Chapter One...

[Stephen Palmer]

Hello everyone. Having not written anything novel length for 4-5 years, I find myself enjoying my well-earned summer holiday by beginning a new SF novel, which is going really well so far...

Here's the opening scenes, do feel free to let me know your thoughts...

Steve...

___________________________________________________________

Chapter 1

​

With the city of Morsurbs silent below him, Abiuravi knew he was in peril on the Nebula Steps as the Mobilis approached, creeping, drooling, a mound of vegetation as white as snow. He glanced to his left and to his right. Distant city henges lay coddled in mist. Half a league away, at the bottom of the steps, he saw Portafinis and the dark line of the Seiungo wall, rising and falling into nocturnal mist like the spine of a black serpent. He saw no Humani. If he ran full tilt for the edge of the steps and risked a leap into foggy unknown, he could break his neck. And he spoke none of the botanic languages.

The Mobilis was toothed and clawed, its stems cloaked in rustling white leaves, its pink face faded to grey in the half-light of Divinita. Black eyes bulging, saliva marking the dust-dry steps with dark blotches, it purred, then growled.

Again Abiuravi looked around, desperate for help, for the hint of a lantern, for the sound of a voice. He saw no Humani, nor even any Simi grubbing for debris in streets denied to them. Abiuravi drew his knife. It was all he had. Nothing grew on these parched granite slabs; there was nothing for the Mobilis to feed on, no Immobilis to be distracted by.

He had been unwise to walk here, and alone. Taking a solitary trip: self-delusion. He was not special. He was not young. He was tired.

The Mobilis shrugged itself forward. Abiuravi tensed, aware that he knew nothing about the bush’s intelligence; it could be feigning boorish behaviour. He crouched down, knife in hand, arm outstretched, moving to his left so the ethereal azure glow of Divinita was behind him - hoping the light of that immense disk might confuse the bush. The bush hissed. It knew it had located prey.

“I am not easy,” he told it. There was a miniscule chance that this was one cognisant of Humani languages. The bush made no reply. “I will pour your blood upon these steps,” he continued. “Hear my clear voice! I may look grizzled and dirty, but I can fight. Run, while you can!”

The Mobilis crept forward, hissing. Its front teeth began to extend and there was a sound like retching. At once Abiuravi raised his right hand to draw his cloak up to his face. There was a liquid cough, then acid sap splashed over him. This was one of the deadly vomiting ones. He took a few steps backward, his knife hand trembling.

“I could run,” he told himself. “It could be slow. It could be slow, Abiuravi.”

Acrid vapour rose from his damaged cloak. If he closed with the bush for knife work he opened himself up to an attack from the thing. No, he should keep his distance. “I should run,” he said.

He took a deep breath, turned and leaped up to the next step, but at once white tendrils whipped around his legs, tightened, and clung. There was a shudder from the bush, a growl, then an extended hiss as it tugged. Abiuravi’s feet were pulled away and he fell to the ground on his left side. He rolled over to free his knife hand. The bush jumped forwards, landing just yards away, and again the front teeth extended. Abiuravi cried out and rolled into his cloak so the sap would not touch his skin, but he was prone and vulnerable, and the bubbling fluid sizzled on his left arm, stinging like boiling water.

He lashed out at the bush’s face. Caught it. A line of dark blood dripped from pale bark, and leaves fell like kerchiefs. Then an explosive cough covered his left hand and arm with acid, and he screamed, and dropped the knife. Tendrils contracted and pulled him along the ground.

“No!” he cried. “Not me! Not now!” Panicked, he writhed around, turned to look up and down the steps. There was no sign of a Messor.

“It is not time!” he shouted.

___________________________________________________________

 

[Deathfrommassive]

Interesting, look forward to reading more.

 

[HareBrain]

Could it be that someone has spent 4-5 years fighting Marlboros in Final Fantasy?

Firstly, you should have made sure there's a line break between paragraphs, otherwise it's a bit hard to read. Threads have been closed for that reason.

As for the writing, I liked this a lot, but the beginning sentence is cumbersome -- feels like you're trying to squeeze too much information into it, and it almost lost me. We don't need the name of the city yet, nor the steps.

