The start of a story about my village

quincyk

As always, any comments will be met with great appreciation and gratitude.

A view from a hillside, where a sun reflects wide and vast beyond the plains of the lee, the gray distant hum of a cargo ship trudges softly into the sea far beyond. Flanked by a Norwegian flag, rusted by years, the gush and swirls of blue and white burst high above the frontiers of the ships stern, pointing it's nose to the vastness beyond, sharking along the northern perimeters of the rivers under-belly. Even though summer had died an early death, today, for some reason or another, it burned down across the plethora of the village, bringing about a life that seemed destined to fall down, roll and wither out with fading breaths at any given time. In the local park, children played in threes and fours, watched by the distant eyes of lonely mothers. Old men with sticks gathered at the towns heart, sheltered by shadows cast down upon them by a boarded up building, once known for business, now rotting like burns to the flesh. A teen zooms through the alleys on a bike, fleeting through the puddles borne out of gutters that never dry. Every pavement lies cracked at the surface, every road moated in dust piles, strewn with rubbish, liquid and muck. Yes, a watchful eye peering down over the the life of a town, cascading from the close to the far beyond, tells man tales, provokes many truths, uncovers the desperation reality. Grundy views this all as a nightmare incorporated into a town-plan, incorporated into a nightmare. Why, given the very fact that this town bore the brunt of his youthful years, did he persist in his vehement hatred for the whole establishment and it's dwellers?

Matt Holck

I love the flowing detail

I wish the sentence were shorter
I understand the following of actions of ships
but forget the subjects as I read along

hajjid

hi

idwc2009

hajjid wrote: »

hi

That's not a response.

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I love the way you write this. You make prose sound like poetry. Is there more?

quincyk

idwc2009 wrote: »

That's not a response.

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I love the way you write this. You make prose sound like poetry. Is there more?

Thank you. Yes, here's another small bit I added

Perhaps it was the feeling that his tour-de-force of brimming creativity was being held back by everything that surrounded him and refused to go away? Then again, if not for the shallow streets, the gray walls, the same men in the same place doing the same thing every day, perhaps his creative mindset may have been stagnated through a lack or boredom.It was a muddle of collective thought, blighted by his own repressive anxieties that led him here to this very spot, where day after day he yearned to hatch a plan, to escape the rudimentary routine of everyday life in this disheveled hole. Straying his eyes down towards the alley where there lay a man who was presumably dead to the eye, but most likely drunk, Grundy sighed and walked towards it.


He was a young man of twenty or so. Eyes rolling, teeth yellow and gapped, he lay strewn in a heap, wet from the rain that had fallen through the night, anchored down by a heavy coat draped over his lifeless frame. In his dirty hand, a bottle clasped. Empty and smeared. Grundy stared at this pity and walked away. At the entrance to the imperial dockyard, Grundy spied two men, most likely retired, sitting on stacked logs, presumably shipped in the night before. Both wore gray caps, one had a stick. A lifeless dog lay flat on his belly, it's coat pressing softly aginst the moats of dust gathered over time.

etymon

The sentences are far too long and there is overuse of commas. Here is what I would do with the first sentence, although I appreciate I'm being cheeky!-

Here is a view from a hillside, where a sun reflects wide and vast beyond the plains of the lee. The gray distant hum of a cargo ship trudges softly into the sea far beyond my field of vision.

Or far beyond something, anyhow. I have to say I like the picture being painted but the coats are being painted too thickly. Fewer words leave more to the reader's imagination!

idwc2009

There are a lot of long sentences but to me it feels a lot like being brought on a stroll through the town by a guide who has always lived in the town and the words just fall off his lips without the rational thought of someone giving a prepared speech or tour. It sounds very informal and casual, but at the same time it feels sort of intimate.

If anyone understands that bar me.

It also has the feel of an old classic where the writers weren't worried about people getting bored with the sentences half way through.

davyjose

etymon wrote: »

Here is a view from a hillside, where a sun reflects wide and vast beyond the plains of the lee. The gray distant hum of a cargo ship trudges softly into the sea far beyond my field of vision.

No offence, but the OP's opening sentence is far better.

etymon

Yeah, it's all a matter of personal choice, really. I hate long sentences. But it worked well for many. Thomas Hardy, for one. That's what this post reminded me of and I guess he didn't do too badly!

leon35

The ebb and flow oflong sentences for me reads better but for a reader this can require levels of sustained concentration in order to make subsatnce of what it is that you are trying to discribe. personally i'm a lover of writing that tests my mind and shapes in it what it is the writer is trying to get across. Is this a book or a short piece?

quincyk

Thanks for all the comments, guys.


All advise has been taken on boards; it means a lot.

Since posting the beginning of the story, I actually haven't touched it. However, with the festive period on the horizon, and a sustained break from college, I will be doing my utmost to begin again.:)

An Fear Aniar

...perhaps his creative mindset may have been stagnated through a lack or boredom.

Passive sentences tend to make the reader bored very quickly, better, I think to make them active so delete "been" and see how it reads.

against the moats of dust gathered over time.

motes of dust.

You have some style, my own personal objection is that ****all is happening but that's been the hallmark of some writers, e.g. Henry James.


.

pickarooney

Decent effort, somewhat marred by misuse of words and apostrophic abuse.
Reconsider plethora, moated, fleeting, gray (prefer 'grey', for consitency with British English 'pavement'), desperation reality, brunt.
Tour de force (achievement) and brimming (potential) are incompatible.
'lack or boredom' - lack needs an of... here