900 words - need a skill boost

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barrett1987

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It's been months since i wrote anything. I've just started teacher training (PGCE) and its an intense year so i've slacked on the writing. Anyways, halfterm is this week so i've had some time. I sat down and wrote the following. Its the first part of a chapter and i'm looking for fresh eyes to get the brain ticking again. I feel like im out of practice in what to look for regarding my own work.

So any help would be great. :)

-------------------------

Aaeron closed his eyes and leaned forward, pushing his forehead hard into the thick wood door. How long had it been since he’d last seen his brother? Ten years? Twelve? Long enough to think that part of his life was over. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the note in his hand and breathed a curse then threw the paper into a bin a few feet away.

“Problem?” Derron called from behind.

Taking a deep breath, he forced one of his best smiles onto his face and turned and faced the room. “Nothing to worry about.”

Derron, laying half submerged in the covers of a large four poster bed, smiled at him. “Are you sure? You look upset.”

Aaeron forced his smile wider and showed some teeth. “Then you can cheer me up.” His bare feet slapped on the floor’s cool tiling as he crossed the room. He paused at the edge of the bed and looked down at the young man lying before him. Beautiful, definitely, but also vapid and vain. If he wasn’t Councillor Metra’s latest squeeze then he’d be pointless. “Where were we?” He reached beneath the covers and grabbed an ankle. “Ahh, I remember, something about a footrub…”

“Ahh, there’s the Aaeron I know and love,” Derron giggled, falling back with a dramatic sigh.

He began to massage the foot. Three months invested and still no useful gossip. Pillow talk could take time, he knew this, it was a long con but it would be a lot more enjoyable if his mark wasn’t such a complete bore. Night after night spent listening to gossip about clothes, shows and music but absolutely nothing about the Councillor and her plans. If he had to endure one more discussion on stitching patterns, he’d tear his hair out.

“Ahh, that’s the spot.” Derron’s voice floated from the tangle of white sheets and Aaeron resisted a scowl. Of course it’s the spot. Even an amateur could find the spot by now. He dug his thumb into the ball of the foot, eliciting a low groan from his mark. And I’m far from an amateur.

While his hands did their work, he gazed around the ghastly room. How anyone lived in this mess was beyond him. The room was a clutter of furniture that served no real function. The chairs too narrow to sit on, the desks slanted and warped as to make writing impossible, it was chaos. Fashion in the Capital changed quicker than the seasons and the recent spartan style was waning, replaced with an affluence of decoration that got worst every week. The current trend seemed to be that if the furniture in your room wasn’t functional then it was fashionable and creatures like Derron would die before they’d be considered unfashionable.

He released the foot and grabbed the second. I’ll give it a few more weeks, if he hasn’t given me anything of use by then I’ll move on.

A loud bang came from downstairs. Aaeron froze. Raised voices followed by heavy steps on the stairs. sh*t. The running footsteps, more than one person for sure, reached the top of the stairs and grew louder as they rushed down the corridor towards the bedroom door. He sprang from the bed and slammed the door’s bolt home just before someone struck the other side.

“Open up. In the name of Councillor Metra, open up.”

“f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.” He backed away from the door, hands on his head. “f*ck!”

Derron sat up, eyes wide in a stark white face, so at odds with his usual tanned complexion. “Aaeron, she knows!”

“Shut up,” he hissed, chopping the air with his hand. “She doesn’t know a damn thing.” He grabbed his clothes from the floor and started to pull on his trousers. “If they don’t see me, then I wasn’t here.” Lower half covered, he slipped on his shirt, ignoring the buttons for now.

The banging on the door matched the beating of his heart and he raced to the closed window, flinging the shutters open. The crowded streets flowed beneath him. No one looked up. People soon learnt to mind their own business in these parts. He scanned the narrow nearby ledges, looking for a way down.

Something heavy hit the door behind. “Open up!”