The only other thing that caught me slightly were the similes. "White as snow" is inoffensive but feels a bit pointless, but "fell like kerchiefs" almost pulled me out of the story. In a close third-person POV, we assume that the comparison is one the character would make, in that situation. Why kerchiefs? Has he seen many falling together? And why is that occurring to him in a life-threatening situation?

Good stuff though. Interesting, tightly written and unusual.

 

[The Judge]

Steve, as HareBrain said, you do need to ensure your formatting is correct when you post in Critiques. Since the system can't cope with indented first lines, that means a line's break between each paragraph. As this was so short I've gone through and done it for you this time, as I should hate the wall of text appearance to put anyone off from reading it. Do make sure you check as and when you post another piece, though.

I haven't read it thoroughly for a critique at this stage. I might come back and have another gander later.

 

[The Judge]

Well, you certainly don't need much nit-picky help, since you know how to write tense, well-crafted sentences all right. I'd be a bit stingier with commas myself, especially before "and" but nothing that's obviously wrong on the punctuation/grammar front as far as I can see. A few things jarred with me, but these are very much personal preferences, and I'll just mention them in case they're of help/interest:

Panicked, he writhed around, turned to look up and down the steps - I don't think you need "around" do you? Especially as it collides with the rhyme from "ground" in the para above. More importantly, I think the comma after it would be better replaced with an "and" or changing "turned" into "turning". It's not wrong, of course, just a question of style, but to my ears it needs the amendment.

If he ran full tilt for the edge of the steps and risked a leap into foggy unknown, he could break his neck. And he spoke none of the botanic languages - it seems an odd anti-climax to have these sentences in this order. I'd personally have them the other way round so we lead up to the worst option, or perhaps move the botanic languages bit to when he tries to talk to the bush.

I have much the same feeling with It was all he had. Nothing grew on these parched granite slabs which seems a distinct non-sequitur in this order. The whole para is also weakened by ending with the to be distracted by. I think I'd invert the sentence about the Immobilis and shove it before the other bit, so as to read something like "He couldn't hope for the Mobilis to be distracted. Nothing grew on the** parched granite slabs, so it had*** nothing on which it could feed. He drew his knife. It was all he had." To me, this reads stronger, more direct and active.

** I try to avoid "this" and "these" when writing in the past tense, but again it's a question of style
*** I also try and avoid "there was" as far as possible, and though I recognise that sometimes it's the best option I wonder if you're in danger of overusing it here, with six appearances in fewer than 700 words

On larger issues, I agree with HareBrian's points about the jam-packed opening line and the somewhat redundant imagery -- is Abiuravi the kind of person to think in metaphor in this way, and at such a time? I was also unsure about him speaking to himself, especially if there is a chance the bush understands the language. Do you need him to speak as opposed to think these things?

As to the story line, I can't quite make out why he doesn't try to escape. I know he's liable to break his neck if he leaps off the steps, but is that the only way out? You don't mention him being physically herded into a corner or cul-de-sac. Perhaps you might add just a word or two to make it clear it that is the case.

Anyhow, an intriguing, dramatic opening with a distinctly strange and unpleasant monster/creature. Good luck with it.

 

[Liz Bent]

Very nicely done! I don't think I'm capable of as insightful a critique as that supplied by The Judge, but I do have to agree with the comments that there is a little too much information in the first sentence, and the use of "kerchiefs" in the simile was a bit distracting.

Otherwise, very nice writing, it was interesting and I wanted to read more.

 

[badjoke]

I really liked this, and I'd be interested in finding out more about the story, but I do have some nits to pick.

The first thing I noticed is that I feel like you're introducing too many foreign names and concepts that could be more effectively sprinkled in later. Your first sentence would be tighter if it went more like "With the city silent below him, Abiuravi knew he was in peril as the Mobilis approached, creeping, drooling, a mound of vegetation white as [and here I also agree that I think this would be awesomer with a non-cliched simile]".

“I could run,” he told himself. “It could be slow. It could be slow, Abiuravi.”

