata rose from her she still did not move or make a  sound.


     “What think you now?”  Dimata shouted, buttoning his codpiece and buckling his belt, “have you still nothing to say to me?”

     Raven thought he was speaking to her, her eyes still closed, but  when she opened them, she realized that he hovered over the kneeling  bard.  Martin’s head hung, his gaze upon the grimy stone floor where  Raven’s blood had spilled.  

     When Martin still said nothing, Dimata kicked him in the ribs twice  and then punched him in the side of the head, knocking him cold.   Martin crumpled onto the stone floor, face first.

     Dimata left the cell, his guards in tow, taking the torch with them.


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 2, 2012)

gavintonks said:


> I see we have 637 views and stars have no idea what the gold stars mean, but the idea of unpacking scenes in context of emotional creativity is important to the development of engaging scenes and the story flow
> 1 - the difference between a static scene and an engaging one is emotional iq
> 2 - how is this achieved
> by planning
> ...



I completely agree.  And sometimes I write scenes which I'm very proud of.  This sequence is not one of them.  I cut it up about a year ago because I thought it was too graphic, but then I never really touched it because it didn't move me, you know?

I really need to learn how to slip the right sort of emotion in at the right times to make a scene like this have maximum impact so I can cut out the erroneous words.  HA! Luckily I'm not too proud to post a scene I know is poorly executed.  Hey, this is how I learn, and I appreciate that you are taking the time to teach.


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

I went through hell and back and read some big sellers to find they made the same mistakes but then went back to classics and the penny dropped, they plan the emotional tags to the sentences, and if you watch AI you will see how Kubric weaves emotion into each set, it is almost another movie the way he crafts the emotions 

I sometimes despair when I realize how many times I have read and corrected and get to a place and think how the hell did i miss this


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

The nights in the cell were worse than the days. The sounds from above told her that she was near the dockyard. Metal bells clanged on ships and gulls screeched in the bay. As Raven made her way to the middle of the chamber to look up into the night sky her sensitive ears picked up something curious.

Start from a point 
waking groggily from her stupor, on the filthy mattress, she was shivering, and the midnight sky refused to tell her what time it was.
she ached in every muscle, her face throbbed, and from far away she head a gong, 'must be my funeral she thought," until she realized it was the harbor bell.
 timing she would hear the noises from the time she was incarcerated
seagull sleep at night if I remember unless their is strong light

Outside her cell and down the hall a door opened.
she could not know thi she would only be aware of a noise

Raven knelt at her door. She could hear voices; one of them belonged to Dimata.
the place is so still she probably could hear from her mattress,

she recognized Diamata voiceF“Have you found anything?” she knew that snivelly whine anywhere.
Imagine the character talking and how you would describe the reaction their words bring



“There was nothing in her room.” said the other voice, “and The Lion is displeased to have lost his little bird. He has been asking questions around town. We may have to move her.”
This seems vague as which room are you referring too?
I like the rest its conspiratorial, then think of a emotional ending of how to describe the tome of voice, I could just catch the words as he dropped to a whisper
his words sounded a little tense, he was genuinely concerned about the lion finding out about him
I sear their was fear in his word,s it gave Raven hope and a bit more fire to hang on she had hope


“Her companion, the bard is being questioned by Torvu,” said Dimata. “If he doesn’t know anything, we can use him to make her talk.”
look at time as well, I am waiting for the information from the other interrogation
maybe she should hear some screams from he Bard and she feels bad for bringing him into to this
“If she knows anything, I will get it out,” said the other man, “she cannot lie to me.”