Aaeron spun. Derron was on his feet, swaying, thin white sheet wrapped around him, his only shield to what was coming through that door. He strode across the room, knocking chairs and stools aside and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Listen to me. If I’m not here, then I was never here. You understanding me, Derron?”

“Yes, yes,” Derron replied, eyes locked on the door. “Not here, wasn’t here. But-”

Another heavy strike rattled the door and the wooden frame splintered.

It was time to go. He twisted and ran for the window. Throwing himself through the gap as the bedroom door finally caved, he twisted and shot out a hand, grabbing the old teleline. The wire dug into his hand but before he could scream, his upper body snapped back and instead of slamming headfirst two storeys into the dirt, he dropped lightly to his feet with nothing more than a sore shoulder to show for it.

Heart thumping in his chest, he pushed his way into the streets throng. Barefoot, shirt hanging loose and hunched over, he faked a limp and allowed the crowds flow to pull him away from the Derron’s apartments.

Shouts from the room filled the air and he could just make out Derron’s raised voice, demanding to know what was going on. Aaeron smiled. The boy was a good actor. He’d be fine. He reached a street corner and risked a glance back. Two Constables in their bright red tunics stood in the window, scanning the street. He turned away, feeling the tension in his shoulders leaving him. They’d never spot him now.

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This chapter will be 3k ish, so this is the first third and the first time you meet Aaeron. I'd love to know thoughts. any and all. Thank you for the time.
 
I like a lot of your use of words, but the character experience shows as undeveloped at this stage - which is probably inevitable in a first draft.

And while you do set the stakes, I'm struggling to get an idea of context - ie, world, and time, that this story is presented in.

Btw, what did you do with your Stranger MS?
 
It's a little confusing in places. I'll get to explaining where later.

More world building and context would be helpful.

However, I loved your characters. Despite the awkward situation and my head saying I shouldn't like Aaeron -- I do. And I like Derren - I'm hoping he's not canon fodder. The voice and tone of the piece is fab and quite fast paced. And that dialogue is great.
 
I liked this better than some of the finished pieces of Stranger.

There are some things you might think about working on. such as::
Aaeron forced his smile wider and showed some teeth.

Might flow better turned on it's head a bit.

Aaeron forced a wider smile with more teeth.

Good for a start having me wondering , knowing the thoughts in Aaeron's head, how I like both of these characters.
 
I though it was good. Aaeron thought and emotions came across pretty well to me and I liked it (thinking of his brother, forcing his smile, the resisted scowl for the foot rub, etc.).

My impression was he is either a spy (working for who?) or he was trying to find information on his brother. Maybe a little more info might help here, but that's just my thoughts.

There were a few spots that I had to read twice to figure out who was doing/saying what. For example:

“Ahh, that’s the spot.” Derron’s voice floated from the tangle of white sheets and Aaeron resisted a scowl. Of course it’s the spot. Even an amateur could find the spot by now. He dug his thumb into the ball of the foot, eliciting a low groan from his mark. And I’m far from an amateur.

Derron starts the paragraph, but we move into Aaeron's head for some of his thoughts. I recommend starting a new paragraph at the "and" before Aaeron resisted a scowl.

From ...“Open up. In the name of Councillor Metra, open up.”...downward, alot of the conversations use "He" pronouns. with only two males in the room, this gets confusing and I had to slow down to track who was doing what. I recommend throwing in a name inplace of a few of them. For example: ...“f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.” He backed away from the door, hands on his head. “f*ck!” ... I assumed this was Aaeron because Derron had the next line (I didn't like having to backfill that in my mind)

I agree with some of the other, some of the worldly setting may need some more description (maybe you already have this in place in the earlier chapters). I liked how a subtle things such as "the old teleline" helped to narrow the era of the story.
 
I liked it. Very pacy and exciting, with what seem to be some enjoyably unsavoury characters.

