posted
And so, here I am. This time I start at the start, where Silvia is taken.
quote: When May woke up on a chilly summer day, she knew she was about to die. A strange disease had hit her, and was only gaining a firmer grip on her with every day. It seemed to attack every part of her at once: her throat was being ripped apart, her head about to explode, her stomach filled with rocks—the list of complaints went on and on.
But May knew that if she died, her young sister Silvia, who was only around eight years, would be hard pressed to survive. Silvia, though tougher than most children her age, just didn't have the tremendous strength needed to keep the land fertile. Plowing, weeding—farming was constant work.
If May gave in, if she accepted that the disease had beat her, she would die peacefully. Her life would be over. And so would the pain. Moaning, she closed her eyes, ready to leave the world.
No, she thought. I can't do it. Trembling, she lifted her head up to look out a stone window. In the distance, playing on a large rock, was Silvia. I have to fight on for her sake, if not mine
[This message has been edited by Phanto (edited February 29, 2004).]
posted
Why doesn't May know how old her sister is? It seems strange to say that she was around 8 or 9 years.
The rest of it will have to sit for a little while, I'm not sure what I'm thinking about it...it was intriguing, but I don't have any specifics for you yet.
Right on, very intriguing at first...but it's a bit difficult to take in at once. The first thing that hit me is your first sentence:
quote:...she had a nagging suspicions that she was about to die.
This bugs me a bit because if I had the sense that I was about to die it would be rather more than a "nagging suspicion"...to me it would be more of a "terrifying suspicion" or a "horrible sense". The way it is now gives me the impression that she doesn't much care about her death, which isn't supported by the following paragraph.
posted
Yes, I like that much better, it's much more stunning as a blunt statement I think.
The last part is also a point of contention for me...it seems a bit forced or overdramatic at this point in the story. The phrasing when she thinks:
quote: ...playing on a large rock, was Silvia. I have to fight on for her sake, if not mine...
It seems a tad soap opera-ish for me(and as a grammatical point scratch that comma where it says "large rock, was Silvia" it's unnecessary.) Maybe if you make it a bit more subtle somehow so it's less forced. I hope you understand what I'm getting at.
posted
Okay, people that can't track the number of years precisely wouldn't have years as a common measurement of time. This is uncommon because on a planet like Earth, everyone is subject to pretty clearly evident seasonal changes. Near the equator, you have monsoons and typhoons and migrations and that sort of thing occurring on a regular basis. Everywhere else, you have seasons, which are a dead giveaway.
If you want to imply that their system of determining a child's age was different (traditionally, Chinese New Year is everyone's 'birthday' for instance--a child born in January may well be a year old before the umbilical plug falls off), then use a phrase that implies some such difference.
The list of complaints is over the top...even if this is meant literally, which I don't think is possible--who's ever heard of a disease that filled your stomach with rocks?
Change the phrase, "tremendous strength needed to keep the land fertile."
"If May gave in...she would die peacefully." This is May's POV. Don't be afraid to say she was tempted to give in. It comes across better than silly arguments to 'prove' that she has it so hard.
If May supposedly lives in or near a community, why is she not aware of this fact? Why do we get a narration that excludes utterly the idea that anyone else exists in this world aside from May and Silvia?
It's like the out of place statement about weeding. Why on Earth would primitive farmers bother with weeding? This is an area where you need to do a little research, I'm afraid. Pick a form of pre-industrial agricultural society and find out what they actually did, both for food production and for orphans (as well as getting an idea of how closely tied to the seasonal year these people would have been).
You must build the milieu. If the world you create can't hold itself together even this long into the narrative, how can anyone believe in the story?
posted
I hope I'm not annoying, posting my rework every 10 days or so, but I'm a junior writer and need to learn from the pros.
That said:
quote: When May woke up on a cold summer day, she knew she was about to die. It was a painful truth, but there was no point in hiding from it. Denial was fools' gold—it made people happy, while being utterly worthless. And the fact was that May was sick: every several minutes she would start coughing uncontrollably, hacking up blood.
"Silvia," she called, hoarsely.
Her young sister, Silvia, peeked into May's room from behind an empty doorframe. Their small house, which only had three rooms, didn't have doors inside of it, that was too expensive. Instead, they had holes in the walls.
"Yes?" Silvia curled her frizzy red hair with a finger, while looking nervously at May. "Do you want me to get you anything? Are you feeling better?"
May smiled faintly, almost breaking into laughter. Silvia really loved her. "I'm feeling a little better," May lied, forcing herself not to cough. "Don't come any closer—I don't want you catching it."
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