Historical Irish Novel - Chapter One

Donal Og O Baelach

CHAPTER ONE




All morning a heavy persistent rain fell from the grey sky and soaked the village and turned the hard packed earth of the road to mud. By midday two hundred people thronged the single wide street; the livestock market was held in the village of Knock, County Mayo on the second Thursday of every month. This was the August market and traditionally raised the biggest crowd of the year attracting dealers and farmers from across the county to trade a variety of animals from newly hatched chicks to draught horses.
The poor weather conditions deterred no one, those who came only to chat and poke at the animals with their sticks sat inside one of the public houses, sipping a glass of warm porter and occasionally walking to the open doorway to see if the rain was easing. The sellers came and stood in the deluge with their animals, most were men from small mountain farms in need of cash; and the buyers came, they knew that prices could be bartered down low and soft deals struck. The harder dealers watched and waited, until the cold rain seeped into the skins and into the moods of the anxious farmers and when they saw their spirits weaken and their heads bow and their bodies bend as if a weight was on them they made their move and their paltry offers were accepted with barely a token of resistance.
At the top of the street, near the church, a man sat on an upturned wooden crate beside two ewes that were tethered to the railings beside him. His name was Patrick Flahive and he had brought his sheep from Westport, a town forty miles to the west. The journey took him a full day; he had spent the night in a shed by the roadside and arrived in Knock before daylight to secure a good place on the market street.
He sat in the open; his only shelter a cloth cap and a threadbare jacket, both now black with the rain that soaked every thread of fabric on his body.
He was more than thirty years old, a tall man with wide square shoulders and a straight back that gave an impression of defiance even as he sat motionless with the water dripping from his edges. A bag containing the little food he had was carried off early in the morning by a stray dog and he was reluctant to chase after it for fear of losing his place. Another seller, seeing what happened, offered him a quarter loaf of bread but Patrick shook his head and did not even look up to acknowledge his generosity.
Later in the day the same man, a merchant selling chickens and piglets, offered him shelter under his canvas awning, but again, Patrick refused.
“Come on Man, you’re half drowned, get in under here,” the seller persisted.
Patrick, having refused once, did not even acknowledge this second offer. He sat still, his expressionless eyes staring ahead as if hypnotised by the patterns of the rain splashing into the pool of water on the road, his blackened clothes so saturated that the water just rolled off them. The trader, a short but heavily built man, walked over and shook him by the shoulder.
“Wake up! Come out of that now. Bring your box with you.”
Patrick caught hold of the man’s arm and pushed him backwards causing him to scramble in the mud and splash on his back into the brown water. He lay there a moment, stunned, then jumped up shouting curses at the man who had knocked him.
“You rotten Bastard,” he roared, scraping handfuls of mud off his jacket and flinging them at Patrick who sat motionless and did not flinch. “Ye’re no better than the pigs ye live with, you and your rotten kind.”
The man spat in Patrick’s direction then walked slowly and uncomfortably back to his stall.
All that long day only two men stopped to bargain for Patrick Flahive’s animals. The ewes were ailing, Patrick suspected they had picked up something on the journey; they had been lively and strong before he set out; now they lay in the mud, listless and glassy eyed. Both prospective buyers made paltry offers of less than half their worth and both hurried off into the crowd when faced with the seller’s menacing retort.
By seven o clock that evening with the rain still hammering down, most of the sellers had packed up. Pools of water claimed the empty spaces where the livestock had stood; the buyers retired to the shelter of the taverns but Patrick remained at his place. The seller beside him prepared to leave. It had been a bad day for him. In his seven years trading he had rarely seen a day as miserable as this with not a single let up in the deluge from morning till evening and aside from being shoved into the water, the remains of which still squelched in his boots, he had sold only three piglets. He loaded the last of the livestock and equipment onto his cart, then stood for a moment and observed the man who had so violently rebuffed his kindness.
He was a pathetic sight now, slouched on the crate, his head sunk onto his chest as water ran off the peak of his cap onto his lap. He appeared to be either asleep or dead. The sheep lay still in the mud; the white bubbles that had frothed from their mouths now washed away.
The man stood before Patrick and looked intently for any sign of life. Not daring to touch him, he poked him with his stick. Slowly, Patrick raised his head and with dull half closed eyes he squinted at the trader who took a step back to a safer distance for fear the madman would lash out again even though he did not look fit to swat a fly.
“Well sheep stealer,” he sneered at Patrick.
Patrick tried to stand but his legs would not hold him and he fell face down into the mud beside the two dead ewes. The trader roared with laughter.
“Now we’re square,” he said, savouring the justice of it. “Ye fellas make me laugh.”
He gripped Patrick by the collar, lifting his face clear of the muddy water and pushed him back so he sat leaning against the crate.
“Ye fellas makes me laugh,” he repeated, “stealing sheep from the Landlord today that you no doubt poisoned yourself yesterday, and then... and then you come down here, as thick as a blasted mule to sell them.”
