Priestess Empowered

[Gwaimir Windgem]

Is the tenative title of another work, the first in a trilogy. We had another writer's meeting recently; I was going to rewrite some more of Apostasy to take, but it became evident that the rewriting was going to take a lot of working out, mainly in the symbolism of rites. So I threw together the prologue of another work. This is only a barely second draft, so it ain't gonna be great. If you read this, I would appreciate it if you would take the time to answer the questions that follow, if no other Constructive Crit.

[Gwaimir Windgem]

Finally, the tiny child had slipped out of the reach of her mother’s quick hands. She heard her name called, but paying no heed, ran to her beloved clearing. The mother smiled. The hungry child would be back long before suppertime, and so she let her go, continuing her tending of the little garden she loved.
The girl-child fled giggling from the dull and drab little village where she slept and ate. Scampering up the wooded hills, she made straight for the meadow in the forest. Finding the tiny trickle of water that ran through, she followed it upwards and onwards. The sun would set early that eve, and the deep blue skies already began to fade into a twilight grey. Ever upward and onward she traced the bubbling brook through the shrouded woods.
Laughing in tune to her beloved stream, she burst out of the trees into her enchanted clearing. Here, the birds flew, chirped, and sang in a joyous chorus of nature in harmony with the happy little brook. The bees purred, floating in a harmless laziness from blossom to flourishing bloom. A single butterfly, splayed with vibrant greens and blues, rested calmly on a blade of grass, softly fluttering its exquisite wings. If there were such a thing as Paradise, this most surely was it, though the simple child’s mind saw it only as sheer delight.
The girl’s rapture found escaped in the form of cries of laughter and the giggles of ecstatic innocence. She ran after the butterfly, laughing as the colorful creature playfully eluded her. She stood below the birds, attempting to imitate the simple beauty of their songs. She played and romped and ran through the meadow in the woods, time seeming to stand still at her utter joy.
Suddenly, the golden rays of the low sun were transfigured into the richest shades of orange as it touched the western horizon traced with the faintest hint of delicate pinks and violet. The luminous rainbow of colors shone through the dim of the trees, playing upon the flowers, glittering off the wings of the bees, imbuing the brook with the radiant hues. The girl’s laughter and play stopped immediately, as she stood on the eastern edge of the clearing, watching the near-miracle play out before her, in a scene of beauty before unseen by her young eyes. She watched the lights playing in a quiet awe, a sense of wonderment of which the frolicsome child of a moment ago would never have seemed capable. From the brook, to the butterfly, to the flowers, and finally to the setting sun her green eyes drifted. In tiny reverence she stood, her young legs unaware of the long hours she’d spent. As the last ray of the sun disappeared over the far-off hills, her peaceful reverie remained untouched, as she stood bespelled, the simple innocence of her mind resting on the beauty she had beheld, surpassing any words listed in her untried vocabulary, a wonder which cannot be done justice by any the word-hoards of any but the most learned.
While her mind remained in this state of peaceful rest, a great shadow descended from the tree above, suspending silently in front of her. Her awe broken by this strange new thing, she took a step closer, trying to make out the shape. Another, and from the shadow emerged a great, black spider the size of her hand, its underbelly splotched by a sickly green. The ugly creature stretched its front legs out towards her, a silent menace weaving in an eerie dance.
A terrified cry flew from her lips as she hurled herself back from the repulsive thing. Strong waiting arms snatched her, and a long hand clapped harshly over her mouth. Her eyes cast about wildly, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure that clutched her, but to no avail.
Another figure joined the first, and another, all enshrouded in the shadows of dusk. In harsh voices and with spidery words, they muttered amongst each other. Thin yet strong fingers lithely tied grey and abrasive ropes around her hands, her arms, and her little body. The tallest of the figures knelt in front of her, leaning close enough for her to see the ashen grey face, the black eyes, devoid of pupils, the grim yet beautiful features, the cruel, grey lips. He opened his mouth, and began to slowly utter words of the same spidery tongue. He lifted a hand, and covered her eyes with a surprisingly light touch. Her terror began to subside, as sudden unnatural weariness overwhelmed her slowly, until the slivers of night sky she saw through his fingers disappeared, and her tense body relaxed in a swoon.

