Edit: could use a stronger start

I've been neglectful of these, and I apologize to those who've sent samples. Here's one from February, so kindly sent by Dawn. Here are the first couple of pages:

2040 - Rub-al Khali (The Empty Quarter)

Boccaha was a small fat balding man with bad teeth. He hadn't bathed in so long his skin resembled an elephant's hide, old, leathered. He had the sores of the time, but beneath the grime were the markings of the Shaman. Once a great man, he was one of the last, just one in a handful with the memory of The Change. He had been there and watched, as the earth became a planet of disease and anger. He watched as the population dwindled and the only babies born were by man's design. When earth became the playing field for an insidious ancient war. He carried on the stories of the huge black ships that came from the sky, when the people, one by one, gathered he retold the stories of the promises made and the promises broken.

Now, his age beyond years and no more magic up his sleeve, he sits in the reflection of the night fires and recounts the stories his hands making shadows on the cave walls. The adults smile, the few children sit in awe. Their mouths gape, hands with shards of dirty blankets jerked up tight over the littlest ones' eyes. His voice deep and trembling, his eyes grow wide and his voice bellows like thunder. "Just then, the big ship passed over the sun, blackening our planet below." His voice was deep and slow.

And as if on perfect cue, the fire would spark, a log would split, turning the cave a hallow orange. "Juggernaut!" Boccaha's voice jumps and pounds, echoing throughout the cavernous walls. Little ones bury their faces in their mothers' bosom. The shadow shape of the scarab fills the dirt walls and ceilings. His hands cast the huge shadow on the wall. The children jump and scream. Boccaha laughs a deep belly rumble.

Hearing the sarcastic scoff from behind the gathered children, he leaned hard on his walking stick and made his way through the family seated around the fire to find the young man leaning against the wall, away from the group, in the shadows. "Ah, I expected you to become bitter Juno. Can't say that I blame you. I would be as well if my father ran off when I was only a boy of eight. Boccaha shifted his walking stick in front of him and leaned forward on it, "leaving me to tend to my mother and grow old so fast. But then he did manage to send you this ancient trinket." Boccaha reached for the pendant hanging by an aged leather strap about Juno's neck.

Juno's hand seized Boccaha's throat. Towering over Boccaha, Juno lowered his face. "You arrogant son-of-a-bitch" he murmured through clenched teeth. Boccaha's hand dropped from the strap, letting the scarab shaped pendant swing like a pendulum. The fire's flames cast the moving shape against the cavernous walls, like a ghost. The Family watched, seeing the image Boccaha had made with his hands for so many years come to life.

"I'll make you a deal old man-you never speak of my father again, and I won't kill you." Juno's thick deep eyebrows raised and the blue of his eyes pierced Boccaha's aging body like a thousand poison darts.

Boccaha stepped back from Juno swallowing hard and rubbing his throat and shaking. "Young One, I'm already dead. Like all of us. We are just leftover fodder that didn't get ingested or disposed of long ago. I only tell the stories to amuse the Little Ones. To help them forget what is apparent to everyone here but YOU!" Boccaha's voice trembled in fear trying hard not to lose face in front of his last handful of believers.

First line editing, and then some opinion.

2040 - Rub-al Khali (The Empty Quarter)

Boccaha was a small fat balding man with bad teeth. He hadn't bathed in so long his skin resembled an elephant's hide old, leathered these adjectives are redundant, I think, 'cause most know what an elephant's hide looks like. He had the sores of the time, but beneath the grime were the markings of the Shaman suggest adding something like "tattooed" before "markings" to give a more clear picture. Once a great man, he was one of the last one of the last whats?, just one in a handful with the memory of The Change. He had been there and watched, as the earth became a planet of disease and anger. He watched as the population dwindled and the only babies born were by man's design. When earth became the playing field for an insidious ancient war. He carried on the stories of the huge black ships that came from the sky, when the people, one by one, gathered he retold the stories of the promises made and the promises broken. Last sentence didn't make sense to me. Maybe make it two: He carried on stories of the huge black ships that came from the sky. When the people gathered, one by one, he retold the stories of the promises made and the promises broken. (note small edits in sentences)

You've summed up a lot of history quickly. While this may be okay, as it does raise story questions about what happened to Earth, and this isn't an uncommon approach in science fiction, for me the paragraph didn't provide the kind of hook that I think works best -- an interesting character encountering a problem.