The he-tells-himself and the repetition take away from the immediacy here. "He could run. It might not catch him." or something like that would keep the tension.

. If he closed with the bush for knife work he opened himself up to an attack from the thing.

Dunno if it's you or me here, but I can't make sense of this.

No, he should keep his distance. “I should run,” he said.

Once again, I think you would keep the tension by cutting the first sentence and then creating a new paragraph with "He should run".

“No!” he cried. “Not me! Not now!” Panicked, he writhed around, turned to look up and down the steps. There was no sign of a Messor.

What's a Messor? Without any kind of description, this sentence is meaningless to me. You could even give a quick description and leaving naming it until later, or if you can fit both description and name in without sounding clumsy, that could work, too.

Anyway, I'm interested. I'd like to read more, find out why this tired guy is walking around a dangerous area late at night, what kind of world this is, etc. Interesting.

 

[JCAllan]

Hello Steve.

The description of the world is very detailed and left me wanting to know more about this unusual world. The tension generated in these first lines definitely leaves me wanting to know more so I am looking forward to further updates.

 

[Stephen Palmer]

Thanks for all this! I'm afraid I didn't spot the "no line breaks" thing, my apologies. I copied and pasted it from my Mac version of Word, maybe that's the issue.

Thanks for all the replies, terrific! Will take all comments on board, and post more later - I'm on extended holiday at the moment, so internet access is an issue (too poor to have it at home...)

Steve...

 

[TheEndIsNigh]

Mmm... I found it very hard to get a handle on what's going on here. There seems (for a first chapter) a lot to get your imagination round with very little to go on.

Here goes

Hello everyone. Having not written anything novel length for 4-5 years, I find myself enjoying my well-earned summer holiday by beginning a new SF novel, which is going really well so far...

Here's the opening scenes, do feel free to let me know your thoughts...

Steve...

___________________________________________________________

Chapter 1​

With the city of Morsurbs silent below him, Abiuravi knew he was in peril (bit achaic) on the Nebula Steps as the Mobilis approached, creeping, drooling, a mound of vegetation as white as snow. He glanced (he's in a panic would a glance be enough to see all the options desperately looking for) to his left and to his right. Distant city henges (stone springs to mind) lay coddled in mist. Half a league away, at the bottom of the steps, (three miles awayt?) he saw Portafinis and the dark line of the Seiungo wall, rising and falling into nocturnal mist like the spine of a black serpent. He saw no Humani (humans I assume). If he ran full tilt for the edge of the steps and risked a leap into foggy (he could see three miles away a bit ago) unknown, he could break his neck. (And everything else) And he spoke none of the botanic languages. (Not sure how not speaking a language would be relevant to a suicidal leap into the abyss)

The Mobilis was toothed and clawed, its stems cloaked in rustling white leaves, its pink face faded to grey in the half-light of Divinita. (Now it's dark as well which makes his previous observances even more incredible) Black eyes bulging, (It too far away for him to discern this detail you need to be within say 10 feet to see eye colour and bulging if it's that close he should be running for that cliff) saliva marking the dust-dry steps with dark blotches, it purred, then growled.

Again Abiuravi looked around, desperate for help, for the hint of a lantern, for the sound of a voice. He saw no Humani, nor even any Simi (more unexplained animals) grubbing for debris in streets (what streets) denied to them. Abiuravi drew his knife. It was all he had. Nothing grew on these parched granite slabs; there was nothing for the Mobilis to feed on, no Immobilis (?) to be distracted by.

He had been unwise to walk here, and alone. Taking a solitary trip: self-delusion. He was not special. He was not young. He was tired. (Detracts from the action IMO)

The Mobilis shrugged itself forward. Abiuravi tensed, aware that he knew nothing about the bush’s intelligence; it could be feigning boorish behaviour. He crouched down, knife in hand, arm outstretched, moving to his left so the ethereal azure glow of Divinita was behind him - hoping the light of that immense disk might confuse the bush. The bush hissed. It knew it had located prey. (Well it knows what it knows but surely it was he that now new)

“I am not easy,” he told it. There was a miniscule chance that this was one cognisant of Humani languages. The bush made no reply. “I will pour your blood (sap) upon these steps,” he continued. “Hear my clear voice! I may look grizzled and dirty, but I can fight. Run, (shuffle) while you can!”

