The Word Cloud

Hello those of you that have been kind enough to read this far.
My only experience up to now of writng has been reading it. I had an idea for a story and decided to give it a bash.
There has been no editing and I have only read it back once so I apologise now for the typos etc. I am posting it up hear to see what response it gets and to see if its worth carrying on. I have written 3 chapters so far but have only posted one for the now.
I dont have a title as yet I'm afraid.
Here goes........

My Dear Reader,

Be seated, arrange your comfort and be still; ‘tis not every day that a tale that tickles the tangles of your being and strikes fear into the depths of the bravest of souls gets a voice. A tale so magical and terrible, that only the stoutest of hearts and most courageous of minds will endure it to the end.

You would be well advised my learned friend to close these pages, hide this volume, destroy it if you must, and read no further. Tend to your life, raise a family, invent a cure for a terrible disease and many years from now on your final bed you may be glad you read no further, but...........think on dear friend....... what if? What if these pages hold the answers you seek or the questions you never thought to ask. Is it worth the risk? Only you can decide.
For my part it is too late, my destiny is sealed and forever linked to these pages, for as I lay on my final bed I must tell this tale so that my tired bones may rest in the ever after, at peace.
My friend I leave it to you. Choose wisely and as with all decisions of the upmost importance follow your heart.
Signed
Lord Montague Smith Smythe Smith.



Chapter 1 Explosion
All the finest tales find their beginning on the darkest and stormiest of nights, the wind tearing through the trees imitating the most evil of banshees and lightning striking the silhouettes of the long dead remains of a disfigured oak in the darkest and dampest of hollows. Alas my intrepid friend this tale does not. We must travel to the lowliest of towns in the quietest corner of the smallest of counties in the realm of Arras. The town of Danje has for many a year been a sleepy haven for its peace loving and gentle folk, and indeed, thankfully, the events of this tale would leave the larger part of the inhabitants untouched and unscathed. Not all were so lucky; many tales tell the tallest of stories about the bravest of deeds and as you have read this far you will be relieved to discover that this account of events is no different; indeed, we have travelled to Arras to find the hero of our tale.

Angus Shamrock was a young man from ordinary stock with few unusual features, his hair was blond, he was of average height and build he was skinny in the way that most teenage boys tend to be ,if you asked any girls of his age they would say he wasn’t bad looking although perhaps his breath did smell sometimes. His parents both worked at run of the mill jobs in sales, selling what, depended on the month, such wonders as pimple backed ptarmigans would appear on their modest market stall one day and the next it might be hens eggs, but sell they did, or so Angus took for granted as he never went hungry or wanted for a dry place to sleep.
Angus was of average height with average hair and average clothes but our hero stood out from the crowd because of the sparkle in his eye and the sharpness of his mind. Angus detested school, so much so he never really went. His teachers accepted the forged absence excuse notes without exception, as long as he kept passing exams and handing in his homework they didn’t seem to care. Angus’ true love lay in machines and tools, days of his life were spent dreaming up ways to solve problems and making some of the wildest contraptions you have ever seen. Some inventions were more successful than others, for example, his use of pulleys, ropes, planks of wood and full bags of corn to make a platform that would move objects between floors of his house was a huge hit with his parents, he called it the ‘Elevamatotronathon’ but everyone (apart from Angus) shortened it to ‘the lift’, as that’s what it did. Other contraptions however were not so popular like the ‘Autopageaturnathonotron’ which essentially was an elaborate mechanism installed above ones bed in order to automatically turn the pages of a book for the reader, ostensibly the majority of folk found it easier to use their hand and even the deluxe model with candle holder caused an increase in minor house fires that simply couldn’t be ignored.
Angus was always happiest when he was alone, allowed to think and create, he managed most of the time to ignore the niggly little feeling that sometimes, just sometimes it might be nice to share his dreams and ideas with someone else.
On the night our tale began Angus was to be found where he was always found, in the cellar of his house. Mr and Mrs Shamrock had no use for the dark, damp depths of their home and were more than happy for Angus to disappear for hours at a time into his sacred grotto. On many occasions’ loud bangs, bright flashes, multi coloured lights and smoke would emit from under the ill-fitting ancient door, but inevitably no one would come, no one saw or cared, or so Angus thought, and this pleased him immensely.