Now, his age beyond years and no more magic up his sleeve "up his sleeve" a tired cliché, he sits in the reflection of the night fires what are the fires reflecting from? or do you really mean the light or the glow and recounts the stories, Needed a comma there. his hands making shadows on the cave walls. The adults smile, the few children sit in awe. Their mouths gape, hands with shards of dirty blankets jerked up tight over the littlest ones' eyes. His voice deep and trembling, his eyes grow wide and his voice bellows like thunderanother clichéd phrase. "Just then, the big ship passed over the sun, blackening our planet below." His voice was deep and slow. Last sentence repeats "deep" description, and he was just bellowing, which doesn't seem slow. I don't think this sentence is needed.

And as if on perfect cue, the fire would spark, a log would split, turning the cave a hallow orange not sure what you mean by "hallow" here. I looked it up, and found a verb form meaning religious or a synonym for hollow. Neither seems to apply. Can you clarify?. "Juggernaut!" Boccaha's voice jumps and pounds, echoing throughout the cavernous walls Walls? This needs to be included earlier -- I'd imagined a fire outdoors, but this suggests it's inside. Inside of what?. Little ones bury their faces in their mothers' bosoms. The shadow shape of the scarab fills the dirt walls and ceilings dirt walls and ceilings of what? A cave?. His hands cast the huge shadow on the wall His casting seems to come after the shadow appears when said this way. How about combining the thoughts, i.e. His hands cast the huge shadow shape of the scarab over the dirt walls and ceiling. The children jump and scream. Boccaha laughs a deep belly rumble.

Hearing the a sarcastic scoff don't think you need "sarcastic" -- seems like a scoff has a sarcastic quality by definition from behind the gathered children, he leaned hard on his walking stick and made his way through the family seated around the fire to find the young man leaning against the wall, away from the group, in the shadows. We just shifted from present tense to past tense. I think it should be one or the other, and should be reconciled. I see no narrative reason for the shift. Is the rest of the story past or present? "Ah, I expected you to become bitter, needed a comma Juno. Can't say that I blame you. I would be as well if my father ran had run off when I was only a boy of eight." missing a quote mark Boccaha shifted his walking stick in front of him and leaned forward on it,. "lLeaving me to tend to my mother and grow old so fast. But then he did manage to send you this ancient trinket." Boccaha reached for the pendant hanging by an aged leather strap about Juno's neck.

Juno's hand seized Boccaha's throat. Suggest "Juno seized Boccaha's throat." The reader will visualize that he uses his hand or hands. Give the action to the person, not their parts. Towering over Boccaha him, Juno lowered his face. "You arrogant son-of-a-bitch" he murmured through clenched teeth. I don't think people really speak with their teeth clenched -- too hard to do. They clench them, and then speak. IMO Boccaha's hand dropped from the strap, letting the scarab shaped need to hyphenate compound adjective, i.e. "scarab-shaped" pendant swing like a pendulum. The fire's flames cast the moving shape against the cavernous walls, like a ghost. The Family watched, seeing the image Boccaha had made with his hands for so many years come to life.

“I’ll make you a deal, needed a comma old man-you never speak of my father again, and I won’t kill you.” Juno’s thick deep eyebrows one too many adjectives there, IMO raised and the blue of his eyes pierced Boccaha’s aging body like a thousand poison darts "blue” piercing a body bothered me, was so unreal that it took me out of the narrative. Maybe the anger in his blue eyes could do the assaulting (which might be a better word than “pierced”).

Boccaha stepped back from Juno, needed a comma swallowing hard and rubbing his throat and shaking. “Young One, I’m already dead. Like all of us. We are just leftover fodder that didn’t get ingested or disposed of long ago. I only tell the stories to amuse the Little Ones. To help them forget what is apparent to everyone here but YOU!” Boccaha’s voice trembled in fear trying hard not to lose face in front of his last handful of believers. This sentence construction has his voice trying not to lose face.

I liked the quality of the writing here, though there were some comma faults and things to tend to, especially the shift from present tense to past tense. The world sounds interesting, too, and I would probably read on.

However, I think the opening paragraph should be the one where Juno grabs Boccaha by the throat. I’d follow that with a quick scene-setting (the fire, the Family gathered ‘round, staring silently, the dirt walls & ceiling of the wherever they are). As Boccaha responds, the other backstory can be weaved in with dialogue, internal monologue, etc.

Opening with the physical threat creates immediate tension that will carry the reader through the exposition, and should create sympathy for the old man as well as raise a compelling story question—will Boccaha be choked to death, or will he get out of this somehow?

For what it’s worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

© 2006 Ray Rhamey