The Mobilis crept forward, hissing. Its front teeth began to extend and there was a sound like retching. At once Abiuravi raised his right hand to draw his cloak up to his face. There was a liquid cough, then acid sap splashed over him. This was one of the deadly (as opposed to the deadly rip you apart types great it was a vomiting type maybe) vomiting ones. He took a few steps backward, his knife hand trembling. (What has his coat special anti acid properties or would he have to discard it)

“I could run,” he told himself. “It could be slow. It could be slow, Abiuravi.” (?why is he talking if he think the plant may understand sure these should be thoughts)

Acrid vapour rose from his damaged cloak. If he closed with the bush for knife work he opened himself up to an attack from the thing. (a bit obvious and no ones going to tackle an acid vomiting plant with just a knife - a machete maybe) No, he should keep his distance. “I should run,” he said.

He took a deep breath, turned and leaped up to the next step, but at once white tendrils whipped around his legs, tightened, and clung. There was a shudder from the bush, a growl, then an extended hiss as it tugged. Abiuravi’s feet were pulled away and he fell to the ground on his left side. He rolled over to free his knife hand. The bush jumped forwards, landing just yards away, and again the front teeth extended. Abiuravi cried out and rolled into his cloak so the sap would not touch his skin, but he was prone and vulnerable, and the bubbling fluid sizzled on his left arm, stinging like boiling water. (confusing)

He lashed out at the bush’s face. Caught it. A line of dark blood dripped from pale bark, and leaves fell like kerchiefs. Then an explosive cough covered his left hand and arm with acid, and he screamed, and dropped the knife. Tendrils contracted and pulled him along the ground.

“No!” he cried. “Not me! Not now!” Panicked, he writhed around, turned to look up and down the steps. There was no sign of a Messor. (?)

“It is not time!” he shouted.

(Confusing again)

___________________________________________________________

No, sorry it didn't work for me. There was too many new concepts without explanation to take in and the sense of 'what was that all for' at the end. If this is a prologue then it might work but it still doesn't tell me anything about what I'm getting into except there are intelligent plants that move about and eat whatever Abiuravi was

On the other hand the idea has promise - walking talking flora

Hope I helped

TEiN

 

[Daezarkian]

Overall, very impressive. Your prose has a nice flow, while still managing to pack a lot of memorable imagery.

I found myself liking the first half of the passage more than the second. Your descriptive style seems well-suited to world-building and establishing scenes, but a bit of that gets lost when the action slows down to the man vs. bush sequence. Things get just a tad redundant at that point, and you may need to tighten up the description of the fight.

Very good overall, however. I was drawn in right from the start and certainly want to know more about this world.

 

[Stephen Palmer]

Again, many thanks everyone!

The writing of this novel is going incredibly well, and very fast. This is first draft stuff, so doubtless a lot will change. Some of my novels get quite a few 'makeovers' - the first draft of 'Urbis Morpheos' was written in 1998, then it got two more major makeovers, then a re-write before PS got the final thing.

I will post more of chapter 1 soon. I'm really grateful for your feedback, this is a very interesting proces for an author who's been writing since 1986 and published since 1996, but who's never had this kind of internet-powered feedback. Terrific stuff!

 

[Precise Calibre]

Everyone else has touched on what I myself am thinking, but I will lend my voice to the din as well.

The first sentence is cumbersome as has been stated - I think you crammed too many subjects into it, just break it up.

I'll reinforce the idea that you lay down too many foreign terms in too short a time period, at least for my tastes. It felt almost as if I was reading "A Clockwork Orange".

I did, however enjoy the concept of it and look forward to what you produce after the makeover. I also look forward to seeing what's next.