He leaned heavily on his stick, and convulsed with laughter. Patrick was fit only to stare at him. Eventually the trader’s mirth subsided. He put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a wet handkerchief and wiped his dripping face with it; from the same pocket he took a small cloth purse, untied it, took out three pennies and dropped them into the front breast pocket of Patrick’s jacket.
“There now, get yourself off home or somewhere dry for the night. That’s more than fair price for two poisoned carcasses.”
He took hold of each of the dead sheep in turn and hauled them onto the back of his cart.
“I’ll not take you. I have no need for a donkey,” he laughed, jumped up onto the cart and drove off.
Lying in the wet filth, Patrick shuddered like a diseased dog. He was aware of a comfortable numbness permeating his body; all his pains had faded, in fact he did not feel anything, all feeling was gone. He considered letting death take him; he was very tired of living, life had not been kind to him. It would be easy to give it up now; but it was not in his nature.
He forced his exhausted limbs to raise him to a standing position. He swayed back and forward and opened his eyes wide and forced them to focus. He saw a building inside the railings and staggered towards it, his body jerked and lurched forward like a puppet controlled by a child. He reached the building and felt along the wall like a blind man until he came to the door. Although it was heavy it opened with a light push and Patrick fell through it onto the floor inside.
He lay there for a minute or two, glad of the dryness and warmth. He wanted to sleep but felt the numbness swamp him again and got to his feet and looked around.
He was in the aisle of a small church, rows of hard wooden benches were lined each side of him facing the stone altar at the top. A large wooden cross hung on the wall behind this and on it was a life-size carving of the crucified Christ.
“You had it easy,” said Patrick and his voice echoed around the empty chapel.
He walked towards the altar, steadying himself against the benches as he went. The communion bread was usually locked away in a side space somewhere near the altar but he could find no such cupboard here, however when he raised the white cloth that covered the altar itself, he found a shelf neatly built into it and on this was a half loaf of bread and a bottle of red wine. He knew it would be wiser to take them away and consume them elsewhere but the thought of going back to the rain sickened him.
He sat down, his back against the altar, and tore a piece off the loaf - if anyone came he would hear the footsteps approaching.
“The body of Christ,” he said before he filled his mouth with bread, then he raised the bottle in a weak salute to the tortured figure depicted in the carving, and drank from it.
Soon the bread was eaten, the bottle was empty and Patrick was asleep. He lay on his side, his head resting forward onto his forearm revealing the thick scar on the back of his neck from where a drunken doctor had removed a bullet six years before. The quiet footsteps of an approaching priest would not be enough to alert him now but the footsteps, when they came, were not from soft leather soles but heavy nailed boots and they were not walking but running.
Patrick, accustomed to waking to danger, was halfway to standing before he even remembered where he was and would have casually walked out of the church if his legs had not given out beneath him and sent him sprawling onto the floor, shattering the empty bottle he still held in his hand. He heard the crunch as a steel-capped boot kicked into his temple and his teeth clenched with pain. He jumped up, ready to stab his attacker with the neck of the broken bottle but saw that the man had gone head first into the wall behind the altar and was himself struggling unsteadily to his feet. He looked at Patrick.
“Sorry mate, I didn’t see you lying there.”
He turned away and set to his task of removing a picture of The Blessed Virgin from where it hung on the wall. Patrick lowered his weapon and watched the man. He was young, about 19 years, the paleness of his face offset by a thick mass of wet brown curls upon his head and under his long grey coat which was at least a size too big he had a short skinny build. He was having difficulty reaching high enough to release the picture from its hook.
“The BASTARD won’t budge,” he said. “Give us a leg up will you?
Patrick reached over the man’s head and unhooked the picture.
“Are you robbing it then?” he asked.
“Robbing it,” said the youth, shocked at the suggestion, “indeed I am NOT robbing it. I am taking it to be blessed.”
“Blessed?”
“Don’t you know?” asked the boy, “There is a vision taking place outside this very wall.”
“What are you raving about?” Patrick wondered if he was talking with a half-wit.
“The Holy Mother of God is outside. I’m not joking, come and see for yourself.”
A sudden burst of laughter echoed around the church. The young man tucked the picture under his arm and ran down the aisle. Patrick’s laughter turned into a painful coughing fit, he recovered from it just in time to call to the boy before he went out.
“Tell her to come in out of that rain before her halo gets rusty.”
“Tell her yourself ya drunken bollox,” said the boy and ran outside with his picture leaving Patrick to choke again on his own unfamiliar laughter.
This time the fit did not subside. It convulsed his chest and racked his body and expelled the contents of his stomach. Bread and wine splashed onto the floor. He gripped the altar for support as he struggled to breathe air into his lungs but even when the coughing eventually ceased it was as if the lungs had closed. The long strangled wheezes that echoed around the chapel gradually slowed and quietened to short irregular yelps and then to an occasional sharply whispered rasp.
This time Patrick could not force his body to obey his will.
This time he would not hear the footsteps approach.