The emotion
groggy
tired
helpless
hears voices gets some hop
pain and aches, bruised resolve to keep going
time night 

The men were almost at her door, so on quivering knees she crawled back to the mattress.
she pulled herself up against the wall she did not want them to think she was beaten
as being tired would be difficult to get to the mattress in time / distance from opening the door

The two men entered the cell, Dimata led, followed by a man whose very presence sent chills up her spine. His hair was blonde and his eyes cold blue. He stood several inches over six feet tall and a hideous scar ran from his left eye to his jaw.
He wore a dark cloak over his dark clothing, adding to his frightening appearance.
Dimata flustered into the cell, the guard held the door so he did not have to touch anything
he glared at her, bring her here I am not getting my shoes filthy again
The two guards grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her roughly to her feet, her blood screamed through her veins and pins and needles made her cry from pain. her muscles locked and bunched from of use as she tried to conserve her energy  
tears of pain welled in her eyes and she let out a breath, "if ever I felt like dying its now' she thought, nothing could be worse than this

raven lifted herself and staggered with them refusing to allow them to drag her aching body, with as much dignity as she could muster she looked into the raid damins eyes. 
he laughed at her and stepped aside, it was unexpected and caught her breath, in her throat, this was not possible, just when she had hope he killed it, she knew now her life was in gods hands and this odious man - the butcher of camelin - hse knew his reputation and recognized him from the scar that puckered a sneer from his damaged lips. His teeth showed from the ugly  healed and torn flesh.

i have no idea who the pov is so I am just rambling
 she did not excpet sAs the strange man approached her, Raven could sense his aggression. This is not a man who plays games, she thought to herself.

Raven stood as he drew near.

# he smiled and her heart froze, she said in a whisper, "you cannot intimidate me.' her voice was rough, but she knew he was not convinced. A abrasive laugh was her answer as the idiot mage cackled with glee he knew he had her 

The intimidating man stopped, and Raven fought hard to not show her fear. She inclined her chin to meet his gaze. Silently he studied her face.

$ try and avoid man - it is impersonal give the characters substance
the guard pulled her head back, she gasped between her teeth, but could do nothing, the butcher studied her his next piece of meat, he studied her what he was going to cut
she tried to stare him down but those ice blue eyes held no emotions and no care for any human,- she knew the meaning now of ice blue eyes

“Leave us,” he demanded of Dimata, “I will question her alone.”

# you have one more chance or he will get what I want to know, :his words were stark and she knew he had won. The butcher leered at her, he dropped his tongue so it fell over his teeth and clogged he hole of his missing lip.
raven had never seen anything so bestial in the form of a man 

Dimata left without a word. Neither Raven nor the interrogator took any notice of him as he went.


4 need silent affirmation with body language
he knew what D wanted and, her silence was acknowledgement to proceed

Much to Raven’s surprise, the man spoke softly to her, “If you sing for me, little bird, I will free you from your cage.”
“I do not know the words to the song you wish to hear,” she said.

“Tell me where the crypt is located,” he said.

“I cannot,” she said, “I don’t know anything about it.”

He grabbed her chain in his hand and jerked her forward a step. “I warn you not to try my patience,” he growled. “I want to know where to find it.”

The guards still held her head back, he gently removed his hand and replaced it with his, he was a huge man, and she felt small and helpless in his arms, he leand over she smelt his sopa, he was clean, he did not even wrinkle his nose at her smell, he pushed his face right next to her ear, she could hear the snuffling air drawn through his damaged lips, he spoke clearly despite the impediment, and sighed in her ear, she felt she was the only thing in his life, 'litle bird.'he whispered. his compulsion wormed its way into hr, she desperately wanted to please him,"little bird," he whispered again and then easily held her in one hand, he drew a small vial and dropped some sweet moisture on her lips. the delicate smoothness was out of place, it intoxicated and she relaxed feeling distant, 'little bird he said agin and she whispered back yes

you may leave us now he instructed the guards  
“I don’t know,” she said.

“What town?”

Raven shook her head. “I have no guess. I have never heard of it before.”


Violently he pushed her, driving her back into the stone wall. He pressed his weight upon her body and said, “Surely you do. Think back to your childhood. Where did you live? What did your parents do for a living? What did the land look like? What town were you raised in?

His voice was forceful. Raven wracked her brain at his command.

“I...,” she stammered, “I never met my parents. I was raised by an old woman. We lived in a cottage near a great forest. Lode was the nearest town, but it was quite far. We barely ever went there.”

“When I was eleven, I came alone to Brazelton and worked as a laundress. I am not a mage’s heir, nor have I any key. I know nothing about a crypt or a treasure.”

