Bebeker rides home

[Far Stranger]

Hi all, here’s 725 words from a huge work I am having so much fun writing. I am new to this; no one’s read anything I’ve written before (except the 75 word challenges!) but someone needs to soon, while I still have a chance at stopping terrible habits from forming. I would very much appreciate your expertise and your deep knowledge of SFF in offering any type of critique. The idea of hitting POST THREAD is causing me genuine nausea, but here we go. Thank you in advance.



The airship moved home across the nineveh’s bright skies, rumbling bulwark of chrome. Stale blood remained a dominant scent, King Bebeker noted. He was pressed against the reeking fur of his wagraves, swinging gently in the giant pendulum basket of wicker and iron suspended from the ship’s prow. Daylight so pure was likely damaging the lingering meat-scraps he called his body, and for this reason five of his personal guard, the King’s Skin, surrounded him, their dark mass absorbing the direct onslaught of the rays. But by gods, he would have some sun warm him today. And she would do it graciously as the most talented whore, as if the task delighted her.

From inside his breast pocket came once again the muffled cheep of the tiny robotic bird he hated. He ignored it. Darklake news could only spoil the exhilaration of conquest and space travel, just like the old days. Let Darklake news wait until the morrow.

High King Bebeker, Last of the Wishbone tribe, Lord of Darklake, Guardian of the Lusharian Dominions, was hugely ancient – and decaying. Given his arrival on the Hallelujah nineveh was as invader in the Broken Wishbone War centuries before, it was by now generally accepted he had become immortal, had at some point bargained with power darker than his own. Robed in costly satins, the King’s person nevertheless bore strong resemblance to a chicken carcass ready for binning, draped for decorum with a tea towel. He was hunch-backed but still long and thin, as all the Wishbone tribe had been, with a mottled pink vocal sac connecting face and neck, and a single central blue eye gleaming under a drooping forehead. His skin was the colour of yellowing milk; he sported a thick beard, but the white hair on his head was as soft and vacant as gossamer.

With effort Bebeker levered his head back, craning his eye towards the sun. But the patchworked iron and rivets of the airship’s undercarriage were all he could see beyond the towering creatures who encircled him. He stood so far beneath their great heads, he saw only the bottom of protruding jaws, yellow fangs at their edge. He saw their mechanical-membrane collars and the worn crivey-hide straps from their helmets chafing bristled chins. Chief of the King’s Skin, the wagrave Gar Ridge, had a gash on his neck four jellicks wide, scabbed but still seeping blood. Gar Bode had a burlap pouch at his waist – for those little pieces of scalp the creatures liked to rip off and bring to their females.

Inside the airship were a hundred more wagraves: the garaan, youngest soldiers, heads still ringing from the battle experience he’d arranged for them – monastery raid with accompanying slaughter on a roving comet, Q Pelops. They sat amongst mounds of loot; some lent against the crates of plundered power stones lashed to the ship walls. The few dead lay in heaped black bags. The garaan had proved themselves ready, as had the new weapon, now being transported home from the Sunne nineveh intergalactic base by the hidden ways.

His blood-reeking bodyguards made no movement as the wagraves’ own swathes of the nineveh rolled below the airship now, vast western plains he had gifted his beasts countless generations ago. What pristine control they had of their giant brute bodies – while he their master twitched like a restless toddler, traumatised legbones near to splitting. If they threw him from this basket? The growing powers they enjoyed would be scattered to the winds: no brute could command the complexity of imperial rule. No, the chicken carcass would always be their lord.

“Ever onward!” King Bebeker tipped his scraggy neck back once more and, vocal sac ballooning, howled through his ring of beasts to the setting sun. “May our enemies rue the day they pitted their meagre power against us!”

 

[kaufmannp]

Hi Far Stranger!
It is intimidating to share your work for the first time, but I think you'll find most on this site to be considerate and generous with their suggestions. Remember that writing is a marathon, not a race, and we improve with each failure. With that said, here are some notes I made while reading:

"And she would do it graciously as the most talented whore, as if the task delighted her."
This line could be rewritten with some more interiority, giving us more of an idea about who King Bebeker. Right now it comes off a tad cringe, although that's my highly subjective take. I'd suggest considering what this simile is inferring.