Cavehill Red

I like it, but you break a few rules here.
Never start with the weather. Start with some action. You could probably lose nearly all of the first four paragraphs without any noticeable loss of quality.
Best not to introduce characters with 'His name was...' either. It's a case of show, don't tell.
You could have a really punchy opening here beginning with the fake eucharist action and then moving into describing the setting afterwards.
A killer opening line helps too. I always loved Burgess's opener from Earthly Powers: "It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me."
It's got everything - sex, religion, an exotic butler and a strong hint that here's an old man with a really interesting past that we're going to hear about. A killer opening line draws the reader in by the collar and makes them read.
Some good stuff is happening here, and I'd be interested to read more. I know you've worked on it for four years already, but it could definitely be tighter.

Millicent

Good assessment by Cavehill. I'd also tidy up punctuation here and there but it is definitely the start of something interesting. If you can, tidy up the formatting for this post as it is quite dense to read. If the formatting is similar to what you have in the actual manuscript, I'd tidy that up too.

ETA: I don't necessarily agree on the weather point. I think, when done well, it can be a great opening and I think it sets up the scene here quite well. However, it is worth considering starting on something more active as Cavehill suggested to really whet the appetite.

Mardy Bum

Cavehill Red wrote: »

I like it, but you break a few rules here.
Never start with the weather. .

I don't fully agree with this. As long as it is brief and it has a character of relevance then it is necessary and can be a beginning.

Cavehill Red

I just think a writer does themselves no favours opening a scene with the weather, especially the opening scene of the book. It's Elmore Leonard's rule number one about writing fiction - don't open with the weather.
Let's face it, few of them are Dickens writing Bleak House. Pathetic fallacy is generally pathetic in more than one sense of the word.
Years ago, I read the slush pile for a publisher. There were so many manuscripts coming in each day that it was nigh on impossible to even open them all up. I'd guess it's a lot harder now than it was then.
Publishers and agents are looking for quick ways to reject anything that doesn't absolutely grip them from the opening line. Kicking off with 'It was a bright sunny day, and John and Mary ...' is tantamount to inviting the professional reader to move to the next manuscript.
I'm not saying it can't be done. I'm saying I can't think of an effective example of it having been done since Dickens, and that's among published novels of the past 150 years.
Given those odds, I'd suggest any writer drop the weather from their opening and instead raise the curtain on some gripping event that will possess the reader and make them want to read on.

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100927235627AANFqD3

Millicent

Cavehill Red wrote: »

I just think a writer does themselves no favours opening a scene with the weather, especially the opening scene of the book. It's Elmore Leonard's rule number one about writing fiction - don't open with the weather.
Let's face it, few of them are Dickens writing Bleak House. Pathetic fallacy is generally pathetic in more than one sense of the word.
Years ago, I read the slush pile for a publisher. There were so many manuscripts coming in each day that it was nigh on impossible to even open them all up. I'd guess it's a lot harder now than it was then.
Publishers and agents are looking for quick ways to reject anything that doesn't absolutely grip them from the opening line. Kicking off with 'It was a bright sunny day, and John and Mary ...' is tantamount to inviting the professional reader to move to the next manuscript.
I'm not saying it can't be done. I'm saying I can't think of an effective example of it having been done since Dickens, and that's among published novels of the past 150 years.
Given those odds, I'd suggest any writer drop the weather from their opening and instead raise the curtain on some gripping event that will possess the reader and make them want to read on.

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100927235627AANFqD3

Fair point. I don't envy you the slushpile at all. Although, I did once work for an e-pub that had no slushpile. *shudders* The horror!

Mardy Bum

Cavehill Red wrote: »

I just think a writer does themselves no favours opening a scene with the weather, especially the opening scene of the book.
Let's face it, few of them are Dickens writing Bleak House. Pathetic fallacy is generally pathetic in more than one sense of the word.
Years ago, I read the slush pile for a publisher. There were so many manuscripts coming in each day that it was nigh on impossible to even open them all up. I'd guess it's a lot harder now than it was then.
Publishers and agents are looking for quick ways to reject anything that doesn't absolutely grip them from the opening line. Kicking off with 'It was a bright sunny day, and John and Mary ...' is tantamount to inviting the professional reader to move to the next manuscript.
I'm not saying it can't be done. I'm saying I can't think of an effective example of it having been done since Dickens, and that's among published novels of the past 150 years.
Given those odds, I'd suggest any writer drop the weather from their opening and instead raise the curtain on some gripping event that will possess the reader and make them want to read on.

Yes Bleak House is the best example but Dickens structure, style and form dictated this beginning. The length of that description is crazy (amazing).

Now an author can go the Dan Brown route (boom action, turn page, turn page, shock horror etc...) or they can attempt to be some what aesthetically pleasing.

kincsem

That extract is 2230 words. I read it. It is too wordy. You could say the same in less than 100 words. The more words you use the less interesting the read.