I hope my dear reader that you are still awake and that my tale has not yet sent you running and reaching for books of, shall we say, “a less intriguing nature”. Well my friends, keep a sharp mind and a watchful eye, the plot thickens, mystery deepens and not all things are as they seem...........

Cordelia Primrose Kite was not a normal teenage girl. At fifteen years old Cordelia had already seen the horrors of a hundred lifetimes and felt the pain of a thousand people, she had endured more than I could ever imagine or even wish to tell you and those tales shall remain untold. Cordelia loved life, she revelled in its variety and brilliance and rejoiced at all she could, her glass was always half full and every day she started with a smile. You, as my intrepid reader and fellow adventurer may find this surprising especially when you learn that Cordelia had no home, no parents and no money, you may find it even more shocking when you learn that she had existed this way ever since she was only ten years old. Cordelia wore wild flowers in her hair and kept sunshine in her heart and all who met her were touched even if they were too numb to realise.
Miss Primrose Kite loved to travel and in her many years of wandering she had travelled the length and breadth of Arras, in many places she stayed just long enough to be chased away and in others just long enough to steal the food she needed. When Cordelia arrived in Denje she had intended to stay long enough to steal food, water and clothing to shield her from the coming cruel winter months, indeed she had been in Angus’ back garden steeling his mothers clothes from the “washmatronodryathonomatic” (annoyingly shortened to “dryer” by Angus’ mother) when a particularly loud bang and flash of purple light had attracted her to the rickety door at the bottom of the sunken leaf covered stair well behind the house.
Cordelia tip toed down the slippy stairs, her ears filled with the sound of her beating heart and her thread bare shoes scraping against the worn steps. The ancient door hung crookedly from its hinges allowing a would be spy the opportunity to peer into the cellar through a gap that increased in width as it plunged towards the floor.
Inside the cellar Angus was reeling from the shock of a sudden and most unexpected explosion as he had been idly playing with the remains of his failed latest machine.
He wasn’t entirely sure what this particular contraption was going to be, earlier in the day he had found a box of old cogs and pulleys in a dark and dusty corner of the cellar, many of the items were broken and bent but some were still usable and very much appealed to Angus. He had started to absentmindedly arrange some of the more interesting pieces and began to wonder if there could be some use in his latest project when he became aware of a strange humming noise that he was sure was emanating from under his feet. The hum was barely audible and as strange as it sounds Angus would swear later that it felt like he was hearing it through his feet not sure weather to describe it as a noise or just intense vibrations. Now, Angus was certain that there was nothing below him that could cause such a noise but before he could consider it any further a large pulsating purple flash coupled with an ear splitting skull cracking bang came from his work bench, where there had been the beginnings of a potentially exciting new project there now lay the smouldering twisted remains of a few rather less shiny cogs and rather more twisted pulleys. The whole cellar was filled with an acrid chocking smoke that burned his throat and stung his eyes making it all but impossible to see as tears streaked down his blackened cheeks.
The explosion itself dumbfounded Angus and he could offer no explanation as to why his normally quiet and sedate workshop should be rocked by such a catastrophic event but what truly puzzled Angus was what he had seen happened moments before his apparatus had self destructed. He couldn’t begin to bring himself to admit what he had witnessed and tried in desperation to explain what his eyes could not possibly have seen but he could not deny that moments before the explosion his new machine had ever so briefly but undoubtedly started moving all by itself.