She was near to tears despite her efforts to remain composed. “I cannot help you find the crypt. Even if I were the heir, which I am certain I am not, I remember little of my childhood. I do not have any answers to the questions you ask.”
He let go of her and backed up a few steps. 


litl ebird I need to know your secret, little bird I need to know you tale, he sang and it was so sweet, she did not understand whn he slapped her and the stinging pain brought her back to his eyes, he smiled Little bird it was harsh a vulture and she the prey


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

so 2 is the emotion of loneliness
pain
hope
and then being crushed by things you did not expect or could not control


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

dreaming oif freedom and running on green grass she smelt the flowers, and then a pain in her face made her wake up, One of the guards took out his dagger and slit her dress so that it fell to her feet, 2 woman came in and bather her aching body, and washed her her. the joy of being clean was short lived as the guard threw a bucket of cold water over her, she woke instantly and realized her predicament.

They threw a robe over her to stop the shivering and left
the manacles had drawn blood and a trickle mixed with the water and the soap stung her wounds bringing her mind back into focus
a clatter and noise was harsh against her ears after the silence, and she slid back down the wall when the door opened and Martin was dragged inside manacled and beaten. Four men manhandled him and chained him to the wall and tied a leather strap against his neck and head so he could only see her. he roared and flexed but could do nothing he was helpless

Damien had planks brought in and placed across the filth so he could walk up to her, the guards stayed 3 on either side of the room witnesses to her, 'what is he up to now.' she thought
he held a small basket of treats, her stomach rumbled and she realized how hungry they made her, he placed  small delicate translucent powder covered delicacy on her cracked and parched lips,  
"her mind wanted more she tried to turn away but he motioned for a guard to hold her, the sweet melted into her lips and mouth, her cuts and cracks healed, she could speak again, she wanted more, she felt betrayed by her body
the glazed look in her eyes passed and she saw things so clearly now.  
he gave the basket o the guard to hold, he still held the back of her neck the cold steel of his gauntlet hand made her realize the danger she was in

he ran his hand along her shoulder and slipped under the cloth of her robe,and slowly rounded the arch of her shoulder so the cloth fell in a puff of elegant cloth so out of place her,
she could not move her hands manacled and her neck held, too weak to do anything but her mind was alive

she was used to being naked but here in front of all these men part of her just did not care and another was affronted as it was not her choice
she felt hot, her belly warmed and heat rose within her,
he looked at her accusingly, see what you make me do, you see I have no choice
he violently slapped his cupped hand between her legs, the violence was senseless unnecessary and violating, she tried to squirm but the hand held her hard, 'no" she whispered, no please not this I dont know anything i swear,
she felt like collapsing, but she was held transfixed. martin moaned and started shouting, but his muffle was all she could hear as thy stuffed a gag in his mouth

he explored her with his filthy mage hand she felt violated, she wanted to bite run away but all her wants were impossible.
she tried to struggle but it just made him wors, he lapped her and the stinging sound reverberated through her drugged mind, it was futile, he smiled and whispered to her, tell me your story and I will let you go

she detached her mind it was all she could do, she thought of other things as he forced himself into her, the pain was nothing compared to the ache in her hands and arns as the guard held her hands above her head
she cried, and her mind wanted to hide wrap itself in a blanket and just die

his thrusts grew more urgent until he panted in her ear and against her hair, what would make a person do this want to do this, she saw the smirk on the guards face


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

the violation
where your mind goes to deal with these things
the humiliation 
pain
despondency
anger 
outrage
becoming a victim accepting /not accepting and then resolve


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

as one can see the three scenes although the characters engage for say 5 minutes, 10 minutes and then 20 minutes it is actually a very long time but choosing the right words and sequence can crate a gripping episode - the emotional iq is what we think of last instead of planning it with the structure and outline of the writing


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## gavintonks (Jun 2, 2012)

Martin wept in silence, his eyes reflected the damage they had done, he would never be the same, they had damaged him and they would pay


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## Caged Maiden (Jun 2, 2012)

So here's the conclusion of the scene then:



     It was several moments later that she dared to move.  The sounds of the footsteps had completely faded, and she knew that she was again alone.