In after hours I gave an example of an opening that gets attention. It is the opening to "How to talk dirty and influence people" by Lenny Bruce. Now Lenny Bruce's intro was smutty, but it was fresh. (you can find an extract on Amazon)

This is what I got from reading your story (28 words.)

It was raining at the Knock fortnightly cattle market.
People sheltered in the pub.
It was a buyers market.
Patrick Flahive from Westport was selling sheep without success.

pickarooney

kincsem wrote: »

That extract is 2230 words. I read it. It is too wordy. You could say the same in less than 100 words. The more words you use the less interesting the read.

--

This is what I got from reading your story (28 words.)

It was raining at the Knock fortnightly cattle market.
People sheltered in the pub.
It was a buyers market.
Patrick Flahive from Westport was selling sheep without success.

I think you might be stretching a point here. While the posted excerpt is undoubtedly a little repetitious a story is about more than a bullet list of what happened to whom.

I quite liked the story and the writing style although had you not mentioned it I would not have picked up on the fact that this happened 150 years ago. I did find my eyes wandering downwards to see how much more of it was left at about the half-way point so I could imagine that if I knew there were 190,000 words I might not invest the time.

Why did you open by spending time on a character who dies after a few paragraphs? Are we going to get his backstory or was he just scenery?

Who or what is the novel about?

Donal Og O Baelach

pickarooney wrote: »

I think you might be stretching a point here. While the posted excerpt is undoubtedly a little repetitious a story is about more than a bullet list of what happened to whom.

I quite liked the story and the writing style although had you not mentioned it I would not have picked up on the fact that this happened 150 years ago. I did find my eyes wandering downwards to see how much more of it was left at about the half-way point so I could imagine that if I knew there were 190,000 words I might not invest the time.

Why did you open by spending time on a character who dies after a few paragraphs? Are we going to get his backstory or was he just scenery?

Who or what is the novel about?

The novel is about a man who lived through the famine, is emotionally damaged by the experience, and is transformed through a near-death experience in Knock in August 1879. (The date of the alleged apparition, however he saw nothing but a vision of his long dead mother - within which she forgave him for abandoning his baby sister into the workhouse after her death). It is not a religious themed novel, though a priests tries to convince him it is the mother of God that saved him.
Later, he falls in love with kitchen maid who has had an affair with her Landlord - and is blacklisted by his own Fenian organisiation.
It's set in the time of Davitt and Parnell, with a prolonged flashback to the famine in the first few chapters.
I agree with your comments about the bullet points - might work as a text message but when people settle down with a novel they are happy enough to read a long story if well written.

Thanks for the comments all - I am taking them on board and trying to improve the novel.

EileenG

I agree about the weather. I've been asked to do a lot of critiquing lately, and I've developed a hatred for anything with opens with weather or people waking up in bed.

To my mind, a much bigger problem is that you have no internal dialogue for Patrick. The reader is watching him from the outside, and what she sees is not an engaging character that would encourage her to read on and find out what happens. For instance, why does Patrick refuse all offers of food or shelter? Seems like a stupid thing to do unless you have a good reason, and you don't give us one.

Technical point: a loaf of bread in an Irish Catholic church? I have never seen one in my whole life, it's always little skinny wafers. And the wine is always locked away to keep it safe from the altar boys.

Second technical point: if Patrick has just been kicked in the temple by a strong man wearing steel capped boots, he'd have a lot more than a headache.

Also, when exactly is this set? In a historical, you have to give a time frame.

DublinWriter

I'll tell you what 100% of publishers tell me - when they get an unsolicited manuscript of a novel that starts with a description of the weather, said manuscript goes into the big cylindrical filing cabinet that lives under the desk.

NEVER! EVER! start any work of fiction with a description of the weather. Sure, James Joyce did it once in Dubliners, but he was James Joyce.

DublinWriter

...having said that, I love the idea of using the 'visions' of Knock as a backdrop to the story, reminds me of the 'Song of Bernadette'.

pavb2

Too many weather references and locations could have been introduced more subtley.
minor point would he have been addressed as mate?
Maybe change name to something unsual for now but more common at time.eg Pious Aloysius (I think?) worked well in Star of the Sea and created an atmosphere

Cavehill Red wrote: »

You could have a really punchy opening here beginning with the fake eucharist action

Agree with this.Maybe create a religious almost serene atmosphere in the church and contrast this with him being discovered by the Priest kicking the ... out of him (probably not unusual for the times) and throwing him out into the rain.This could tie in with the vision,is he drunk?dazed from the beating?or witnessing an apparition?

Came across as a strong character, down on his luck, the foreshadow of the bullet wound grabbed attention.
His back history would be interesting,ex soldier,rebel,.Wife children etc

Definitely think it has potential

Good luck

pickarooney

What about someone waking up outside in a storm? Two wrongs could make a right there.