Dear Gary,
Yes, carry on! Definitely.
There are a few typos and some of the sentences I found a bit too long, BUT it shows vivid imagination, potentially great characters and you have set the scene for some interesting events to unfold..... Please post more!
Recovering Chocoholic

Hi there, Ooo this is interesting Gary - what is going to happen here then? As you mentioned above there are typos but these can be tightened up. I noticed the word weather instead of whether, things like that. Also you repeated 'Angus was of average height' in the second para, his description could maybe be squashed in to one para. I did like the paragraph to your reader half way down, is this going to be kept in ;) You have some lovely phrases here: Cordelia tip toed down the slippy stairs, her ears filled with the sound of her beating heart and her thread bare shoes scraping against the worn steps. The ancient door hung crookedly from its hinges allowing a would be spy the opportunity to peer into the cellar through a gap that increased in width as it plunged towards the floor. I agree with AC above, your characters are intriguing. Keep going with it man Gels :)

Why is my post squashed up!? sorry :)

Thanks for the encouraging words, I think I will have to do a little editing before I carry on too much further as it may become a little tricky. I have about 7000 to 8000 words of it.
I was going to keep the paragraphs to readers in all the way through and then perhaps link the narrator to the story.

Here is the second chapter for those interested. Again unedited, full of mistakes and typos I'm sure!

Chapter 2 Dreams
The scene that greeted Cordelia as she peered through the gap in the old door at the foot of the stairs was one of a mixture of comical pantomime type confusion and partial devastation. A boy of similar age to her was sat on the floor with a largely blackened face and somewhat scorched clothing, there appeared to be the remains of a machine of some description scattered liberally across the cellar space and the air was filled with the smell of smoke. Cordelia couldn’t couldn’t quite put her finger on why or what it was but she was also very aware that the air around her felt like it had pins and needles, the soft hairs on her arms stood to attention and a shiver ran down her spine. The boy inside the cellar room had a look of puzzlement on his plain but pleasant face and he seemed to be staring at a big wooden bench that held the most remains of what ever had just exploded.
Cordelia remained behind the door, breathing silently and watching, she lost track of time and only hunger and coldness stirred her from her observations. The boy had not done very much but pick up small broken objects and stare at them with a look of wonderment in his eyes. She watched him as he put pieces together and prodded them as if expecting them to some how move on their own at his silent command, needless to say no such magic happened, indeed it was well known that no magic had been seen or felt in Arras for many generations and the last remaining legends were told in whispers to young children as bed time stories.
All of Cordelia’s senses told her to leave, she had managed to steal what she had come for, clean clothes, some shoes that just about fit her calloused feet and she new that the kitchen door at the inn would be unguarded later on as the occupants became more interested in the fine ales for which Danje was famous. Cordelia could not leave, she was transfixed and routed to the spot, she could not explain the attraction to boy nor her inability to move away but she just new deep down there was more to the strange young man behind the crooked door than met the eye.
A voice shouting once again stirred Cordelia from her silent observation, a trap door opening had cast a ray of light into the cellar beyond and a voice was yelling that Angus should stop causing so much racket and go up to sleep. Instinctively Cordelia moved stealthily away from the door and backed slowly up the stone stairs carefully avoiding falling and making a noise, she slipped into the bushes by the side of the house and out of the other side onto the narrow lane that led away from the house and the town. Turning her collar up and tightening her ragged coat against the cold Cordelia turned her back on the town and set of walking towards the inn she had seen on the outskirts by the river. A quick trip into the store house and unguarded kitchens would provide a much needed meal and if all was quiet Cordelia thought confidently to herself that she might find a quiet dry corner of the stables to bed down for the night and with that comforting thought in mind she turned her back on Angus and what she had just seen and let the events of the evening pass from her mind.