     She pulled her dress closed as well as she could and pressed the cloth to her ribs.  The bleeding slowed, and she crawled to Martin’s side to see to him.  She put her hand gently to his head.  He barely breathed, still unconscious.  Using what little strength she had, she rolled Martin onto his side to assess the damage.

     His face was a mess, his nose broken, both eyes bruised and cut and swelling, and a sizable cut on the bridge of his nose which had bled profusely.

     Despite his face being covered with blood, two fresh white lines cut down his cheeks where recently shed tears had washed away the blood.  She gasped.  He had wept for her.

     Raven collected the linen scraps of her knickers off of the floor and sucked on the corners.  Cradling Martin’s head gently in her lap, she carefully wiped the blood from his face.

     When Martin finally awoke, the sky was just beginning to lighten.  “What time is it?” he asked, groggily, his head still resting upon her crossed legs.

     “Perhaps an hour ‘ere dawn,” she said, soothingly.  She brushed the hair away from his eyes softly with her fingertips, “the bells chimed four quite a while ago.”

     “Come,” he said, rising.  “We need to get out of here.”

     Raven set down the blood-tinged scraps of linen and said, “There is no way out, Martin, I have tried.”  She held her dress closed with one hand, while she stuffed the bloody linen scraps against her own wound.

     Her voice was weak and raspy from thirst.  “I’ve been here for days with no food or water.  I have no energy left from trying to get out.”


     Martin winced in pain as he knelt on his hands and knees before her.  His ribs were probably broken, she thought.  Dimata had not held back with his heavy boots.

     “Oh gods!” Raven gasped, bringing her hands to cover her face, “what have they done to you?”

     The hopelessness of their situation became very real to her all of a sudden.  Tears attempted to fall from her painfully dry eyes.  She and Martin were beaten and battered.  How could they hope to escape?

     “I’m so sorry,” she wept, wiping her tearless, stinging eyes with the sleeves of her filthy dress.  “I‘m so sorry that you are here, Martin.  You should not be.  Gods! If you’d not tried to defend me.... you’d not be here bleeding and.....”

     “Do not waste your tears on me,” he said quietly, not bothering to take his eyes off the floor in front of him, “I am not worth it.”

     She crouched next to him and put her hand gently upon his back, “You’re very seriously injured,” she said.  “We cannot hope to escape.  We are hardly strong enough to crawl, let alone break our chains and scale the wall.  If we cannot find a way to talk our way out of here, I’m afraid our fates are sealed.”

     “No,” insisted Martin, “I can get us out of here.”

     Raven shook her head.  She had tried to climb the walls, and it was impossible with her hands bound.  How could Martin hope to escape with his two wrists shackled to the floor?  The chains could not be broken.

     “How?” she asked, “you are in no condition to move.  Your ribs are probably broken.  You may be bleeding internally.”

     Martin began unbuckling his belt and pulled it from his trousers.  He handed it to her, “Here,” he said, “belt your dress closed, we are going to have to climb out.”

     She took it and looked confused.  Was he oblivious to the fact that he was chained to the floor?

     She belted her dress closed as he’d asked, glad at least for the warmth.  The morning air was freezing.  She sat back down and looked up at the grate above.  It was so high up.  Truly, it was impossible to reach, even if her hands had not been bound.
     “Martin,” she said, “I cannot make it.  I cannot climb the wall.  I have no strength left.”

     “Shhh,” he shushed her.

     In the dark they listened.  There were voices coming from down the hall.

     “I can bring the girl up to my office if you wish to have a bit of fun before you go,” said Dimata.

     “No,” said the blonde mercenary, that had interrogated her earlier; she recognized his voice.  “I am not interested in ****ing your prisoner.  I have already questioned her.  She has no knowledge of the crypt.”

     “So she says,” snapped Dimata.

     “She does not know,” insisted the mercenary.

     Raven’s heart fluttered with momentary hope.  Perhaps if they knew that she spoke the truth they would let her go.  There was still a chance to hope for.

     “Then she is useless,” said Dimata.