Sparkyd2002

Dont see what the problem with the weather is here. Its not overly drawn out and its an important part of the miserable picture being painted (It is Ireland and the weather is kind of a character in itself here after all) Agree its hard to pinpoint the timeline until the reference to the apparition (Which wouldnt date it for most people). Im no literary expert, I read books for enjoyment all kinds, fact,fiction , faction) Im just a regular book reading Joe Soap as opposed to someone that can give a literary critique with any confidence. All I can say is I like the opening, makes me want to read more, find out what happens to this poor soul.

pickarooney

Cavehill Red wrote: »

A killer opening line helps too. I always loved Burgess's opener from Earthly Powers: "It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me."
It's got everything - sex, religion, an exotic butler and a strong hint that here's an old man with a really interesting past that we're going to hear about. A killer opening line draws the reader in by the collar and makes them read.

This line always gets selected as a great opener but for me a first sentence that would have 90% of readers reaching for a dictionary is a failure.

Donal Og O Baelach

The weather is included both as a point of historical accuracy (it was lashing it down in Knock that day) and also to add to the general tension of the misery. The time setting, I think, would be reasonably well telegraphed to a person buying the book. They would already have read back cover, front blurb, etc. - a novel set in the West of Ireland in 1879.

pickarooney

I may be being unfair to Connacht but surely endless pissing rain is the default weather for Mayo and there would be nothing really remarkable about it on this particular day?

Regarding the time setting, you might be missing the point. Of course the reader will be aware from the dust jacket that the book is set in 1879 but if the same text could have been written about any day in the West of Ireland in the last 500 years where's the historical hook? I assume there are indicators as the book progresses that will place the action in a more definite time period, but for now at least we've only your foreword to go on that this is 1879.

You're in that unenviable position at the moment where you think the book is finished but people reading it won't necessarily think so and people who aren't you won't necessarily want to buy it. You will, like it or not, have to make some changes and sacrifices if this is ever to be published and sold. If it's any consolation, you will always have this 190,000 word version of your story, your Director's Cut, if you wish, even if one day it ends up at 90,000 words with half the characters wiped and a tacked-on romance... and on 50,000 bookshelves.

Ask yourself which is more important to you right now - critical feedback that may, if you take it on board, make your book more appealing, or encouragement that if you keep plugging away with this version of your work you will eventually find a buyer.

pavb2

Agree with above comment also read thread on a/h.

I appreciate it's difficult having invested so much time in to something I would treat what you have so far as a first draft (even though this may not be the case).

I would probably look at other projects (put a bit of distance between this one) and come back to it with a view to edit edit edit over a long period say 6-12 months.

I would have many different versions of my own work having gone back and editing,nothing significant but technical improvements.

All the best

Kinski

I think it's a little dogmatic to say "Never start with the weather". A few years back the journal American Book Review published a list of what it described as the "100 Best First Lines From Novels". Amongst the selections were:

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen" Orwell, 1984

"The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new" Beckett, Murphy

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel" Gibson, Neuromancer

...and a few other examples (including "It was a dark and stormy night", but that one sucks!) I suppose what the ones I've picked out have in common is that they are all distinctive, and all successfully set the tone for what follows. In the case of Orwell, the conventionality of the beginning of the sentence, "A bright cold day in April", sets up a particular kind of expectation about the kind of story coming, which is undermined by "the clocks were striking thirteen". In Gibson's case, I think it's the ironic effect of describing a natural sight - the colour of the sky - in terms of the artifical appearance of a TV screen that really works, and resonates with the subject matter of the novel (the real vs the virtual, etc.)

So weather can work as an opening line, the trick is imo to avoid being too generic, and to avoid opening with the weather just cause you can't think of another way. I probably haven't been much help, but I always feel the need to challenge these supposed axioms about what does and does not work in fiction. Good luck!

EileenG

I'd make an exception for anyone waking up in bed with Brad Pitt (especially if it's a guy) or anyone waking up tied to the railway tracks. Even in a storm.

EileenG

Yes, it's possible to have a great opening that includes weather, but putting weather into your opening is stacking the odds against you. It's on a par with sending a manuscript typed in red ink or covered in tippex. There could be a great story there, but the odds are against it.

What stuck me was that the weather DIDN'T set the scene enough to make me want to read on, it was just depressing default Irish weather. Start with Patrick, and have him doing something that makes me want to find out more. Weave in the nasty weather as you go.

By the way, what was wrong with the sheep? Irish sheep are hardy, rain won't kill them. And when he saw that his sheep were not in good form, why didn't Patrick try to do something to help them? All that sitting round like a statue seems pointless.

Donal Og O Baelach

EileenG wrote: »

Yes, it's possible to have a great opening that includes weather, but putting weather into your opening is stacking the odds against you. It's on a par with sending a manuscript typed in red ink or covered in tippex. There could be a great story there, but the odds are against it.