Angus lay in bed unable to sleep, he tossed and turned but every time he closed his eyes his thoughts returned to the cellar and to what he had seen. At the time he hadn’t noticed but now he felt sure that he had been able to feel the air around him, he struggled to find the words to describe the sensation but it felt like the air was gently pricking his skin with thousands of tiny needles, it hadn’t hurt but it made the hairs on his arms and neck stand up and then, bang, of course the explosion still bothered him but the unexplained movement of his machine along with the feeling in the air troubled him deeply. Angus climbed out of bed and wondered over to his slightly open window, as long as he could remember he had slept with his window open, enjoying the feeling of the cool air dancing over his face as he lay warm and comfortable wrapped in his blankets. Tonight the cool breeze brought no comfort as Angus propped himself on his window sill and stared sightlessly into the night sky. He sat quietly listening to mechanical clicking as the gears and springs of his home made “Timeotron” counted by the minutes and hours of darkness. The device for counting time between sunsets had taken him many weeks to perfect but nobody had been interested as it was so big, the machine could only be installed into peoples living quarters and as they pointed out they had no need to count time at home, when it was dark it was time to sleep. As Angus pondered the possibility of making a smaller more portable “Timeotron”his breathing became more relaxed and his head began to sink onto his chest, his grip on his blanket lessened and Angus slowly fell asleep.
After a lightening raid on the store rooms of the Fat Duck Cordelia had found herself with a sack full of bread, cheese and apples and two stone jars of ale. She had skirted around the court yard of the inn and had smelt the musty odour of the stables before she had seen the entrance. Sneaking into the hay filled interior Cordelia had startled a sleeping grey mare and very quickly quietened the surprised horse’s neighings with the timely presentation of a stolen apple. Cordelia left the mare with a small pile of apples to occupy it as she climbed into the hay loft and found a dry corner to settle in for the night. After a feast of bread and cheese Cordelia opened one of the containers of ale, upended it to her lips and took a long slow gulp of the bitter tasting liquid. After several more minutes and mouth fulls Cordelia could feel the effects of the ale slowly relaxing her tired body and making her eyes heavy, she lay down in the hay and listened to the gentle noises of the grey mare as it happily ate its midnight feast of fruit and Cordelia’s eyes closed and gently entered the world of dreams.

It is worth mentioning at this point my dear intrepid reader that there are many many things that we shall never fully understand and indeed should never try too. Many things are much better surrounded in their mysteries and it wouldn’t do for us all to go around unravelling all the magical things in life. Dreams are one of those many magical gifts that we are all blessed with, ahhhh I hear you cry, not all dreams are gifts indeed some shake our very souls and tremble our very being, and you would be right, but we need to learn which dreams to forget and not dwell on and which dreams to remember because, as you are about to find out, magic can come to you in your sleep..........


The long grass soaked with dew tickled Cordelia’s ankles and knees, she walked carefully in her bare feet and felt her way through the overgrown vegetation in the dark with only the dim glow of the stars to guide her. After a short while Cordelia became aware that she wasn’t alone and just behind her right shoulder she could here the gentle but firm footfall of a large heavy creature, the breathing told her that it was the dappled grey mare from the stable at the Fat Duck Inn. Cordelia stopped and slowly turned to face the following horse, the horse dropped her head, nuzzled Cordelia’s shoulder and quietly whispered in her ear “keep walking child, forward to the woods”. Cordelia recoiled in shock, stumbled backwards and landed squarely on her bottom in the soaking long grass, she backed away from the horse. who simply looked on calmly and enquiringly. Cordelia was about to rise from the ground and run when the horse gently gripped the corner of her jacket in its teeth and promptly picked her clean off the ground and set her back gently on her feet. “Now about all this panickin’ and fuss little mistress”, said the horse “I mean you no harm and I’m ‘ere as a friend”. “i enjoyed my mighty fine pile of apples and thought you might be needin’ a guide is all”. Cordelia’s shock had not abated and she stood staring at the horse open mouthed and transfixed. Cordelia started to mouth the words “but but but but......” when the horse butted in and simply said “ but I’m an ‘orse, yes my dear I am and everythin’ is tellin’ you that ‘orses can’t be talkin” the horse paused for what seemed like dramatic effect to Cordelia, but refusing to believe that horses could even talk let alone pause to increase the drama of the following statement, Cordelia dismissed it as impossible. “Well” the horse continued undeterred, “under normal circumstances you’d be right little miss, but these aint not normal circumstances shall we say” after a further undeniably dramatic pause the horse whispered in a manner fitting of the finest theatrical performance, “you be dreamin”!
Cordelia stood still, she could feel the cold soft ground beneath her feet and feel the wet grass between her toes. There was a gentle breeze blowing a small strand of her hair in her eyes and before her was a talking horse, it all felt too real to be a dream. Mustering her courage Cordelia thought slowly and carefully and finally asked the horse her name “the name i was given by my ‘uman masters is Dorothy but my old mother always called me Bramble, so Bramble is what I use” “Now little mistress we better be moving on”.
Bramble turned and walked in the direction of a small group of trees that could be seen in the moonlight and for the first time Cordelia noticed a group of ugly long scars across Bramble’s back, Cordelia started to ask “what happened to your.....” but Bramble simply replied “enough questions now little mistress, lets be trottin’ on” Cordelia fell in behind Bramble silently and felt her fear begin to fade.