[Gwaimir Windgem]

[list=1][*]What did you think of the descriptive wording? Did it flow well? Was it stilted?[*]Did you think the mood of an innocent child at play was captured? What impression did you get from it? [*]Did the sunset instill a sense of drama, a tiny bit of connection with the awe of the child?[*]Did the appearance of the spider and the grey, shadowy figures "work"? Was the terror of a child confronted with an unknown yet recognisable menace captured?[*]Were there parts that bored you? Did you feel that it dragged in places?[*]Which elements did you like the most?[*]Of course, did you notice any spelling or grammatical errors? Any writing errors?[*]What changes would you suggest for this?[*]Were there any parts you didn't understand, or that didn't make sense to you?[*]If you were to edit this piece, what changes would you make?[/list=1]

[Lief Erikson]

Originally posted by Gwaimir Windgem
[list=1][*]What did you think of the descriptive wording? Did it flow well? Was it stilted?

Not much. No, I wouldn't really call it stilted. I did feel some difficulty with the sudden transition between the child's appreciation of the glories of mother nature, and the spider attack. That seemed a harsh and sudden change of subjects, or transition. Things happening suddenly isn't always bad, but most of the selection was spent focusing on the child's appreciation of nature. That all seems somewhat irrelevant, or different when classic fantasy behavior comes into play.

By calling it classic, I don't mean common or boring. Action like that always happens in fantasy- in my book too. But the first part was very, very different.

[*]Did you think the mood of an innocent child at play was captured? What impression did you get from it?

I got the impression that she was definitely far more in touch with the awesome beauty of creation than normal man is. She is able to see something that is hidden from most people, or that they have blinded themselves to.

I read an account of a professor and a student, and the student spoke about how awesome it is how a caterpillar transforms into a butterfly. The professor described what happened in scientific terms, saying, "well, it's just this happening," basically. The student knew that information too, but he saw a side that the professor tragically missed.

That's pretty much what the child's connection with nature seems like, to me.

[*]Did the sunset instill a sense of drama, a tiny bit of connection with the awe of the child?

The sunset was fine by me.

[*]Did the appearance of the spider and the grey, shadowy figures "work"? Was the terror of a child confronted with an unknown yet recognisable menace captured?

Mmm, I think it might actually not have worked vey well. Their sudden attack just seemed out of place with the rest of the selection. A change in type and purpose of the writing that took me by surprise.

[*]Were there parts that bored you? Did you feel that it dragged in places?

Just a little bit, during the child's raptures. Perhaps saying that she was giggling or laughing got a little bit repetative. But overall, it's hard for me to see precisely what- if anything- gets boring in that selection. Not much of it though, the first part was pretty much all right.

[*]Which elements did you like the most?

[*]Of course, did you notice any spelling or grammatical errors? Any writing errors?[/B][/QUOTE]
Uh . . . sorry, I wasn't looking .

[*]What changes would you suggest for this?

Separate the two incidents a bit. Explain in one selection what the child's connection with nature is, and then in another have her get captured.

[*]Were there any parts you didn't understand, or that didn't make sense to you?

Not too much. I do hope this is only a selection from a story though, rather than a complete story in itself. Otherwise there are a lot of things unexplained, at the end. What type of a world it is, what the spider creatures are and what they're like. There's a lot like that. Unless the spiders and the attack were pure symbolism.

[*]If you were to edit this piece, what changes would you make?

I actually don't have time to edit this piece, and I'm not too much interested right now. But I did enjoy reading and commenting on it . [/list=1]

[Entlover]

I would give these folks names. Excuse my doing so; just practice. I took the liberty of editing it, since you suggested you might like us to. I mostly took out adverbs and adjectives and eliminated words that in my mind are cliches or speaking down to the reader. I also added a sentence or two to establish a bit of a setting.
Don't get me wrong -- I enjoyed it a lot. It made me want to know what will happen to her. But I think it'd be more enjoyable if it's more concise.