What stuck me was that the weather DIDN'T set the scene enough to make me want to read on, it was just depressing default Irish weather. Start with Patrick, and have him doing something that makes me want to find out more. Weave in the nasty weather as you go.

By the way, what was wrong with the sheep? Irish sheep are hardy, rain won't kill them. And when he saw that his sheep were not in good form, why didn't Patrick try to do something to help them? All that sitting round like a statue seems pointless.

I do appreciate these replies, but as an opening chapter in a novel you have to expect that some things will become apparant as the work progresses. I didn't seriously imagine that the sheep died as a result of being out on a rainy day; they had been poisoned, they belonged to the landlord and Patrick had stolen them without realising their state. Patrick didn't try to help them because, if you reread it, he is quite seriously ill himself and in no state to care.

Incidentally, the publisher who asked for a re-write regarded the opening as very strong - just shows many people have different opinions. I like it well enough but agree that it doesn't jump out and grab the reader.

Cavehill Red

pickarooney wrote: »

This line always gets selected as a great opener but for me a first sentence that would have 90% of readers reaching for a dictionary is a failure.

If there's a word there in that line you don't know without recourse to a dictionary, you probably shouldn't be trying to read grown up books.

Cavehill Red

Kinski wrote: »

I think it's a little dogmatic to say "Never start with the weather". A few years back the journal American Book Review published a list of what it described as the "100 Best First Lines From Novels". Amongst the selections were:

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen" Orwell, 1984

"The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new" Beckett, Murphy

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel" Gibson, Neuromancer

The first two are actually satirising the 'weather opening' by way of introducing disturbing and novel concepts into the cliché, and the third is, as all too much of Gibson's prose is, jarringly bad.

Millicent

Cavehill Red wrote: »

If there's a word there in that line you don't know without recourse to a dictionary, you probably shouldn't be trying to read grown up books.

That's a bit uncalled for. I doubt "catamite" would be a familiar word to many.

EileenG

Donal Og O Baelach wrote: »

I do appreciate these replies, but as an opening chapter in a novel you have to expect that some things will become apparant as the work progresses. I didn't seriously imagine that the sheep died as a result of being out on a rainy day; they had been poisoned, they belonged to the landlord and Patrick had stolen them without realising their state. Patrick didn't try to help them because, if you reread it, he is quite seriously ill himself and in no state to care.

Incidentally, the publisher who asked for a re-write regarded the opening as very strong - just shows many people have different opinions. I like it well enough but agree that it doesn't jump out and grab the reader.

Of course you don't have to, or even should, explain everything at the beginning. But you do have to hook your reader, and a description of weather doesn't do it for me.

Why not put in something about the poisoned sheep early on, to tantalise the reader into wanting to know more.

Do you mind telling me which publisher thought that was a strong opening?

For what it's worth, the book I'm reading right now starts "The pipe under the sink was leaking again. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that Nick kept his favourite sword under the sink."

Millicent

EileenG wrote: »

Why not put in something about the poisoned sheep early on, to tantalise the reader into wanting to know more.

Ooh, I really like that idea. Something along the lines of "August [forgot exact date] 1879 was the day the sheep died [...]" Something a bit more exciting than that but a teaser to start things off.

Cavehill Red

Millicent wrote: »

That's a bit uncalled for. I doubt "catamite" would be a familiar word to many.

It's a simple three syllable word with a well-established meaning for many centuries, discernible from Latin for those who aren't familiar with its dictionary meaning but are familiar with Latin.

It's a familiar word in many classical texts, is a term used in discussions of homosexuality and a common piece of gay argot, and was used often in media discussions about the clerical sex abuse scandals.

Okay, you probably won't come across it in The Sun, The Dandy, or in Topsy and Tim's First Day at School.

But if that sort of word throws a reader, and they can't discern its fairly obvious meaning from the context, and they find it such a terrible strain to look up words the odd time, then maybe literature's not for them.

Millicent

Cavehill Red wrote: »

It's a simple three syllable word with a well-established meaning for many centuries, discernible from Latin for those who aren't familiar with its dictionary meaning but are familiar with Latin.

It's a familiar word in many classical texts, is a term used in discussions of homosexuality and a common piece of gay argot, and was used often in media discussions about the clerical sex abuse scandals.

Okay, you probably won't come across it in The Sun, The Dandy, or in Topsy and Tim's First Day at School.

But if that sort of word throws a reader, and they can't discern its fairly obvious meaning from the context, and they find it such a terrible strain to look up words the odd time, then maybe literature's not for them.

I see where you're coming from. I agree that it should not be a strain to pick up a dictionary to check a word while reading but I think Pickarooney was suggesting that it is better to err on the side of caution and not use any terminology that might jar a reader out of a story on the first read. I don't necessarily agree but just pointing out that a word like "catamite" is not always going to be understood by every reader.