There are a few errors in punctuation and grammar knocking about ("F*ck" not capitalised, "sh*t" not capitalised, "got worst every week"...) and there could be a spot of tightening here and there.

The intrusion part of the scene dragged ever so slightly - the guards seemed to be banging for quite some time, allowing the two men to have quite a few exchanges, which I think is pushing credibility; so that could be quickened up a bit, but otherwise, pretty good stuff :)
 
Always happy to brutalise a piece help.

thick wood door - wooden

was over - style point: maybe 'had ended'?

and breathed a curse then threw - I'd make 'then threw...' a new sentence, but if you choose to keep it I'd add a comma after 'curse'.

face and turned - replace 'and' with a comma

if he wasn't - if he weren't [you may get away with 'wasn't' as it seems close third. But it's still wrong :p ]

time, he knew this, it - I think this sentence has too much in it. Perhaps cut into two, or shift the 'knew' bit to the start

mark wasn’t such - weren't

it was chaos - I'd make this a sentence by itself (both to improve the sentence it's currently in and to improve the contemptuous impact)

sh*t - capitalise

f*ck -
capitalise [same again later on the same line]

Listen to me - perhaps emphasise this being whispered so the guards, or whoever, don't hear him

twisted and ran for the window. Throwing himself through the gap as the bedroom door finally caved, he twisted - repetitive, change one 'twisted'

I like it rather a lot. It's nice, tightly written, no real guff, and the character's mindset (contempt for Derron) comes through nicely.
 
I think the PGCE studies are showing in your writing, but as work pays the bills, writing comes second for now. I do think your showing some nice skill here and in a few years when your darling students have worn you down, you hopefully will be ready for your professional writing career. Education is hard these days, good luck with it.

Like most others here, great use of images and word play, just lacking a strong connection with the character (there was a connection with the character, but not really holding me to the scene all the time). A good section of high quality. I like what I see and I know you'll be back to polish up and make it sing. Keep at it lad (generic Irish term for all sexes, but I suspect you are actually a lad).
 
How long had it been since he’d last seen his brother?

Hey barrett. Some great advice so far. I'll mention just one thing that confused me a bit at the beginning of the piece, and took me out of the initial flow as I was trying to work this point out in my head. This line..How long had it been since he’d last seen his brother?..is what I refer to. I think the word 'last' is redundant in the sentence, from a technical-writing standpoint..and also this one word is what caused me a bit of confusion. If you delete the word, the sentence means the same thing. But including the word 'last' here made me initially think he has now encountered his brother again...and when a new character is introduced with a similar name (Aaeron/Derron), I thought that perhaps I was correct, and this family used a kind of rhyming scheme in naming its children. Then things seemed very weird to me, when the foot rubbing started.

It might be just me who has this issue...but if you made it a bit clearer at the beginning that Aaeron was not, after many years, encountering his brother again, I think the piece would flow just a little bit better. I'll say too you've made a lot of progress with your writing in the last year...this seems much more sophisticated to me--both from a skills level, and a storytelling level--than the Stranger pieces you've posted. Well done!
 
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I had the same trouble as Cat's Cradle, but couldn't identify it at first. Now that you pointed that out, it does sound like he's there with his brother at first, and the names add to that idea. Otherwise, I like how it ends and provides a lot of context. Just get us closer to the character like Brian said, as well.
 
