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  1. #1
    zhi wong

    comments needed..

    I'm not a professional writer with excessive experience, infact i'm just your average high school student. Right now i'm plucking all my courage(nervously)to get some professional opinions. So far only friends & family have seen my work, I not sure whether or not there're holding back on the truth, but I'm willing to broaden my mind.* Fingers crossed.*

    P.S: I didn't jot down the whole chapter cause it's too long for light reading.

    TiTle:Which Is The Real Fraulien Feliya,

    Chapter 1:

    On this crisp autumn night of tranquility where creatures of the day nestle down to swathe in their warm cocoons of silk & twigs while the nocturnal ones spread out their wings & venture out into the vast gist of a fluorescent lit evening, a bike rider dressed in sleek black leather speeds through the winding path up the isolated mountain. The word that could clearly describe the rider is mystery, a mysterious spectacle.
    In this dark night of serene ambience, where the verdure pastures aren’t discernible, the silent moon lends a helping hand by shedding a dim ray of light on the passing path of the daring motorist who by now takes a pausing moment while surveying the breath taking panorama that surrounds throughout the nearing valley, bearing in mind the exquisite vista that never cease to amaze.
    At that split moment, the bike rider removes the shielding helmet that once stayed in place on its master’s head, which by now is placed on the handle bar of the red Harley. Surprising as it is, the mysterious bike rider who wangles this ferocious vehicle turns out to be a brown-headed lady, a lady of beauty. Her long hair carried on the breeze as each zephyr plants gentle kisses on her soft flowing hair. Her hair at waist length with slight curls at the nearing tips, her svelte figure accentuating her sophisticated style yet elegantly poised at the same time.
    Her mind drifting far & wide into her own thoughts with only the serenade tune of humming wind for company. The calmness soon brakes off as her phone starts to ring a musical box tune that intro’s an incoming call. She rummages around her pocket to get hold of her cell. A hint of a sweet smile touches her lips as she sees the name of caller on her blinking screen who’s so dear to her. It was her dearest father, but what made him call ticks her inquisitive mind.
    The moment she accepts the call, a man’s voice could be heard. It was a gentle yet having a tinge of firmness to it that warns he means business. He starts with an Italian accent. “ Feliya, where on earth are you? Have you any idea we’re worried sick here at home!! You should know a girl your age shouldn’t be out scampering the streets at this time of night! You were suppose to call home an hour ago.” The more he spoke the more his voice boomed loudly over the receiver.
    Feliya helplessly smiled over the other line & gently lays the facts out in the open. “ Hello papa. I’m sorry for not calling home. I’m all right. You do remember I’m no longer a kid right?” Feliya spoke those words with a mild Italian accent. She pauses for a sec then continues “ Papa, the night’s still young, no one in Italy sleeps this early at night.” She clarifies.
    “ Huh, who says…. your old man here sleeps at this given hour.” Mr. Francisco huffs at his comment.
    “ Are you sure? I still remember you stay up till the wee hours before you actually flop onto your bed.” Feliya mischievously pointed out.
    Cornered by that comment, he added in “ That was ages ago. Do not forget you are no longer staying in this house. There are changes that occurred during your absence from home. This is just one of those conversions that took place.” After he ended his sentence, he lets out a deep sigh, which unintentionally could faintly be heard from Feliya’s side that sank her heart to the depths of her core. Before he carries on again, he verbally hesitated a little that didn’t sound appealing to Feliya. She knows what could be expected from her hesitant father. “ Liya…. I think it’s best if you move back home.”
    Just as she’d expected, the same old words that never seems too old for her father to utilize on her. “ Papa, I’ve said it once & I’ll say it again. We are not going to have this conversation again every time you ring me up.” Feliya states. “ I’m sorry, but that’s the fruition of this subject.” She sturdily noted. She felt a tainted feel of guilt surging up in her at once.
    Mr. Francisco lets out a defeated sigh upon hearing Feliya’s avowal. “ Yes, yes, I know.” He answers remorsefully.
    Three years ago when Feliya just turn 20, she made an announcement saying she’ll be moving out the next week. This announcement was an utter amazement for both of her parents who didn’t know how to react to such an audacity. Still in their sheer astonishment, Feliya added that she’d found an apartment & had paid for all the necessities that were required. Hard to believe at first, Mr. Francisco wouldn’t let Feliya do as she pleases & protested at the facts of his little girl who’s growing up. He’d even quoted that those whatsoever losses she may occur, he’ll see to it personally. After all it’s only money.
    Born from a background of headstrong Italian generations, Feliya would not take it lightly & be defeated in her stride even with her father’s constant negative responses. Sure enough, her father finally gave in to her little tactics that she’d woven in his sound mind. Day by day Mrs. Francisco, her mother, watches on captivatingly at the intense squabbles between both father & daughter whom she loves so dearly, both wanting to surface victorious in the battle of to go or not to go. Alas, her husband lost to his daughter’s slyness, which brought upon the caving in of many, a sleepless night for weeks. Due to the lacking of forty winks, poor Mrs. Francisco had to endure her grouchy husband who seemed like a cat whose tail was severely trampled onto. For weeks on end he would silently stay out on the porch during most evenings, reminiscing those old days from way back when his Feliya would cling onto him as if he was her world, her sky that’ll shield her from harm. Yet now she stands firmly on her own two feet with no plight or whatsoever that can restrain her from any ideal propositions she may have in mind. Yes indeed, his little girl has grown up into a sensible person with opinions of her own that no one can pry out of her nor will she quiver at spoken threats that sets in her path. He taught her well, well enough to let her soar away from his dwelling. He misses his clinging child who once looked at him with revere eyes of innocence.
    There were many times Feliya wanted to give in to her ageing father, but her ambitious sanity came looming in, flooding her feeble perspective, leaving her with unspoken words of admission of guilt. “ Papa, do not be like this.” She helplessly pleaded. “I promise I’ll come home during the weekends. Yes?”
    “Do whatever pleases you, as long as you return home.Next time don't forget to call.” Mr. Francisco replies with that, as he doesn’t wish to prolong this upsetting conversation any longer.
    “Thank you, papa.” Those were the words Feliya could make out from her douse mouth that was gagged by the slight sign of her hindering wail. She gratefully accepted such grace.
    “Take care, I’m hanging up now, Liya.” He says with a heatrending tone.
    “Bye papa.”
    The solitude equanimity of silence was poised by the petite dainty sniffles from Feliya. How fast 3 years had past, now she’s a maiden of age 24. A gale came passing by, mellowing her into self-assured lass. She takes a look at her wristwatch then hops on board her vehicle. She then wears her helmet whilst tucking her brown locks neatly out of sight into the spacious helmet, hiding her true distinctiveness as a female pretty face. After latching her helmet, she trails the route back down the winding path she'd previously took, fearlessly speeding through. As she’s nearing the city lights, she sensibly slows down her fiery motorbike to avoid any future mishap.

