Scene vs Narrative
From class last night. Two exercises. One short and chopped, hard on action. The other, long and flowing...Jane Austenesque.
The Mantis pinned Rayelle's wrist down. His bony knee sliced off circulation. A cold sick feeling ran down her trapped arm. Her free arm grasped for her knife. Just as she reached it, Mantis punched. Blue light filled Rayelle's eyes. Blood rivered from her sinuses to throat. She turned back, eyes blazing feral defiance. The Mantis pulled back in appreciation. Rayelle spat a chunk of blood.
The Mantis wheezed bitterly. Death rattled out in cold pieces. "Big Gregor ain't happy with you, girlie. You lost his shipment. You ran."
Rayelle spat again, painting Mantis' nose.
"You can stop now," she said. "I'll only cut your balls off."
Mantis leaned harder. Rayelle's hand was still-birth blue.
"Little girl, big mouth." Mantis said. "I heard you were the shit. Number one trader in Outermarket."
He brought his Bowie knife down. He pressed the blade on her trapped wrist.
This was the soul of Outermarket, lapped in a hundred languages and customs, unsure of the corners and dimensions, while all knowing the etiquette for tantamount survival of traders, for in here was the clockwork juju and mantras of buying and selling, scouting and arranging, and appraising, all woven into a complex quilt of sights, smells, sounds that breathe and shake with the heartbeat of commerce beyond the Green Zone, for here was where anyone could trade anything and theft was dealt with brutally, quickly, and sometimes with a cheering crowd desperate for entertainment and the outdated, sparse application of fairness, for they - all of the weary and the savvy and hopeful - came to the Outermarket for a chance at a slightly better survival, and this is the soul of Outermarket.
P.S. Had my synopsis critiqued. I did it all wrong, as I figured. A bit strange to have people read the summaried novel. No more secrets now, as if I stood up naked in class, turning all angles so everyone gets a good look.
3 comments:
hi john,
wow. that's quite descriptive and brutal. can almost taste the blood. you make the outermarket sound like a roman arena. if i were holding the book, i'm definitely not gonna stop right there.
Yay!
Outermarket (a concept I had been toying with) is akin to a sprawl-brawl of a flea market. Imagine eBay made real in the Wild West. Outermarket is going to be peripheral to the story. Rayelle makes a couple trips there, as well as Outermarket getting superceded at the end by another entity.
fuck em. who are 'they' to tell you how to write? you're the artist. you go with your gut and your soul. they can help you with the logistics of writing but not the talent. you have that and they wish they had it. fuck em. they're just jealous. carry on.
- b
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