If his shoes were a different size then the mark's that'd be a dead giveaway. I would have Mr fashionable throw aeorons shoes and kit and presumably his Purse of payment ready for services rendered into a pillowcase along with the two wine glasses and bottle ..
This isn't the first time the young kid has played two ends against the middle because he is comfortable two timing miss important person. Or a bag he grabs and throws everything into, then slings over aeorons neck with a kiss before shoving him with the closing window out.
And maybe the bag holds a piece of cryptic correspondence that delivers more information then the whole time spent has gained.
And its not aoerron they are after but the bag and the letter that miss important would kill to get back. Because he took it away he saved Mr fashionables life. So after a bit he returns the favor.
Anyways I guess I am just saying by adding a little bit, you can make more of this both now and later.
And by the way wouldn't that note from his brother be sent elsewhere? Perhaps he could be thinking about it.
Just as effective as a mood killer.
And wouldn't there be an anti room with some sort of servant? I thought that class always had someone to get the door and so on. The raised voices as the guards argue with the servant will give 00 something enough time to get out of Dodge so to speak..
Then our double 0 could be sitting at a cafe with bottle and glass in hand while the guards race past looking for a running man, not someone quietly about his business.
Since he was with a man, if he can hook up with a woman even to sit at her table a second. Then that further disguises him.
 
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A ton to be getting on with here. Thank you all for your time. This has helped a lot. (or alot!)
 
Thank you all for your help. This is the first 1500 words.
I realised i had to start a few minutes before the piece originally began.
Again, thank you all for your time and effort.

********************************
A knock at the door froze Aaeron in his lover’s arms. “I thought you said we wouldn’t be disturbed,” he hissed, springing from the bed and darting across the room. He positioned himself to one side of the door, heart thumping in his chest. If he was seen then months of work would have been wasted. He pushed himself against the wall, the hard plaster cool on his bare back, and tried not to breathe.

Derron raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Aaeron mouthed then put his finger to his mouth.

The younger man laughed and eased his lithe, naked frame from the bed. “It’s probably a servant asking about dinner.” He padded towards the door, shaking his head. “I left them strict instructions not to disturb.”

“No,” Aaeron whispered, waving his hands, his heart thumping in his chest. “Don’t.”

“Relax…” Derron winked and opened the door.

Aaeron watched his lover’s eyes widen and his smile slide from his face.

“I have a message for Aaeron Edgerton.” A cool, monotone voice said from the other side of the door.

“How in the blazes…” Derron shook his head. “No don’t tell me. One of my servants…was it Martha? It was, wasn’t it?”

“I have a message for Aaeron Edgerton.” The voice repeated in the same dead-pan voice.

“Yes, you said that,” Derron said, rolling his eyes and stepping back. “Aaerie, I suppose you should come deal with this.”

Aaeron took a deep breath then stepped around the door. A young girl, slender with sun kissed hair, stood waiting for him. Dressed in a dull grey overall with one large pocket at the front, she would have been beautiful if not for sightless milky eyes. Messengers… He resisted a shudder. They’d always unsettled him. Springing up almost overnight, they now had a monopoly on the wireless and had stores all over the Cityscapes. No one knew much about them except that they always delivered. Always.

The girl pulled an envelope from her front pocket. “Aaeron Edgerton. I have a message for you. Do you accept?” She held the white envelope out to him and he hesitated. If he took it, there’d be a paper trail and proof he’d been here. He caught the Messenger’s eyes and his throat went dry. They always delivered.

“Aaeron Edgerton. I have a message for you. Do you-”

“Yes. Fine.” He snatched at the envelope. “Of course I bloody do. What’s the charge?”

“No charge. Sender paid in full.” She turned and stumbled down the corridor towards the stairs in that scraping-shuffle walk all Messengers had.

A heavy weight settled onto his shoulders as he watched her go. Messengers weren’t cheap. Whatever the envelope contained it wouldn’t be good. No one paid top dollar to send good news. With a furrowed brow, he tore into the note. The script was neat and formal. It was also short.

Brother,

We need to meet.

Slamming the door, he closed his eyes then leaned forward, pushing his forehead hard into the thick wooden door as his legs went watery. How long had it been since he’d last seen his brother? Ten years? Twelve? He hissed a curse.

“Problem?” Derron called from behind.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and forced one of his best smiles onto his face then turned back to the room, throwing the note to the floor. “Nothing to worry about.” He wasn’t lying. It was nothing to worry about because he had no intention of meeting with his brother. Whatever problems Duncan had were nothing to do with him.