     “No, “said the mercenary, “if she is the heir she alone can open the crypt now that the key is destroyed.”

     “But I thought she had the key.”

     “She may _be_ the key.  But, if that is the case, she will only be useful if we can locate the crypt, and right now, we do not even know which town to begin looking in.”

     “Question the other prisoner,” suggested Dimata.

     “The bard that you stole from the Don? Why?” asked the mercenary.  “I thought he was mistakenly captured with the girl.”
     “He was,” admitted Dimata quietly, “but now I am sure he knows something.”  

     “That’s ridiculous.  How could he?”

     “I don’t know, but he does.”

     “That’s impossible.”  

     “Torvu said that he has not uttered a word since arriving,” said Dimata.  “How many men say nothing after a visit with Torvu?”
     Silence. 

     “An innocent man would have been begging Torvu’s mercy before he had to bring out his toys.”

     “How far did he go?” the mercenary asked in a low tone.

     “Far enough.”

     “Then the man is probably in shock.  Torvu is too heavy-handed for interrogation.  You cannot read too far into this.  Torvu has killed men too quickly before.”

     “I told him if that happens again he is out of a job!” snapped Dimata.  “Question the bard and find out for yourself.  I’m sure he knows about the crypt.”

     “If you wish, I’ll interrogate him; later,” agreed the mercenary, “though I believe it will be fruitless.”

      “It doesn’t matter,” said Dimata, “Use what force is necessary.  If we can’t get him to talk to save his life, then he dies.”

     The door closed again and the footsteps moved further away.

     Raven looked at Martin.  “They mean to return to finish the job with you,” she whispered, frantically.  “Martin, he’s going to kill you,” she hissed, “if you can get out, then do it.  You may be able to use the pin from your belt to pick your locks.”

     “We must go together,” he said with conviction.

     “I can’t,” she shook her head, “even if my hands were freed, I couldn’t climb the wall.   My hands have turned feeble.  They shake constantly now, and not from cold.”

     “Then I will carry you,” he said sternly.

     “You can’t,” she sighed.  “Leave me here.  I am too heavy to carry and it would be stupid for you to try if you are certain that you can climb the wall.  I will only slow you down and ruin both of our chances.  Here, pick your locks.”

     Martin grabbed her hand as she went to unbuckle the belt.  His grip was firm but not unkind.  Raven looked down at his bloody hands and then back to his battered face.  He must be in unimaginable pain.  How could he still fight?  

     “I can get us both out of here,” he said quietly, “but I demand your word that you will never speak of this to anyone.”

     She tried to pull her hand back, but his grip was like steel.  She was unable to free her wrist from his grasp, the chains jingling as she tried.  “You’re frightening me, Martin,” she said, pulling on her hand, “let go of me.”

     He hung his head and released her.  “Logan,” he said with a sigh.

     “What?” she asked.

     “My name is not Martin,” he said, shaking his head as if he did not yet understand why he was saying those words to her.  “I am not a bard.  My name is Logan, and I am Sayan, a shape shifter.”

     “Shape shifter?” she asked.

     “I am telling you this so you are not frightened,” he continued, as he unbuttoned and took off his bloody shirt, letting it slide onto the chains, cuffs first.  His ribs already showed extensive deep purple bruising from Dimata’s ruthlessness.  

     He unbuttoned his trousers and slipped out of them, then handed them to her.

     “What are you doing?” she asked nervously.

     “Saving my clothes from being destroyed,” he said.  “Keep them for me, we may have to run when we reach the top.”

     She stared silently, not sure what she was supposed to say.

     He knelt, completely nude before her in the stone cell.  “Swear it,” he said, his head down, and his eyes closed.  “Our secrets keep us alive.  Swear you’ll keep my secret.”

     “I swear it,” she said, nervously kneeling in front of him.

     He nodded and aid, “Don’t be frightened, this is our only way out.”  His back arched even before he’d finished his sentence.  His naked body trembled as though wracked with horrific pain.  Raven backed away and watched, terrified, as Logan’s muscles flexed and bulged.  His eyes were tightly shut; whether from pain or embarrassment, she could not tell.  His hands and feet became massive deadly claws and his skin transformed into thick fur.  His face changed into a great, frightening canine muzzle, his ears pointed and long.  His coat was deepest black, like a moonless night.


