This is an easy fix, but even prologues have to be written in more active voice not passive. If you want readers to read ch2, ch1 has to engage them. Same for the prologue if you want them to read ch1.
Sci Fi & Fantasy / Horseman, Chapter 1
Story creates belief. When I was young I did not understand this. In the great house where I grew up, storytelling was the art of the poor. I heard tales of the wood-daughters from our nurses and maids, of the singing shells from the reedmen (listened to guiltily while my father was out of earshot), of the men who journeyed up Inib stream into the forest of the sibyls and did not return. Of course I also heard stories from my tutors, but these were true: of the old capital, ruined, lying in the hostile lands of the princes; of the lost brother who founded Orrenea; of the Singer who no longer sings—and of his Harp, which is in the sky.
Those stories I did not so much believe as live in. I suppose there is no good dividing line between the two when we are little. Necessity sets in very quickly, however, and then whatever is in front of us takes priority. Still, there are the stories that we carry with us over the divide. And none of the stories I heard were more fabulous than those of the centaurs. Yet none were more true, as I learned one day when I was six years old, the day I actually met my first centaur! It happened by chance as K’Aruna, my nurse, was taking me down Cubeb Zar on our way to the Safarbin. Yes, I remember it that clearly. One moment we were walking along in a fine spring morning, willow trees in new leaf leaning over the canal, and the next he had emerged from a side alley. I stood transfixed, K’Aruna unable to budge me with her rough pulls at my sleeve. The centaur had come to a halt, returning my gaze, bemusement in his green eyes. He was light haired, powerfully muscled, large framed—a northerner. He had a horn bow and quiver slung over one shoulder, and he idly caressed the strap with a thumb as he examined me. Something inexpressible about him—not his outrageous blend, where human met horse, not his half-animal expression—marked him as belonging to another world, though his physical presence was overwhelming. Without warning he spoke: “Sun’s high for you, tiger!” and laughing slipped quickly past us.
In that moment I first believed.
But that was a single moment. The rest of my childhood was spent in the confined privilege of the Renean guilds. As an only son of an important family, I was permitted to enjoy the pleasures of the city only when I was small: we boys had swimming and sailing and Orrenea itself to divert us after morning lessons. Strength, quickness, and cunning were what we valued, the virtues of the statesman. Between the arcing sky and Orrenea’s shining canals we roughhoused and stuck our heads into every corner and crack while our nurses cried “lelo, lelo!” It was the happiest time of my youth, for I had not yet begun field exercises, and I was good at my studies.
I was thinking of nothing but the present. On my eighth birthday I was summoned into my father’s study and given a brief lecture on my new responsibilities. A rich light poured in from his tall windows, adding to the warmth of the silk and wood furnishings, as I stood waiting for him to look up from his desk and papers. After a little while, he rose to stand facing me in his figured silk jacket and trousers, thin and bald, a slight smile on his face.
“Darsha,” he began (for so I was called in my youth), “it is time for you to know that we are well-pleased with all that you have done so far…”. Against my will I smiled (for I wished to seem ready for the charge that was to be laid on me). …”but you are about to face a new and much sterner test,” he continued. “You have already shown much promise as a scholar and friend to your companions. But these are virtues that are not particularly valued by the Lehoi, your family. To fight for the Truth of the Singer, to advance the fortunes of your noble family—these are the goals toward which you must work.” He paused, looking at me with the steady gaze that meant he was weighing my response. I did not smile this time, anticipating some unknown criticism. “Your sweet mother would be better able than I to guess what fate may be yours, but I see this much: that the burden you are assuming will be even heavier for you than it is for most. I can offer no help, much though I would, for it is plain that the difficulty lies in the very core of your nature. Large though it is, the empire of the merchants is not large enough for you…” and he paused again, looking away out the windows at the canal. When he turned back, I didn’t recognize his expression, then with a shock realized that he was fighting back tears. “We cannot always be responsible for our choices,” he went on, “or see to what end our will works. I fear that some larger purpose is at work in my love for your mother, and in your birth. What the Singer may intend I can’t say, but I will accept and praise, and so I give you my blessing as son and heir. May Aruna’s light shine on you always!”
I stood dumbfounded for a moment until, with a kiss on the forehead, he dismissed me. His expression as I left the study haunts me: dead blank, a mask. Could he have guessed what would happen, even though he was of purest Renean blood and would never have consulted a Poet? See to what end… indeed!