  2. #2
    Sam English

    Re: comments needed..

    This is brilliant.

  3. #3
    Keith .

    Re: comments needed..

    My opinion.

    Zhi, I'm assuming English is a second language for you. You need to read read read to get a feel for conversational English and you should do so before even attempting to write a book.

    This reads like a school assignment where the teacher has you cram as many adjectives and adverbs into each sentence as possible. My daughter showed me one when in 6th grade and I cringed.

    Less is more. Much more. If you must use an adjective, use only one. Limit adverbs to one per page, max. Finally, stop trying to impress your reader and start hooking him. Your writing gets in the way of telling the story.

    Get some writing books. Stephen King's is excellent. I prefer Stein. Noah Lukeman is a literary agent who wrote THE FIRST FIVE PAGES. It shows what he looks for to exclude a submission within the, well, first 5 pages. It will help, too.

    Your writing sample is really bad for many reasons. You're young and again, I assume English is a 2nd language, so most people here will give you a pass and offer help. An agent or editor will expect a professional submission and will not be so kind. Read some novels for English usage and read the writing books.

    Some people get mad when I suggest they educate themselves rather than offer a re-write, but it's the whole, teach a man to fish and he will feed himself, thing. You're young and have plenty of time to perfect your craft. Use your time wisely. Again, just one guy's opinion. Luck.

  4. #4
    Matt Austin

    Re: comments needed..

    I agree with Keith.

    You have the tools, but overdo it.

    This reminds me of a kid that empties the entire toy box just to play with one toy. Everyone else ends up stepping on the other junk and suffers for it....