Alissa walked in the garden with her young daughter. But Clara kept tugging at her mother’s hands, looking toward the forest. Her mother knew that she wanted to return to the clearing she loved, but Alissa had to tend her garden. Finally, the tiny child slipped out of reach of her mother’s quick hands. Alissa called her name, but Clara paid no heed, running under the shadows of the trees. The mother smiled. She knew she would go to her beloved clearing, and that hunger would bring her back long before suppertime, so she let her go, continuing her tending of the little garden.
Clara fled giggling from the drab little village where she lived. Running up the wooded hills, she made straight for the meadow in the forest. Finding the trickle of the stream that ran through it, she followed it upwards. The sun would set early that evening, and the deep blue skies were already beginning to fade to a twilight grey. She traced the brook upward through the shrouded woods.
Laughing in tune to the stream, she burst out of the trees into her enchanted clearing. Here, the birds flew and sang in a joyous chorus of nature in harmony with the melody of the brook. The bees hummed, floating in harmless laziness from blossom to bloom. A single butterfly, splayed with vibrant greens and blues, rested on a blade of grass, fluttering its exquisite wings. If there were such a thing as Paradise, this was surely it, though the simple child’s mind saw it only as sheer delight.
The girl’s rapture found escape in laughter and giggles of ecstatic innocence. She ran after the butterfly, laughing as the colorful creature eluded her. She stood below the birds, attempting to imitate the simple beauty of their songs. She played and romped through the meadow, oblivious in her delight to the passage of time.
Suddenly the golden rays of the low sun were transfigured into the richest shades of orange as it touched the western horizon, traced with the faintest hint of delicate pinks and violet. The luminous rainbow of colors shone through the dim boles of the trees, playing upon the flowers, glittering off the wings of the bees, imbuing the brook with radiant hues. The girl’s laughter and play stopped immediately, as she stood watching the near-miracle play out before her, in a scene of beauty she had never seen before. She watched the lights playing in quiet awe and wonderment. From the brook, to the butterfly, to the flowers, and finally to the setting sun her wide eyes drifted. She stood in reverence, unwearied by the long hours she’d spent. As the last ray of the sun disappeared over the far-off hills, she continued to stand enspelled, the simple innocence of her mind resting in the beauty she had seen, surpassing any words in her untried vocabulary.
While her mind remained in this state of peaceful rest, a great shadow descended from the tree above, suspended silently in front of her. Her mood broken by this strange new thing, she took a step closer, trying to make out the shape. Another step,, and then from the shadow emerged a great black spider the size of her hand, its underbelly splotched by a sickly green. The ugly creature stretched its front legs out towards her, a silent menace weaving in an eerie dance.
She cried out in terror, hurling herself back from the repulsive thing. Sinewy arms snatched her, and a long hand clapped over her mouth. Her eyes cast about wildly, trying to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure that clutched her, but she could not catch sight of it.
Another figure joined the first, and another, all hidden by the shadows of dusk. In harsh voices and with spidery words, they muttered amongst each other. Thin yet strong fingers tied abrasive ropes around her hands, her arms, and her little body. The tallest of the figures knelt in front of her, leaning close enough for her to see the ashen grey face, the black pupilless eyes, the grim yet beautiful features, the cruel grey lips. He opened his mouth, and began to slowly utter words in the same spidery tongue. He lifted a hand and covered her eyes with a surprisingly light touch. Her terror began to subside, as sudden weariness overwhelmed her, until the slivers of night sky she saw through his fingers disappeared, and she relaxed in a swoon

[Gwaimir Windgem]

Thanks, you two.
I appreciate you taking time to do this.

I got the impression that she was definitely far more in touch with the awesome beauty of creation than normal man is. She is able to see something that is hidden from most people, or that they have blinded themselves to.

I read an account of a professor and a student, and the student spoke about how awesome it is how a caterpillar transforms into a butterfly. The professor described what happened in scientific terms, saying, "well, it's just this happening," basically. The student knew that information too, but he saw a side that the professor tragically missed.

Good story, and rather relevant.

Mmm, I think it might actually not have worked vey well. Their sudden attack just seemed out of place with the rest of the selection. A change in type and purpose of the writing that took me by surprise.

Well, if it took you by surprise, maybe it's not so bad. That was what happened with the girl, and that was what I intended to happen with the reader.

Just a little bit, during the child's raptures. Perhaps saying that she was giggling or laughing got a little bit repetative.

Noted, and thank you.

Separate the two incidents a bit. Explain in one selection what the child's connection with nature is, and then in another have her get captured.

Hmm, the child doesn't really have any special connection. Just meant to portray the innocent ecstacy of a child with the (relatively) fresh and new wonders of nature, which people have a tendency to sadly forget as they grow older.

Not too much. I do hope this is only a selection from a story though, rather than a complete story in itself.

I wouldn't even call it a selection! It's the first scene from the first book of a trilogy.

Otherwise there are a lot of things unexplained, at the end. What type of a world it is, what the spider creatures are and what they're like. There's a lot like that. Unless the spiders and the attack were pure symbolism.

Nope, no symbolism. I don't tend to use very much of that.

I actually don't have time to edit this piece, and I'm not too much interested right now. But I did enjoy reading and commenting on it .
[/B][/QUOTE]

And I appreciated it.