Angus was not shocked to find himself stood in wet grass surrounded on all sides by tall trees, he felt the ground beneath him soft between his toes and could clearly see the stars high above the trees, small wisps of cloud momentarily hiding the patterns from his eyes.
Angus turned on the spot and peered into the trees trying to penetrate the darkness of the forest but could see little more than the outlines of countless gnarled old trees. Angus new this place for what it was, a place he often dreamed about and a place of calm and solace his mind often wandered to while he slept. Some times he would walk through the trees and try to reach out from the forest but other times he just sat in the clearing and looked up at the stars. Angus new that he never stayed long in the dream forest but he new that he always felt calm when he woke. The dream always ended with him walking towards a familiar break in the trees, a break that would lead you to believe that there was a small clearing or dell beyond. Angus found himself walking towards the clearing and he new deep down that when he broke through the line of trees he would wake up. Angus’s jacket snagged on a low branch and some low thorn bushes scraped harshly over the skin on his shins, breaking the skin and causing a small trickle of blood to run towards his foot. His head broke through the line of trees and into a large clearing that was more brightly lit, the clouds had cleared to reveal a half moon suspended in the sky.
In the light of the moon Angus saw the outline of a dark figure that moved slowly but calmly through the long grass. The face of the mysterious figure was shielded by the night but Angus could just make out the silhouette of strands of long hair being caught in the night breeze. Angus paused momentarily unsure what to do when quite suddenly over his shoulder the words “where be you sneekin too young master”? broke the still nights silence. Angus jumped and let out an involuntary yelp at which the silhouette in front of him turned sharply to face him, Angus caught a glimpse of a girls face in the moonlight as a shrill scream broke the nights silence.

I... umm... this is probably really terrible, but I just read your intro thing, which explains how fantastic your story claims it is and stopped.

Hi GARY - certainly worth persevering - the description is a moody, emotional fantasy - and although not my genre - it held my interest right to the end.

Most unlike BF not to read - although I tend to agree with the sentiment. The smythe bit is superfluous - because your characters are strong enough to hold their own - and the story is strange enough as it is -without some idiot telling us...

The biggy you have to contend with right now before you get too far down the road is to be very clear on your characters' POV. Including the narrator. Who is doing the talking/thinking? Too many switches in one chapter can be confusing. There must be clear breaks to define that. Also it would have been better clarity if the person shouting down actually said 'Angus , you're blah blah' - so Cordelia could hear his name.

OK - another issue. The first sentence, first paragraph, first chapter should hit the reader hard. Put your self in a bookshop. You are browsing through looking for a read. Time and money are limited. What do you look for? A hook that makes you want to read on. Your first paragraph comes across as being too slow. Get an action point in right away. Look at your ending to both chapters - great hooks there.