 

[Malloriel]

For me, there was a strong feeling of "H.P. Lovecraft" in the beginning, between the casual use of unusual place names, to the descriptions of the Mobilis, very "Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath". Despite the pleasant feeling of nostalgia toward the Lovecraft, it felt like too many too soon, and I had to fight the urge to pass the names over rather than really take in their flavors and see how they paint the world.

I loved the imagery in "Distant city henges lay coddled in mist", and it made me wonder why I'd never used the phrase before myself. I also loved the idea of something like a long wall appearing to rise and fall in the mist like the undulations of some impossibly large snake.

To reference something TEIN noted in your prose, "And he spoke none of the botanic languages. (Not sure how not speaking a language would be relevant to a suicidal leap into the abyss)": I found it to be one of the tricks used to clue the reader in on the sorts of things going on in this world without implicitly stating them. It's already been established that a "mound of vegetation" can creep and drool. You must next assume that this Mobilis, as we've been told to call it, is something terrifying indeed if he's willing to think about flinging himself off into the fog where he could very potentially die, so from there I find it perfectly relevant to let us know that many of the plants are sentient enough to have a language, and that if he knew that language, he could talk them into catching him, or helping him in some way. At least, that's the impression I had by the end of that paragraph.

 

[TheEndIsNigh]

Malloriel:

I know were not supposed to argue in the critiques but you raise a valid point.

I had no problem with the concept, in fact I enjoyed the premis that he plant could talk. It was that the statement seemed to have no attachment to the previous sentence - the jumping...

However, it coud easily be linked by simply adding a few words.

And he spoke none of the botanic languages, so trying to reason with the thing wasn't an option. He eyed the edge again, it would be a death fall: a fight then; so be it.

I've just re-read your comments. I didn't get the impression that he would be talking to the plants that might break his fall; rather to the thing that was coming for him.

I may be wrong and you could easily be right but in either case I think that it's confusing

Perhaps Stephen could clarify.

Cheers

 

[The Judge]

My thoughts exactly, TEiN. I, too, loved the idea of botanic languages, but the sentence seemed odd perched on the end of the paragraph like that. I didn't give it a thought that some of the other botanics might be goodies who would help him if he did jump -- a clever idea, Malloriel. I'm always astounded at the way different people can read the same few words and get wholly different impressions from them, but I think it would help if Stephen clarified it for the benefit of those of us who don't think so creatively!

 

[Stephen Palmer]

Will do - hopefully on Thursday.

You guys rock!

Just one little thing I should mention now - I'm afraid it's part of my style to be opaque in a good few places in my work. Some of my readers do find that irritating, but most are OK with it, and a few relish the chance to disentangle the mysteries, sub-mysteries and enigmas...

Generally speaking, everything that's not obvious is either explained later, or, if not explained, is something that the reader has to work out. Examples might be the 40-year time-loop in Memory Seed, or why Psolilai apparently has no parents in Urbis Morpheos.

 

[Stephen Palmer]

The tale continues...
____________________________________

“No!” he cried. “Not me! Not now!” Panicked, he writhed around, turned to look up and down the steps. There was no sign of a Messor.

“It is not time!” he shouted. “I cannot d-“

A blast of yellow fire spat down from the air. The bush was aflame. Singed leaves made a choking smoke, fanned by the chaotic movement of the bush as its stems and branches vibrated. The air was thick with burning leaves. The Mobilis shrank back as a second blast split its bole in two.

Gasping, Abiuravi looked back. Three steps up stood a tall man armed with a pen and a vial of ink, a trail of documents marking the side of the step from which he must have appeared. “My hand!” Abiuravi cried. Acid sap bubbled on his skin. He tried to wipe it off, but it stuck, and spread. “My arm…”

The man leaped down to where Abiuravi lay. He was a young, bearded, dark. “I’ve got no water,” he said. He stood up, looking back in the direction from which he had come. “There’s a small tavern down the hill, off the Nebula Steps. A flight of stairs takes you there.”