The next morning, I arrived at the Sulal to begin a long training in government and warfare. My torment did not stop during all the years that followed. Success offered no comfort: a brief but astute career as an officer in the navy, the gorgeous women eager to bear my family’s child, Rassa my patient and beautiful wife. The intervention of the Lehoi and the Guardianship. What could the most powerful office in Orrenea—indeed, in all of the Singer’s lands—do to remove the humiliation of the Sulal training? What could it offer me when I was preoccupied with the centaurs, the Poets, and their forbidden stories?
And after my eighth birthday I never say my father again.
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Catastrophe reviewed Version 1 -
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You’re off to an excellent start with this. I like the narrative voice you’ve used to tell the story. You hint at momentous events, and that’s always a good hook for the reader.
I didn’t notice any mechanical errors – the formatting was a little weird, but no real worries on that score. The only thing I would suggest would be to give some sort of hint as to what the different foreign terms/names apply to. What’s a street? A city? A ritual? You may plan on explaining those in the next part, but it is kind of annoying to keep getting pulled out of the narrative flow because you don’t know the references.
Good job with this, and good luck!
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bravis reviewed Version 1 -
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I think there are bits of this that are extremely well written, and I got a sense that you have thoroughly thought out this world since it appeared credible and suitably complex.
In terms of the writing style of the story, I thought it summoned up a mood of austerity, and I could also tell there is a internal battle within the main character in terms of the real world of work and responsibilities, and the world of mystery and fantasy which draws him to it. Having said this, I found the telling of it rather passive. Let me explain…
The character is relating past events to us in the way of someone giving a lecture, and in this way you are telling the story not showing it too us. I hate it when people point this out in my own writing, but it’s one of the rules of good writing!
Obviously your story will be focused on this character when he is an adult and you are just giving us some back story so we can understand him better, but this is a hefty information dump to begin a novel with, and I didn’t really engage with the story as a result. I would much rather learn this backstory gradually as the novel develops.
I think you can still retain the essence and mood of this chapter (which is something you obviously want to retain), whilst also being a little more active in the telling/showing of it. You could begin the chapter with the dialogue between the character and his father and reveal some back story through that. The sighting of the centaur could be a prologue, or a memory recounted at some later point.
In a way a story/novel should be like a school lesson. As a teacher I have been taught that we shouldn’t just lecture the children from the beginning to the end of the lesson, they woud just switch off. Instead we should tell them a little bit and then give them activities to do, and by doing them they can find out more information for themselves. I think it is the same with writing. You can have small chunks where you tell the reader things, but otherwise you should have actions showing us the way.
Right. Lecture over. Class dismissed!
sarafarey reviewed Version 1 -
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As I read this I had some questions to pose to you? For example why is the mother character not developed? The fact she has extra knowledge is alluded to, but we don’t know why. Then the beginning paragraph comes off as not very exciting. There is no action until his encounter with the centaur. Even then I wanted to see more of his awe and astonishment at the creature. Plus why doesn’t the nurse hear the centaur talk to him? Then when you say I stood dumbfounded I wanted to see him dumbfounded not read he was so. I also couldn’t get a clear picture of the landscape we are in. I think more time needs to be spent on describing where we are at and why we are there. This is a decent beginning and with a fair amount of revision will be even better.
redeagle reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a very interesting piece. I find myself very interested in the world that you have created here, but felt like you should have told me more about it up front (where is it?). A few minor things that didn’t work for me: Second paragraph, ‘good dividing line’ and ‘when we are little’... Maybe ‘true’ or ‘real’ dividing line and ‘when we are young’ would work better for me. Third paragraph, ‘Safarbin’... what is it? When you mentioned the ‘Sulal’ in the last paragraph, you give me an idea that it is a military or government training academy of some sort… maybe do the same with Safarbin (I’m guessing that maybe it is the marketplace?). Fourth paragraph, ‘only when I was small’... Here again, I think I prefer the word ‘young’ or ‘when I was a boy’. And a spelling mistake I think, in the last sentence ‘And after my eighth birthday I never say my father again.’ I would definitely have continued reading if there was more. You really did capture my interest and I think that you should continue in the same fashion.
jfmalewitz reviewed Version 1 -
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Great opening. “(listened to guiltily while my father was out of earshot), of the men who journeyed up Inib stream into the forest of the sibyls and did not return.” I would go against the parentheses, but that is the inner editor in me talking. I do not want to stifle the voice there. Basically, if it was me I would not use it; instead I would tell the information in a different way.
“Of course I also heard stories from my tutors, but these were true: of the old capital, ruined, lying in the hostile lands of the princes; of the lost brother who founded Orrenea; of the Singer who no longer sings—and of his Harp, which is in the sky.” This is good, but I would consider dumbing it down for your audience. I was not confused, it actually made me think, but the sentence is huge the broken up with colons, semicolons, and an M dash. We can be creative with our sentence, but all in one sentence is just a bit ambitious.