You could even be drastic and cut the first para altogether. It's background, can be introduced later in the story, if at all. Start right in on Angus with a punchy first sentence e.g. You wouldn't have thought Angus was different. Not by looking at him. He was average blah blah.

hope that helps - good luck with the rest.
stephen

Fantastic advice, Thank you Stephen. I am blown away that people are prepared to spend their time so readily and then really put a lot of effort and thought into their advice and ideas. I am very glad Ifound this community and hope that I can contribute as well as every one else seems to! Thanks again
Gary

I meant as well as most people contribute.
Gary

Hi Gary. I started reading your work with the intention of slipping off after a few sentences to do a few things around the house - but you had me 'til the end, and then again to the end of the second instalment. For someone who hasn't ever written before, I must say I'm mightily impressed AND very happy that you've decided to give this a shot. You have an abundance of imagination, a natural ability to structure your thoughts together in a way which holds the reader. There is no doubt that you should perservere with this and I'll be looking out for more. In terms of criticism, well, there's nothing I can add that noone else has said already. You take critique remarkably well for a first-time writer: keep this trait. It's essential. Take on board those things that ring true with you, and listen to your intuition. There are some basic editing issues there, such as rather longwinded sentences, some over-description etc but you'll be happy to know that these are things most writers struggle with. I genuinely think that tightening things up a little (which is something you learn with experience) will ultimately result in a fantastic, engaging piece of writing. Keep going!

Hi Gary, I've had a couple of read-throughs. i do like your story and would like to read more when you've posted it. like the others i spotted a few typos. there is more telling than showing, but nothing you can't work on. i tend to slip into that myself and my tutor slaps my hand for it - i'm not going to do that to you haha. you have a very good imagination. good luck on your rewrite, i look forward to reading it.

Thanks Bradwyn. I have had an offer for help with editing as I wouldnt know where to start. Going to concentrate on that stage for a while before it all becomes a bit big to edit in one go.
Thanks for your kind words
Gary

Hi Gary,

Congratulations on taking the plunge into writing.

Considering this was your first ever piece of writing I think it is a really great effort.

On the positive side, I think you create a great sense of fun, which I think is quite a rare talent. In fact, I thought the opening was reminiscent of a disney film voice-over, or something akin to Lemony Snicket. There is an arrogant, pompous element to it, which won't appeal to everyone of course, but I loved it.

I thought your choice of words and phrases was mostly excellent. I loved the names of your characters. And there was a good dash of humour in there.

(If you don't want to read the negatives then look away now)
In terms of where it could be improved I thought there were a few things. When you introduced it by admitting their had been no editing I did groan a bit. It is always much more enjoyable to read through something where someone has taken the trouble to check spellings etc and lay it out neatly. Having said that, I didn't really notice many spellings, so you got away with it.

I'd agree with ST that the first sentence could be sharper. I'd also add to that, by suggesting that you consider starting with a snippet of action, perhaps even the explosion. You can then tell us about the characters more gradually, whilst keeping us enthralled with some action. As it is, you start by presenting us with each character's CV and then eventually slide into the action. Although your use of language is very engaging, I would consider interspersing some action earlier on.

Just a few thoughts there. In terms of dealing with people's comments I always hark back to old Rudyard's poem "if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you but make allowance for their doubting too." Of course, not all men doubt you, Gary, but hopefully you get what I mean.

Good luck with the writing.

Ron Blanco, Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I really appreciate the suggestions you have made and in re reading the story I agree with you entirely. It needs a little punch at the start to get it moving. Starting with the explosion is a grand idea. I shall re visit and re hash!
I love getting feedback from people, especially folk with a lot more experience than I have, I am happy to take criticism and suggestions all day long. I just don't don't like empty negative feedback. Yours was of the highest order and I thank you again for your time and sound advice.
Gary

It's not the writing - it's the rewriting. Struck me straightaway as a Lemony Snicket type affair (although surely a lift inventor should be called Otis) and I'd suggest on your brutal edits "what do we need to know" rather than all the aside details you want to tell us as this dilutes the character(S) focus.
Cut the prologue and start straight into the action.
Your story doesn't have to be linear - flashbacks// flash forwards are allowed. Make every word count.