Derron, back in bed, lay half submerged in the covers of a large four poster bed and smiled up at him. “You sure? You look upset.”

Aaeron showed some teeth. “Then cheer me up.” His bare feet slapped on the floor’s cool tiling as he crossed the room. Pausing at the edge of the bed, he looked down at the young man lying before him. - Beautiful definitely, but also vapid and vain. If he weren’t Councillor Metra’s latest squeeze then he’d be pointless. “Where were we?” He reached beneath the covers and grabbed an ankle. “Something about a foot rub…”

“Ahh, there’s the Aaerie I know and love,” Derron giggled, falling back with a dramatic sigh as Aaeron went to work.

That nickname still annoyed him. But it was just one of many annoyances he’d put up with recently. An entire month invested and still nothing close to useful. Pillow talk could take time, it was a long con with no guarantee of a payoff, but the work would be a lot more enjoyable if Derron wasn’t such a bore. If I have to endure one more discussion on stitching patterns, I’ll tear my hair out.

“Ahh, that’s the spot.” Derron’s voice floated from the tangle of white sheets.

Aaeron resisted a scowl. Of course it’s the spot. Even an amateur could find the spot by now. He dug his thumb into the ball of the foot, eliciting a low groan from his mark. And I’m far from an amateur.

While his hands did their work, he gazed around the ghastly room. How anyone lived in this mess was beyond him. The room was a clutter of furniture that served no real function. The chairs too narrow to sit on, the desks slanted and warped as to make writing impossible. It was chaos. Fashion in the Capital changed quicker than the seasons and the recent spartan style was waning, replaced with an affluence of decoration that got worse every week. The current trend seemed to be that to be fashionable the furniture in your room couldn’t be functional and creatures like Derron would die before they’d be considered unfashionable.

He released the foot and grabbed the second. I’ll give it a few more weeks, if he hasn’t given me anything of use by then I’ll move on. It wasn’t like he expected much. Just a tidbit on the Metra’s trading plans or even something about the council would do. Ever since he was a child he’d been able to put pieces together and create a whole. His old school master, Spindle, called it thinking round corners. Aaeron called it common sense.

The loud crash of the front door being slammed open cut through his thoughts and he froze. Raised voices seeped through the floorboards. sh*t. He sprang from the bed and slammed the bedroom door’s bolt home. Someone downstairs screamed and a loud smash filled the air.

“F*ck, F*ck, F*ck.” Aaeron backed away, hands on his head. “F*ck!”

Derron sat up, eyes wide in a stark white face, so at odds with his usual tanned complexion. “Aaerie, she knows!”

Metra couldn’t know. Not about him. Derron’s servants knew he had a lover but were paid heavily for their discretion. Besides, none had ever seen him come or go. Heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs, growing louder. Metra couldn’t know who he was. She just couldn’t.

“Aaerie, what are we going to do?”

Aaeron spun. “You’re going to stop using my name for one thing,” he hissed, chopping the air with his hand. He grabbed his clothes from the floor and started to pull on his trousers. “If they don’t see me, then I wasn’t here.” Lower half covered, he slipped on his shirt, ignoring the buttons. “Where are my shoes?”

The heavy footsteps reached the top of the stairs and seemed to shake the walls as they cannoned down the corridor towards the bedroom.

“She’s going to kill us,” Derron wailed, hands across his face.

Striding across the room, knocking chairs and stools aside, Aaeron grabbed the younger man by the shoulders. “Listen to me. If I’m not here, then I was never here.”

Derron’s eyes rolled. “But…”

Aaeron slapped him across the cheek then pinned him with a glare. “I. Was. Never. Here.”

“Okay…” Derron replied in a soft voice. “Not here, wasn’t here.”

“Open up!” Something heavy hit the door. “In the name of Councillor Metra, open up.” Again the door was struck.