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## gavintonks (Jun 3, 2012)

anihow said:


> So here's the conclusion of the scene then:
> 
> 
> 
> ...


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## gavintonks (Jun 3, 2012)

“How?” she asked, “you are in no condition to move.  Your ribs are probably broken.  You may be bleeding internally.”

     Martin began unbuckling his belt and pulled it from his trousers.  He handed it to her, “Here,” he said, “belt your dress closed, we are going to have to climb out.”

     She took it and looked confused.  Was he oblivious to the fact that he was chained to the floor?

     She belted her dress closed as he’d asked, glad at least for the warmth.  The morning air was freezing.  She sat back down and looked up at the grate above.  It was so high up.  Truly, it was impossible to reach, even if her hands had not been bound.
     “Martin,” she said, “I cannot make it.  I cannot climb the wall.  I have no strength left.”

     “Shhh,” he shushed her.

     In the dark they listened.  There were voices coming from down the hall.

jump in action
timing how long and when are they that they hear this conversation

     “I can bring the girl up to my office if you wish to have a bit of fun before you go,” said Dimata.

     “No,” said the blonde mercenary, that had interrogated her earlier; she recognized his voice.  “I am not interested in ****ing your prisoner.  I have already questioned her.  She has no knowledge of the crypt.”

another no name brand blond mercenary we do not form emotional bonds with no names

     “So she says,” snapped Dimata.

     “She does not know,” insisted the mercenary.

     Raven’s heart fluttered with momentary hope.  Perhaps if they knew that she spoke the truth they would let her go.  There was still a chance to hope for.

     “Then she is useless,” said Dimata.

     “No, “said the mercenary, “if she is the heir she alone can open the crypt now that the key is destroyed.”

     “But I thought she had the key.”

     “She may _be_ the key.  But, if that is the case, she will only be useful if we can locate the crypt, and right now, we do not even know which town to begin looking in.”

3 rhey cannot be walking for such a long dialogue
should be outside the door
what tension do you wish to set up in the emotional dialogue
you have started with hope for release
but then she must release there is no release they want the key

     “Question the other prisoner,” suggested Dimata.

     “The bard that you stole from the Don? Why?” asked the mercenary.  “I thought he was mistakenly captured with the girl.”
     “He was,” admitted Dimata quietly, “but now I am sure he knows something.”  

     “That’s ridiculous.  How could he?”

     “I don’t know, but he does.”

     “That’s impossible.”  

     “Torvu said that he has not uttered a word since arriving,” said Dimata.  “How many men say nothing after a visit with Torvu?”
     Silence. 

     “An innocent man would have been begging Torvu’s mercy before he had to bring out his toys.”

     “How far did he go?” the mercenary asked in a low tone.

     “Far enough.”

     “Then the man is probably in shock.  Torvu is too heavy-handed for interrogation.  You cannot read too far into this.  Torvu has killed men too quickly before.”

     “I told him if that happens again he is out of a job!” snapped Dimata.  “Question the bard and find out for yourself.  I’m sure he knows about the crypt.”

     “If you wish, I’ll interrogate him; later,” agreed the mercenary, “though I believe it will be fruitless.”

      “It doesn’t matter,” said Dimata, “Use what force is necessary.  If we can’t get him to talk to save his life, then he dies.”

     The door closed again and the footsteps moved further away.

     Raven looked at Martin.  “They mean to return to finish the job with you,” she whispered, frantically.  “Martin, he’s going to kill you,” she hissed, “if you can get out, then do it.  You may be able to use the pin from your belt to pick your locks.”

     “We must go together,” he said with conviction.

     “I can’t,” she shook her head, “even if my hands were freed, I couldn’t climb the wall.   My hands have turned feeble.  They shake constantly now, and not from cold.”

     “Then I will carry you,” he said sternly.

     “You can’t,” she sighed.  “Leave me here.  I am too heavy to carry and it would be stupid for you to try if you are certain that you can climb the wall.  I will only slow you down and ruin both of our chances.  Here, pick your locks.”