[Gwaimir Windgem]

Originally posted by Entlover
[B]I would give these folks names.

Doesn't really go with the story; the girl's identity and her life here is lost forever, and the kidnappers aren't really anything special, just "grunts" sort of. But the mother, I think, might be a good idea.

Excuse my doing so; just practice. I took the liberty of editing it, since you suggested you might like us to. I mostly took out adverbs and adjectives and eliminated words that in my mind are cliches or speaking down to the reader. I also added a sentence or two to establish a bit of a setting.
Don't get me wrong -- I enjoyed it a lot. It made me want to know what will happen to her. But I think it'd be more enjoyable if it's more concise.

Wow! I don't have time to read it now, but I'll stick it somewhere that I can get to it, and get back to you. Many thanks.

[Lief Erikson]

Originally posted by Gwaimir Windgem
Well, if it took you by surprise, maybe it's not so bad. That was what happened with the girl, and that was what I intended to happen with the reader.

Yes . . . but it makes the rest of what happened, which was the primary focus of the scene, seem somewhat irrelevant. You got the reader looking up a false trail, in terms of paying attention to what was going on when not much was actually going on. If the surprise is just a good plot twist, then yes, that's great to surprise the reader. The surprise doesn't have to be good or pleasant- it can be a horrible surprise for the reader. That doesn't matter, so long as you haven't got them looking hard for something that isn't there, pointlessly. Setting up red herrings is one thing, but this isn't even setting up a red herring, it's just a focus on something really neat and beautiful but which is virtually nothing. Or so it seems to me, anyway .

Originally posted by Gwaimir Windgem
Hmm, the child doesn't really have any special connection. Just meant to portray the innocent ecstacy of a child with the (relatively) fresh and new wonders of nature, which people have a tendency to sadly forget as they grow older.

I don't think even children behave as that child did, revelling in nature in such a way. Certain adults do, being able to meditate for hours on the glories and beauty of God's creation, but I don't tend to imagine children doing that much.

Originally posted by Gwaimir Windgem
I wouldn't even call it a selection! It's the first scene from the first book of a trilogy.

Good . Hang on, first scene? I thought I'd already read the first two chapters of your book. Is this a new series . . . ? (in a suspicious tone of voice )

Originally posted by Gwaimir Windgem
I actually don't have time to edit this piece, and I'm not too much interested right now. But I did enjoy reading and commenting on it .

It was a well written scene .

[Lizra]

Here, I'll give it a Liz spin!

Little Calla heard her mother calling her name, but ran fast, giggling happily, as she ignored the calls. Calla's mother smiled, watching the little girl run to her secret clearing, beyond the woods. Her mind was focused on pulling weeds and perfecting her flower garden.
Calla ran first to the flower meadow with the little stream. She felt light hearted and full of nature's joy as she began to follow the pretty, sparkling water. The water whispered and gurgled to her, urging her on. The sky was beginning to turn rosy-gray with twilight as Calla followed the babbling brook, through more woods, to the clearing.

I've got to go....you've got a baseline of what you want to happen, now ruthlessly eliminate unecessary words, sentences, and descriptions. I find less is more (as usual, but when there are too many words, I start skimming, soon to stop reading all together! ) Try to get the story to flow like the water. Whatever...everyone has a different style!

Added....everytime I read this, I make it shorter! Soon I'll get it down to "The happy little girl ran in the woods."

[Gwaimir Windgem]

Originally posted by Lief Erikson
Yes . . . but it makes the rest of what happened, which was the primary focus of the scene, seem somewhat irrelevant. You got the reader looking up a false trail, in terms of paying attention to what was going on when not much was actually going on. If the surprise is just a good plot twist, then yes, that's great to surprise the reader. The surprise doesn't have to be good or pleasant- it can be a horrible surprise for the reader. That doesn't matter, so long as you haven't got them looking hard for something that isn't there, pointlessly. Setting up red herrings is one thing, but this isn't even setting up a red herring, it's just a focus on something really neat and beautiful but which is virtually nothing. Or so it seems to me, anyway


I don't think even children behave as that child did, revelling in nature in such a way. Certain adults do, being able to meditate for hours on the glories and beauty of God's creation, but I don't tend to imagine children doing that much.

Good . Hang on, first scene? I thought I'd already read the first two chapters of your book. Is this a new series . . . ? (in a suspicious tone of voice )


It was a well written scene .

[Lief Erikson]

Thanks for the response, Gwaimir .