“The centaur had come to a halt, returning my gaze, bemusement in his green eyes. He was light haired, powerfully muscled, large framed—a northerner.” these sentences need not be separated. The fact that he has green eyes could be added in when you describe his features, the light hair, powerfully muscled… You could say “The Centaur halted, and returned my gaze. There was bemusement in his green eyes, which were as detailed as his light hair and powerfully muscled body. He was a northerner.”
That is not exactly Tolkien but that was just to give you an idea of what I was thinking.
“And after my eighth birthday I never say my father again.” Did you mean said?
I think the beginning is great. I personally believe you can set the audoience up with the world, but none of your scenes are immediate. You tell us backstory, with a few moments of the present.
” I stood dumbfounded for a moment until, with a kiss on the forehead, he dismissed me. His expression as I left the study haunts me: dead blank, a mask. Could he have guessed what would happen, even though he was of purest Renean blood and would never have consulted a Poet? See to what end… indeed!” this was a good scene, but too short. You could make it much longer, and it would not be boring. This pointed to me you could o it, and I wanted to show it.
Hope some of that helped. These are all just my opinions, and I have never published fiction. Thanks for letting me read this!
Nytefist7 reviewed Version 1 -
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It’s pretty good overall. The world you’ve built is rich in detail and history. The narrative is engaging, even though the way you write the manner of speech is a little off-putting for me, it could flow more naturally. I think the big issue for me, is that this seems more like a prologue. This is all background info, and I don’t usually see first chapters written this way. The easy fix is to simply call this your prologue. If the whole novel is written in this style of narration, I might not want to read any more. Which would be a shame because the piece is full of potential.
Typecast reviewed Version 1 -
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In the first paragraph you put in parenthesis that you felt guilt. I’m wondering if you meant that there is pornographic material within the “wood-daughters” stories. You may want to add a brief list of what the stories contained. Example, blah blah balh sneeking out at all hours of the night sinning blah blah blah.
The third paragraph ends with “and I was good at my studies”. That has the feeling of just being thrown in there. It is a seemingly important point. If is isn’t then it should be cut. Expand on your points or hints towards future story developments. Going in-depth on any tid-bit only makes the reader more involved. Just don’t make three paragraphs be about the chemical structure of egg salad. If you know what I mean. Three or four sentences about one single subject will only make the story grow. “Strength, quickness, and cunning were what we valued, the virtues of the statesman.” Was it a previous monarchy that enstilled this? Was it a particular person? What is the story behind this? Each culture is different, so how did the culture within the setting of your story appear? Obese men in France always used to get the ladies, because being fat meant that you ate well which meant that you were wealthy. Tid-bits always get the reader involved.
NoMan reviewed Version 1 -
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That first paragrapgh was astounding. I found myseflf yearning to hear about the Singer and his Harp.
Yor prose is well-formed; your visualistions were crisp, the language clearly full-formed, almost a character itself
I love the reversal; aristos are physical and warlike; plebs are quiet and well-read.
Your world flows effortlessly; it’s clear that a lot of time and love was put into this. It sounds like I’m blowing smoke, but there it is.
My only problems were with the ending. The chapter wrapped up much too quickly, and although you gave us some insight as to how much Darsha’s father loved him, we don’t end up caring about him(the father) enough for the line “After my eighth birthday, I never saw my father again.” to really resonate.
Your prose is healthy and strong—use it. Fill out this chapter more. I’d love to read it again.
Katieh_04 reviewed Version 1 -
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I really enjoyed reading this story. I love fantasy, and it was always a genre that I was very picky about, because people never seem to get it right. I think you did a fantastic job, all the way around. You chose to write about centaurs, which made it an immediantly interesting read, because even in Sci Fi centaurs are generally not a big part of the story. I think this is a nice first chapter.
Sharon reviewed Version 1 -
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I hate to say it but I wasn’t very impressed with this.
It peaked when he experienced the Centaur and then had no choice but to go downhill. Had I picked this book up at a bookstore I would have put it down before the end of the first paragraph. Harsh but true.
It’s very, very descriptive. Almost too descriptive I think. It spends so much time describing the setting and the time that it fails to reveal the story to me.
I’m not sure what the point of the story was. The end was unfullfilling and unclear. And in the last sentence, ”...I never say my father again.” I think that’s supposed to say “saw”.
Your writing style may not be my cup of tea, but I do see how others would appreciate it. You do have a way with words. Good luck with future writings. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more supportive of this one…
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