"From inside his breast pocket came once again the muffled cheep of the tiny robotic bird he hated." Here's a great opportunity to reveal character by showing why he hates the bird. A quick anecdote about past experiences or maybe some interior perception of what it is King Bebeker hates about the robotic bird. I love the visual, though! It makes me think of the robotic owl in the 80's Clash of the Titans.

"High King Bebeker, Last of the Wishbone tribe, Lord of Darklake, Guardian of the Lusharian Dominions, was hugely ancient – and decaying. Given his arrival on the Hallelujah nineveh was as invader in the Broken Wishbone War centuries before, it was by now generally accepted he had become immortal, had at some point bargained with power darker than his own." This is a LOT of information. It might overwhelm the reader, so you might consider trimming. Are all these titles relevant to the overall story? If not, maybe they're not necessary, and trimming gives you an opportunity to show us who King Bebeker IS rather than what titles he holds.

"...had a gash on his neck four jellicks wide." Is there a way to convey to the reader how wide four jellicks would look?

“Ever onward!” King Bebeker tipped his scraggy neck back once more and, vocal sac ballooning, howled through his ring of beasts to the setting sun. “May our enemies rue the day they pitted their meagre power against us!” This is a loooooooong dialogue tag that distract from what King Bebeker has to say.

I hope these notes are helpful, and please remember that they're only the subjective thoughts of one reader. Take them with heaping spoonfuls of salt. Good luck in your writing!

 

[msstice]

someone needs to soon, while I still have a chance at stopping terrible habits from forming

What is this new-fangled "Beta reader" thing?

I wanted to understand how old and universal the practice of beta reading was. My only education in process came from scattered autobiographical/biographical notes from Clarke, Asimov, Hemingway and Faulkner. I don't recall beta readers being mentioned. Sometimes editors gave feedback, but that...

www.sffchronicles.com

 

[Far Stranger]

Hi Far Stranger!
It is intimidating to share your work for the first time, but I think you'll find most on this site to be considerate and generous with their suggestions. Remember that writing is a marathon, not a race, and we improve with each failure. With that said, here are some notes I made while reading:

"And she would do it graciously as the most talented whore, as if the task delighted her."
This line could be rewritten with some more interiority, giving us more of an idea about who King Bebeker. Right now it comes off a tad cringe, although that's my highly subjective take. I'd suggest considering what this simile is inferring.

"From inside his breast pocket came once again the muffled cheep of the tiny robotic bird he hated." Here's a great opportunity to reveal character by showing why he hates the bird. A quick anecdote about past experiences or maybe some interior perception of what it is King Bebeker hates about the robotic bird. I love the visual, though! It makes me think of the robotic owl in the 80's Clash of the Titans.

"High King Bebeker, Last of the Wishbone tribe, Lord of Darklake, Guardian of the Lusharian Dominions, was hugely ancient – and decaying. Given his arrival on the Hallelujah nineveh was as invader in the Broken Wishbone War centuries before, it was by now generally accepted he had become immortal, had at some point bargained with power darker than his own." This is a LOT of information. It might overwhelm the reader, so you might consider trimming. Are all these titles relevant to the overall story? If not, maybe they're not necessary, and trimming gives you an opportunity to show us who King Bebeker IS rather than what titles he holds.

"...had a gash on his neck four jellicks wide." Is there a way to convey to the reader how wide four jellicks would look?

“Ever onward!” King Bebeker tipped his scraggy neck back once more and, vocal sac ballooning, howled through his ring of beasts to the setting sun. “May our enemies rue the day they pitted their meagre power against us!” This is a loooooooong dialogue tag that distract from what King Bebeker has to say.

I hope these notes are helpful, and please remember that they're only the subjective thoughts of one reader. Take them with heaping spoonfuls of salt. Good luck in your writing!

Thank you @kaufmannp for taking the time and giving me these valuable notes. And you're right: my first experience sharing my work has met with a considerate and generous response

 

[Far Stranger]

What is this new-fangled "Beta reader" thing?

I wanted to understand how old and universal the practice of beta reading was. My only education in process came from scattered autobiographical/biographical notes from Clarke, Asimov, Hemingway and Faulkner. I don't recall beta readers being mentioned. Sometimes editors gave feedback, but that...

www.sffchronicles.com

Thanks for taking the time @msstice I'll educate myself more about the feedback process.