Cavehill Red

Millicent wrote: »

I see where you're coming from. I agree that it should not be a strain to pick up a dictionary to check a word while reading but I think Pickarooney was suggesting that it is better to err on the side of caution and not use any terminology that might jar a reader out of a story on the first read. I don't necessarily agree but just pointing out that a word like "catamite" is not always going to be understood by every reader.

It mightn't be immediately familiar to every reader, sure. But it's clearly discernible from the context that it means some sort of sexual partner, and given it's the oul lad's 81st birthday, probably a younger one, and probably one that has to be paid.
Burgess was certainly guilty of logorrhoea just as Joyce his idol was. But this isn't an example of it, I don't think.
To be honest, it's the sort of simple thing that really makes an opening line. It's an arresting word that makes you stop and think. Even a banal opening would benefit from the injection of a word like catamite:

"It was raining from the heavens when my young boyfriend Mike rang the doorbell' versus "I found my catamite soaked to the skin on my doorstep during the storm."

Both banal, but one has that hook of something unusual to make you more inclined to carry on as a reader.

Back to the OP, I think it sounds like he's got his plotting nailed down. But his word length is over for a first novel, and the excerpt he's provided could be trimmed to be more impactful while not harming the action or plot, and would have the benefit of making it a shorter, tighter, more appealing prospect to publishers.
I know he's spent a lot of time on it already, but that's all the more reason not to waste the work already done. In his shoes, I'd give it one more tight edit, looking to eradicate the likes of weather descriptions and highlight the qualities of his book - the time, the place, the people and the unusual events he's chosen to chronicle.

kincsem

I'm back. My earlier post said you were using too many words to tell your story. That was not well received, but if you want something different you have to change things.

I am not a writer, but I have read On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King (I got it in the local library). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_Writing

One tip he gives (among many) is to get rid of adverbs. So delete these from your opening - traditionally newly only heavily slowly only lively rarely violently Slowly heavily only Eventually usually neatly casually unsteadily eventually gradually sharply - "thoroughly avoid the use of unnecessary adverbs"

You must have a copy of Strunk and White's The Elements of Style and New Hart's Rules (Oxford University Press). Do you?

old_aussie

All morning......persistent

If it was all morning, then it was understood to be persistent.

Like writing "it was more better"

kincsem

Get rid of these adverbs

harder better safer wiser

biggest

more more
most most


Avoid passive voice

He appeared to be either asleep or dead
I am taking it to be blessed
the livestock market was held in the village of Knock
attracting dealers and farmers from across the county to trade a variety of animals
those who came only to chat and (to) poke at the animals
they knew that prices could be bartered down
their paltry offers were accepted

find “were” and remove it. Rewrite the sentences.


I'm sure there are many more heavy sentences. Change the examples above to freshen the writing and look for more.

kincsem

These are weak

Motionless
Expressionless
Motionless
Listless
Numbness
Dryness
Numbness
Paleness


Here you say the same think twice

In his seven years trading he had rarely seen a day as miserable as this with not a single let up in the deluge from morning till evening

kincsem

I do not write. This is a list writing style books on my shelves. I am retired. I was an accountant.

Essential English for Journalists, Editors and Writers by Harold Evans
Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss
Good English Guide by Harry Fieldhouse
Penguin writers' guides

• How to Punctuate by George Davidson
• How to Write Better English by Robert Allen
• Improve Your Spelling by George Davidson

Writing Tools by Roy Peter Clark
Your Writing Coach by Jurgen Wolfe
My Grammar and I by Caroline Taggart and J A Wines
The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E B White
Report Writing in Business by Trevor J Bentley
Secrets of Successful Writing by DeWitt H Scott
New Hart's Rules by R M Ritter

pickarooney

old_aussie wrote: »

All morning......persistent

If it was all morning, then it was understood to be persistent.

Like writing "it was more better"

This kind of thing comes up a few times. You repeat the point in kincsem's example. Try ask yourself at the end of each sentence if you have learned anything new from it. If not, get rid of it. Rather than (I'm simplifying obviously) saying "It was raining. It was raining a lot. There was a lot of rain" just say it once and say it well.

Millicent

kincsem wrote: »

I do not write. This is a list writing style books on my shelves. I am retired. I was an accountant.

Essential English for Journalists, Editors and Writers by Harold Evans
Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss
Good English Guide by Harry Fieldhouse
Penguin writers' guides

• How to Punctuate by George Davidson
• How to Write Better English by Robert Allen
• Improve Your Spelling by George Davidson

Writing Tools by Roy Peter Clark
Your Writing Coach by Jurgen Wolfe
My Grammar and I by Caroline Taggart and J A Wines
The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E B White
Report Writing in Business by Trevor J Bentley
Secrets of Successful Writing by DeWitt H Scott
New Hart's Rules by R M Ritter

Avoid Strunk and White. A lot of their grammar rules are plain incorrect and have lead to a lot of errors being accepted as fact.