Gasping for breath, Abiuravi rose to his feet and followed the man. His rescuer ran: Abiuravi staggered. At the side of the step he saw a precipitous drop to the houses far below, their tiled rooves fungus-covered, the alleys between them invisible beneath mist. Stone stairs no more than a yard wide led down like a part-folded ribbon. Without a word the man leaped them as would a goat, his boot heels tapping out a fast rhythm. Abiuravi followed as best he could, leaning back and using his right hand to balance his descent, which seemed to extend in time: the steps so high, Morsurbs below like the foothills of a great mountain, every frantic second convincing him he would trip, scream, fall to his death.

“Almost there!” came a voice.

Abiuravi smelled food. He caught his breath, slowed, then glanced out from the winding stairs to see a tower at eye level. Great mirrors atop it reflected Divinita’s radiance downward. Then shadow took him, and he felt the young man’s hand reach for his shin. He felt dizzy, nauseous: pain enervated him.

“Careful! There’s grease here. We’re almost there. Slow down!”

Abiuravi did as he was told. Twenty more paces and he was done, swathed in mist at street level, in a quarter of the city that he knew not.

The man grabbed his right wrist and dragged him to an illuminated door. The pair stumbled through. Abiuravi smelled smoke, cooked food, mud.

“Water!” the man called. “There’s been an attack!”

From a nearby table a white-haired woman rose, a tankard in her hand. She ran over and doused Abiuravi’s hand and arm in cold water.

Abiuravi relaxed. The pain diminished. A stink of burned flesh rose up, and he coughed, his eyes watering, as the people around him groaned, complained, and muttered. “The thing jumped me on the Nebula Steps,” he explained. “This man-“

But his rescuer had vanished.

Abiuravi held his breath. He looked around. The tavern room was gloomy, lit by soot-stained lanterns, a pall of smoke roiling beneath the ceiling, tables and chairs strewn at random around the place. And silence now – except for the drip of water from his arm to the floorboards.

The old woman smiled at him and said, “Of course, a man,” as if he was a child.

“But…”

“Sit down. This is not your place, but we do welcome you here.”

Abiuravi let out his breath, sagged into a chair. Twenty local residents sat in this large common room: cheap clothes, old pipes, dirty tables, battered chairs, a tray of roasted Immobilis organs on a lengthy bar that glittered with pink crystal goblets. Of course he could not touch any of the food here, this not being his community.

“I am Humani,” he said. “I thought I would see my Messor any second…” He sobbed, leaned over and saw tendril marks on his boots. “Look! White leaf mould, acid sap stains. I did not lie.”

There was no reply. The old woman brought him a tankard of water. “It’s safe to drink,” she said. “We’ve got our own well.”

Abiuravi stood up. He had to get away. “Do you have a room…?”

The old woman pointed to a door. Abiuravi walked through it to enter a small chamber fitted with a bench, on which stood pails of water, cloths, and other cleansing oddments. A cracked, black-stained mirror hung on the wall. He took a cloth and washed his face and his damaged arm and hand, before looking at himself in the mirror. Black-grey crinkled hair at shoulder length, deepset eyes beneath unruly eyebrows, pock-marked skin, white hairs coming out of his ears. His teeth were good though, his breath still sweet.

He sat on the bench. He began to relax. The sensation of being watched by so many strangers had been uncomfortable.

Ten minutes later his breathing was calm, his mind quiet. He returned to the common room.

The old woman stood at the further end of the bar, and he walked over to thank her. “It was a Mobilis like a bush,” he said. “I could draw it for you, if you had any-“

“There’s no need.”

Abiuravi sighed and sat on a bar stool. From this position he could see the further half of the common room, the far end of which was occupied by a large structure, in front of which sat a number of people. He walked over.

 

[Stephen Palmer]

Regarding 'botanic languages'...

That was a sentence to imply that the creature Abiuravi is fighting - which of course has many animal aspects - may have the ability to speak. I'll amend that sentence to make it clearer. This novel has a rather blurred line between animal and vegetable One of the other characters is a 'naturalist' who can speak botanic languages, including that spoken by bees. There are a lot of bees in this novel...

 

[The Judge]

Well, Stephen you got the formatting right this time, but the size of the font would have made a lot of us reach for our specs -- if not telescopes! -- so I've amended it to make it more readable.