 

[msstice]

The genre sounds like fantasy but could also be Science Fiction. I take away that the king is dissolute and evil. The writing is good (needs the usual revisions) but nothing jumped out at me and told me I had to read the rest. The descriptions are well done and are evocative enough of the physical strangeness of the dramatis personae but this alone does not grip my jaded brain.

It is possible that you have a cracker story. It is possible you have started the story too early. It is possible that the next 200 words make it impossible for me to put down the story, but as it is now, I see no reason to get some skin in the game. I hate to be the person who asks for more blood and bodies in the scene, but I think we need a little more movement here.

If I were writing this I would introduce some tension in the scene. Something foreboding, something that disturbs the normal flow of it all. Something that promises things are going to happen.

 

[msstice]

Thanks for taking the time @msstice I'll educate myself more about the feedback process.

That was a link into a comment in that thread summarizing a good discussion we had in the Chrons about critiques. Germane to your statement is a sentiment that if you get feedback too early, you could lose creative control of your story.

 

[Far Stranger]

That was a link into a comment in that thread summarizing a good discussion we had in the Chrons about critiques. Germane to your statement is a sentiment that if you get feedback too early, you could lose creative control of your story.

Thanks, I'll remember this advice. I'm proud of my newfound creative voice and I don't want to lose it.

(You posted something along similar lines a few months back that has stayed with me since... A very stylised piece in Critiques provoked strong reactions from people, and the author eventually declared they wouldn't pursue this idea any further. You said "And this is how art dies." I thought that was so brave and offbeat.)

 

[The Judge]

First of all, well done for posting -- it's always nerve-shredding to put one's work up, but it's very necessary to get feedback, as that's the only way we improve.

I thought this was an interesting piece, but if it's the opening scene of the book I agree with msstice that you might want to consider adding tension or conflict here -- perhaps the cheeping of the Darklake news keeps pressing/increasing in volume? -- since at the moment it's mostly description with backstory, and there's not quite enough to grab a reader and make her want to keep reading. If the scene actually comes much later in the story, then it wouldn't be so much of a worry; though even then it's better to keep things moving.

I liked the voice here, particularly that "But by gods" and though the "whore" line did bring me up with a jolt, it worked in giving insight into Bebeker himself. However, to my mind you need to keep within his POV throughout, so that third para where you describe him doesn't in my view work as well, since it's written in omniscient. Personally, I don't think any of that para is needed, certainly not in an opening scene and in such detail, but if you want to retain it, make it from his POV, ie "He was well aware that despite his costly satins, he looked like" though better than that, since it's best to avoid veil words/phrases such as "He saw/knew/realised" wherever possible. (And would he be wearing costly satins at this time? And would he know what a tea towel is?!!)

You lose his POV again later when you describe the garaan -- unless he actually can see them inside the airship, he can't know what they are leaning against etc, he can only imagine, so that also needs tweaking to my mind. (And it's "leant" or "leaned" by the way -- "lent" is for the past tense of "lend.")


I'm very much a nit-picker, which probably isn't what you need right now, but as you talk about avoiding bad habits, I though I'd just look at the first paragraph to show the kinds of things I consider when I'm writing, in case it's of help in pointing you towards what I think are good habits!

The airship moved home across the nineveh’s bright skies, rumbling bulwark of chrome.

This tripped me for a couple of reasons. First, I've no idea what a "nineveh" is -- it's not capitalised, so it isn't a world or continent, but since it has bright skies it's presumably some kind of landscape, so perhaps it's something like "veldt". On the one hand that's intriguing, but on the other hand, making me think too hard in an opening line is pushing it! You mention the "vast western plains" later, but I'm still not sure if that's what the nineveh is, since the word is used elsewhere in what appears to be a different sense, so it might be worth giving more of an idea (though not in this first line, of course, unless it can be done in only one or two words). Also, it brings the real ancient city of Nineveh to mind with all its cultural baggage. (I thought of the Rudyard Kipling poem, for instance, though I always misquote it!) If that is deliberate, fine, but if not you might want to reconsider the name.