Millicent

kincsem wrote: »

Get rid of these adverbs

harder better safer wiser

biggest

more more
most most


Avoid passive voice

He appeared to be either asleep or dead
I am taking it to be blessed
the livestock market was held in the village of Knock
attracting dealers and farmers from across the county to trade a variety of animals
those who came only to chat and (to) poke at the animals
they knew that prices could be bartered down
their paltry offers were accepted

find “were” and remove it. Rewrite the sentences.


I'm sure there are many more heavy sentences. Change the examples above to freshen the writing and look for more.

Also, a few of your examples aren't passive. Passive refers to when the person or thing that are performing an action are not described, such as in your example "their paltry offers were accepted." There's nothing wrong with passive in certain contexts. Good explanation here.

EileenG

Anyway, the point is, be ruthless in editing.

I highly recommended Noah Lukeman's The First Five Pages.

The first exercise he recommends is to take a page of your story, list and then remove all adjectives and adverbs, and try to rewrite that page using stronger nouns and verbs. It's painful to do, but it makes a huge difference to your prose.

Liberal use of adjectives and adverbs is a red flag to editors.

kincsem

Millicent wrote: »

Also, a few of your examples aren't passive. Passive refers to when the person or thing that are performing an action are not described, such as in your example "their paltry offers were accepted." There's nothing wrong with passive in certain contexts. Good explanation here.

My grammar is poor. I buy books to learn. My aim was to guide the author to books that will help his writing.
I know there is criticism of Strunk & White. If our author has not read the book should he? The book is almost a hundred years old. There is much sense in its ninety pages.
The best help for a writer is reading.

Strunk & White
Original
There were a great number of dead leaves covering the ground.
Improved
Dead leaves covered the ground.

Our author
Original
Their paltry offers were accepted.
Is this better / fresher?
They accepted paltry offers.

Insect Overlord

kincsem wrote: »

Our author
Original
Their paltry offers were accepted.
Is this better / fresher?
They accepted paltry offers.

Going by what you've said there, the people character(s) accepting the offer is not the same in your edit as the character(s) accepting the offer in the OP's original. With that in mind, it's not better at all.

kincsem

I would like the writer to freshen his sentences. They are too complex, there is too much repetition, and there is confusion. He uses “their” seven times in the short second paragraph.

The harder dealers watched and waited, until the cold rain seeped into the skins and into the moods of the anxious farmers and when they saw their [the sellers] spirits weaken and their [the sellers] heads bow and their [the sellers] bodies bend as if a weight was on them they made their [the buyers] move and their [the buyers] paltry offers were accepted with barely a token of resistance.

Both prospective buyers made paltry offers of less than half their [the sheep] worth and both hurried off into the crowd when faced with the seller’s menacing retort.

"Their" and "paltry" repeated. Words repeated in conversation are crutches - "like", "you know what I mean". If you repeat unusual words (paltry) readers notice.

This is my last post. The writer's submission was rejected because it was not good enough for publication. He must make changes. He must improve. Posters appear to be afraid to comment negatively or positively on the paragraphs submitted. They prefer to comment on comments.

Cavehill Red

kincsem wrote: »

This is my last post. The writer's submission was rejected because it was not good enough for publication.

There is no evidence of that. The publisher may have passed for financial reasons or because their roster is currently full. He'll only know when the publisher feeds back to his agent.

kincsem wrote: »

He must make changes. He must improve.

While a tighter edit is no bad thing, I don't see how he needs to change or improve his writing. It's already secured him an agent.

kincsem wrote: »

Posters appear to be afraid to comment negatively or positively on the paragraphs submitted. They prefer to comment on comments.

I already commented on the submitted text. Now I'm commenting on your posts. I'll say this generically - any writer who takes the advice of someone who admits to having poor grammatical ability and who doesn't write themselves needs their head examined.

Esel

At this stage - catamite, tbh.

cobsie

kincsem wrote: »

The best help for a writer is reading.

I absolutely agree with this. I don't think any style guide will help a writer who doesn't read. I think reading - whatever your taste - is the best way to learn.

pavb2

Hey OP I remembered this thread so was interested in how things have progressed since.

Donal Og O Baelach

Hi Pavb2,

I took on board a lot of the advice from this thread (Stephen King's "On Writing" is well worth a read) and completed a thorough re-write of the manuscript in March. I cut a large section out of the novel, shortening it by 20,000 wds. Before I did it, it felt almost sacrilegious to chop those scenes, but afterwards, it didnt seem such a big deal. The book has a new title and is being sent out to more publishers. I am working on a new book which uses the section I cut out.

Thanks to everyone who gave me feedback here, (I should have acknowledged this before now:o) It helped me a lot.

pavb2

Seems to bear out the best of advice 'murder your darlings' etc but also (can't remember who said it) to leave a piece under the bed for 6 months and come back to it with a fresh pair of eyes.

I know once I've 'finished' a piece I'm sick of the sight of it but always come back later with renewed enthusiasm