     Martin grabbed her hand as she went to unbuckle the belt.  His grip was firm but not unkind.  Raven looked down at his bloody hands and then back to his battered face.  He must be in unimaginable pain.  How could he still fight?  

     “I can get us both out of here,” he said quietly, “but I demand your word that you will never speak of this to anyone.”

     She tried to pull her hand back, but his grip was like steel.  She was unable to free her wrist from his grasp, the chains jingling as she tried.  “You’re frightening me, Martin,” she said, pulling on her hand, “let go of me.”

     He hung his head and released her.  “Logan,” he said with a sigh.

     “What?” she asked.

     “My name is not Martin,” he said, shaking his head as if he did not yet understand why he was saying those words to her.  “I am not a bard.  My name is Logan, and I am Sayan, a shape shifter.”

     “Shape shifter?” she asked.

     “I am telling you this so you are not frightened,” he continued, as he unbuttoned and took off his bloody shirt, letting it slide onto the chains, cuffs first.  His ribs already showed extensive deep purple bruising from Dimata’s ruthlessness.  

     He unbuttoned his trousers and slipped out of them, then handed them to her.

     “What are you doing?” she asked nervously.

     “Saving my clothes from being destroyed,” he said.  “Keep them for me, we may have to run when we reach the top.”

     She stared silently, not sure what she was supposed to say.

     He knelt, completely nude before her in the stone cell.  “Swear it,” he said, his head down, and his eyes closed.  “Our secrets keep us alive.  Swear you’ll keep my secret.”

     “I swear it,” she said, nervously kneeling in front of him.

     He nodded and said, “Don’t be frightened, this is our only way out.”  His back arched even before he’d finished his sentence.  His naked body trembled as though wracked with horrific pain.  Raven backed away and watched, terrified, as Logan’s muscles flexed and bulged.  His eyes were tightly shut; whether from pain or embarrassment, she could not tell.  His hands and feet became massive deadly claws and his skin transformed into thick fur.  His face changed into a great, frightening canine muzzle, his ears pointed and long.  His coat was deepest black, like a moonless night.[/QUOTE]

the other point is you can labour the story with too much information
we know they want the key and are not getting it
characters know lives and freedom at stake
what is key to the story
the butcher is not he has done his job so threatening his job has no bearing to the story, it becomes something you wish to say
be direct the guy wants something he has raped for it, he is in charge and has victims which makes him happy


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## gavintonks (Jun 3, 2012)

we also need to unpack the statements
she knew the chains could not be broken why?
there is magic
they need a key
challenging the reader with a statement requires qualification and then the solution enhances the story


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## Reaver (Jun 4, 2012)

anihow said:


> I think it's a question of experience that's been brought up here.  When young people write, we begin with concepts, and make out a world that is very detailed.  And then it's almost a compulsion to find places to enter all the clever details it took so long to invent.  I am guilty of it too, and when I look back on my first few novels, they aren't nearly as clever as I had imagined, but long and boring.  I mean, who cares whether my dwarves have a very clever state-of-the art plumbing system with flush toilets underground?  It's boring to write a scene in which they are used...
> 
> While I agree that a certain amount of world-building is necessary, an author needs to keep in mind whether every detail needs to make it to second draft.



Very well said, anihow!  After reading some of your stories, it's abundantly clear that you have a passion for writing that is mostly lacking in today's fiction.


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## gavintonks (Jun 5, 2012)

Yes Anihow has wrapped it up in a paragraph


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## gavintonks (Jun 5, 2012)

so do we continue with emotional iq or does the thread come to an end?
is anyone else willing to look at the story from an emotional content perspective as ther are many possibilities if we change the emotions?
or another story any volunteers?


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## gavintonks (Jun 5, 2012)

and of course to leave some of the imagination to the reader so they can form their own pictures as that is what people are buying into, being able to make the world their own in the context of the story.How many people tried to make Lord of the Rings over the years as there was never enough detail until Peter came along and captured the essence of bits of vision that retained the ability of the reader to hold onto their imagination within the context of the story


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