More importantly, the sentence is grammatically incorrect. The "rumbling bulwark of chrome" presumably refers to the airship and isn't a continuation of the description of the bright skies, so at the very least requires an "a" there even if you don't want to upend the sentence to bring the description closer to the airship. I noticed later you've omitted an "a" with the "monastery raid", but if it is a stylistic choice, I'd suggest you rethink it.

Also, a bulwark is a defensive structure, which to me is at odds with the aggressive nature of the expedition. I'd always recommend thinking hard about word use and particularly imagery, so as to make everything fit with the whole feel of the scene, so using a predatory image here would perhaps fit better.

Stale blood remained a dominant scent, King Bebeker noted. He was pressed against the reeking fur of his wagraves,

This caused me a bit of confusion. You talk about the blood smell, but then it's "reeking" fur and I wasn't sure if the two were quite distinct, ie the fur has its own stench, or it was the blood smell on the fur. Later in the piece you speak of "blood-reeking fur" which makes it clear, but that's best done here by combining the two into one line immediately eg "The reek of stale blood from the wagraves' fur" (I've just realised that on each occasion I read the name as "wargrave"!) I'd also suggest you avoid repeating it later. By the way, this "noted" you've used is one of the veil words I mentioned above that it's best to avoid -- if you're well in someone's POV they're not needed.

Thinking about word use again, is "scent" the right word here? If they have better sense of smell than humans, and use that sense like a dog does, then it might well be but then I'd expect more olfactory terms throughout and/or show him scenting the air etc. Otherwise, it suggests a pleasant small, so I'd suggest "stench" or just plain "smell" here.

swinging gently in the giant pendulum basket of wicker and iron suspended from the ship’s prow.

Word use again. Is it really a pendulum, ie something that deliberately swings from side to side to make something work, like a clock? Wouldn't that really impact on the airship? Or do you mean "pendent" ie hanging from? (Later on you talk of "pristine control" which again makes me wonder if you've perhaps used a thesaurus and chosen a wrong synonym, since it means pure in the sense of clean/new, whereas you perhaps mean pure as in absolute.)

I'm getting contradictory ideas from a basket of wicker and iron -- the one is light, which might be necessary to counteract the weight of the creatures, but the other is very heavy. Why both? And why iron, not steel? The heavy idea of lead also contrasts with the airship itself which is made of chrome, which seems odd to me. (But then I'm pig-ignorant about metallurgy and what's best used where!) And suspended from the prow? Won't that make the airship harder to handle and keep in the air, rather than having the basket danging from the middle?? It may be that these are all matters you've considered in depth and you know they're right and fit with your world, but in that case it's worth thinking carefully about how to introduce them so that idiots like me don't trip up on them!

Daylight so pure was likely damaging the lingering meat-scraps he called his body,

Can daylight be impure? Perhaps a word like "potent" or "powerful" might be more suggestive of destruction?

and for this reason five of his personal guard, the King’s Skin, surrounded him, their dark mass absorbing the direct onslaught of the rays.

I love the name for them! But if it's important he stay out of the direct sun, why is he outside in a basket?! And perhaps "of the sun's rays" since you've not mentioned the sun previously in the sentence.

But by gods, he would have some sun warm him today.

Yet he's wholly shadowed by the wagraves, so he isn't actually getting the sun, but occupants of the basket would suffer both the colder temperature of the higher altitude, and the wind-chill factor of the air rushing past as they fly, so any warmth he's getting can only come from the bodies of the wagraves.

And she would do it graciously as the most talented whore, as if the task delighted her.

Does he truly believe the sun is sentient, so it has a choice of doing it "graciously" or otherwise? If so, that's very interesting, so I'd like to know something more of his/their beliefs before too long. If it's just a throwaway line, then perhaps rethink how best to express it.


As I say, this nit-picking is how I approach my own work, looking at every word to assess if it's the right one, giving the right impression, so is undoubtedly of most use on subsequent drafts when you're revising. Nonetheless, bearing word use in mind and questioning "Why have I written it like that? Does that make sense?" is a good habit to fall into even as you write a first draft.

Hope that's of some help! Take what you need and discard the rest. And good luck with the story!

 

[Far Stranger]

Thank you for reading my words and for such thorough and valuable notes. Very, very helpful. The POV advice was particularly eye-opening… Looks like I’ve been trying to get away with more than I should. And I completely recognise your approach to word choice – I’m a nit-picker too (with less expert results!) Thanks again.