The banging on the door matched the beating of his heart as Aaeron raced over to the closed window and flung the shutters open. The crowded streets flowed beneath him. No one looked up. People soon learnt to mind their own business in these parts. He scanned the narrow nearby ledges, looking for a way down.

Derron got to his feet, swaying, thin white sheet wrapped around him, his only shield against what was coming through that door. He bent over, grabbing a bundle from the floor then straightened, thrusting it at Aaeron. “Quickly, your things.”

Another heavy strike rattled the door and the wooden frame splintered.

“No time!” Aaeron threw himself through the window as the bedroom door finally caved. He fell, twisting and shot out a hand, grabbing the old teleline. The wire dug into his palm but before he could scream, his upper body snapped back and instead of slamming headfirst two storeys into the dirt, he dropped lightly to his feet with nothing more than a sore shoulder to show for it.
 
Cool... Very nice action and the zombie messenger is unsettling.

Reads a lot cleaner now. You lost a little flavor in the retell, but it is still evocative.
Derron reads less of a sad puppy this time.
 
Just an observation:: your writing seems to intersect largely with sun-kissed hair; predominantly on the feminine side.

As to to the message: I'd expect it to come back and bite him hard since he threw it so cavalierly to the floor. As on the edge and paranoid as he is; one would wonder if that very act is all that much in character.


I'm fairly certain that the POV is Aaeron: throughout. But this little bit threw me and::
Derron sat up, eyes wide in a stark white face, so at odds with his usual tanned complexion. “Aaerie, she knows!”

Metra couldn’t know. Not about him. Derron’s servants knew he had a lover but were paid heavily for their discretion. Besides, none had ever seen him come or go. Heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs, growing louder. Metra couldn’t know who he was. She just couldn’t.

“Aaerie, what are we going to do?”

::I can only guess that its because it is sandwiched by two bits of dialogue from Derron and could in some ways be a thought from out of his head. The way it reads it could be either one though again I qualify that I'm certain that this is all supposed to be Aaeron's POV. My suggestion is a bit closer draw with his reactions and possibly the fear that he feels and tastes at the moment.

Maybe something like::

Metra couldn't know. The incessant pounding of his own blood impeded Aaeron's thinking for scant seconds. Not about him.

But then again it could just be me. I did notice several instances where Derron's dialogue sandwiches Aaeron's thoughts.

And one more thing:: Der-ron and Aae- ron somehow begins to sound like twins.
 
I thought it was really good. Is this the opening? If not then you might be able to drop a few of the descriptors, 'his old school master, Spindle' for example, if we already know who spindle is. If that not the case then it's fine as is.

I also have a bit of an issue with the naming, not that there's anything wrong with having similar names per se, (or even the same name) and it might be that it is just out of place in a short extract, but fine in a full length.
However, picking up on Tinkerdan's point about the discarded note - which I also assume that this is a piece of evidence used against aerron at some point, and also thought his long con character might have been smart enough not to chuck it around, especially after he was so worried about the paper trail. If it is nessecary to keep it there, it could be explained away by being caught off guard by the simple fact his brother was trying to reach him... However my own point about his character would be, shouldn't/wouldn't he be using a fake name?
 
This is the introduction to this character. It's a chapter that currently sits at 4k and isn't done. (I'm not sure if i like chapters this long but we'll see.) It'll take place about 1/3 into book 2.

The paper drop needs to be more subtle - I'll sort that. (but it needs to happen, as many of you have guessed, it'll bite him in the arse later)


I've found that the longer the chapter, (as long as its engaging) the easier it is to create a emotional bond between characters and reader. This is a character you have to like by the end of the book for the betrayal to work.
Stranger's Betrayal or Stranger's Deception is the title.(Though not 100% on either)
Book 1 was Stranger's Descent and aimed at dealing how far people would go to get what they want. How low they'd go...)
This book is all about trust. Some characters sacafrice a lot to keep trusts, some break.
 
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