    "On this crisp autumn night of tranquility where creatures of the day nestle down to swathe in their warm cocoons of silk & twigs while the nocturnal ones spread out their wings & venture out into the vast gist of a fluorescent lit evening, a bike rider dressed in sleek black leather speeds through the winding path up the isolated mountain."

    WAY too long!

    Look at each sentence and try something like I've done below.

    "On a cool, still autumn night a bike rider clad in black leather speeds along the isolated mountain path."

    59 words vs. 19... That's 40 words easily cut out, and the reader benefits from using their own imagination to picture the rest.

    Don't be disappointed with this. Once you get started on a tighter writing regime you'll find it easier than you expected, and a LOT more beneficial.

  5. #5

    Re: comments needed..

    "Less is more. Much more."


  6. #6
    Jon Q. Public

    Re: comments needed..

    Hi Zhi,

    I agree with the others.

    I tried, but I couldn't get through the first couple of sentences. You're asking too much of your readers. I have no idea what your story is about because, well -- that would be a lot of work. Don't ask your readers to work so hard.

  7. #7
    RM Roy

    Re: comments needed..

    I'm sorry, but this was too difficult for me to read. As said in "Writing Magic" by Gail Carson Levine (GREAT book, by the way), she had said that your reader must automatically look at a page and want to read it. You must have spaces, a variety of lengths for your paragraphs, and dialogue in-between.

    IN addition, in one of the first paragraphs I would change the phrase "brown-headed lady"

    From what I read at the beginning, there are many run-on sentences. Just spice up the writing by adding different lengths of sentences.

    Also, you did a GREAT job with detail, but it was almost too much. For some reason I felt that the mood of your story was trying to relax me as if I was having a lullaby sung to me. I'm not saying that your story was boring (it was definitely not), but each story has a mood and yours seemed like a relaxing mood-just to point that out.

    Once you make some adjustments to your story, I can tell that it can become fantastic.

  8. #8
    Joe Zeff

    Re: comments needed..

    Some of your sentences are beautiful, almost like a prose-poem. Alas, as others have said, there are too many of them and the effect is lost. One thing to remember is that there's no need to describe every, last, little detail of an object. Just give enough that your readers can fill in the blanks on their own.

    As an example, although I'm yet unpublished, I have finished several novels and had them critiqued by friends I can trust to be honest. (Often, these are called "beta-readers," in an analogy to beta-testers.) Several of them have been told in First Person POV, and the narrator has never yet described himself, but nobody's complained. I'm sure that each reader's image is different, but I don't care because exactly what the narrator looks like isn't important. If it were, I'd mention it.

  9. #9
    Mya Bell

    Re: comments needed..

    There's some lovely wording here, but far too much of it.

    You should never let your love of words overshadow the purpose of the story.

    How to fix it. Hmmm.

    On this crisp autumn night of tranquility where creatures of the day nestle down to swathe in their warm cocoons of silk & twigs while the nocturnal ones spread out their wings & venture out into the vast gist of a fluorescent lit evening, a bike rider dressed in sleek black leather speeds through the winding path up the isolated mountain. The word that could clearly describe the rider is mystery, a mysterious spectacle.

    Some things need to be said and some things can be implied.

    For example, it's difficult to imply "crisp" without a lot of references to the smell of the air, the crackle of leaves, etc., so crisp might be a good word to keep. But tranquil is something you can imply. As soon as you say "nestle down" it suggests traquility, which makes "tranquil" somewhat redundant.

    You also use "out" where it isn't necessary. Have you ever seen an insect or bird spread its wings "in"?

    The phrase "vast gist" is overdoing it. I'm not even sure what you mean.

    Mystery is also something that can be implied. Let the story reveal that it's mysterious.

    The first paragraph could be edited down to this:

    "On this crisp autumn night, where creatures of the day nestle into warm cocoons and nocturnal ones spread their wings, a bike rider, dressed in sleek black leather, speeds up the isolated mountain on a winding path."

    I had trouble reading beyond that. It was too verbose to hold my attention.

    --- Mya Bell

  10. #10
    d. Leroy

    Re: comments needed..

    I didn't see any beauty, only a lot of words. Like trying to sing a song with a mouthful of those little square caramels.

    That said, the construct is not bad, just cut down on all the flowery words and the attempt at elegance.


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