Draft Attempt at Opening Chapter #2

[Arch9CivilReactor]

Using the feedback and understanding that the original story opening was too cheesy… and not in a good way. It’s not like I hate those type of stories but I feel starting with the MC curb-stomping the villain isn’t the right way.

That’s a bit too Xianxia of an opening.

No hate to that genre but I realise that’s not exactly what my story is about or how I want to introduce it to new readers. Trying to see if I can make it slow on interesting but I’m bad at intrigue without explosions so here goes nothing.

Anyway, this is attempt 2 of an opening chapter.

——————————————

Sometimes, a strong enough impression is enough to change a person. A strong enough feeling of absurdity is enough to make a child think they only became ‘real’ at that moment. It wasn’t a feeling kids could explain growing up.

But what happened today was way too strange.

I, Jordan Fisher, am a normal five year old.

Being the son of a Mage and being one of the first to gain the opportunity to experience what was known as an ‘Awakening Ceremony’, I felt myself suddenly feeling as if the world around me was unfamiliar. My vocabulary went up.

Since when was I so good at talking..

It feels like only yesterday I was fighting Jenny for no particular reason. Did I like her? I mean, I did like her attention. Maybe I should be nicer to her the next time we see each other. It’s mean to say she’s short when she has a complex about it.

Ah!

I almost forgot where I was for a second…

A man with a scar down the side of his face had a very regretful look. Father- No, I mean… Dad was arguing with the man who had been holding my arm until a moment ago. A glowing light could be seen hidden underneath my sleeve.

It took a bit of self-control to stop myself from rolling up my sleeve and touching it. Choosing to instead focus only on my father. I could tell that he was becoming increasingly agitated. There was something wrong. Did I do something bad?

“Dad, am I sick now…?” I twiddled my fingers.

“No, Jordan… It’s-”

“I’m sorry, little guy. You probably know why you came here, right?” The military man glanced at a priest nearby and got the crowd that was waiting their turn to move away. His voice calmly asking while kneeling to my eye level: “Be honest.”

“Dad wants me to become a Mage.”

“Mage? Looks like your father hasn’t heard.” The man seemed to have considerable rank. Dad was easily shushed and didn’t stop this man from talking to me. Even though I’d always thought he was the strongest person there is.

Who was this person?

Why did his blue eyes seem so familiar to me?

His smile was apologetic. Looking at me like I’d contacted a disease. Was I not sick? They sure were acting like I was. Bringing me to the side to talk to me privately. Away from my friends who came here to experience their own Awakening.

“Faustus City was constructed by the Magi Association, but Mages themselves have become useless with the developments into MagiTech. Now, even you and your friends get to enjoy the privilege of ‘Mana’. Are you hoping to accepted into the new Academy being built like your friends?” Even though he was talking about me, it felt like the man was drawing a clear line.

“I want to stay with my friends.”

“That will be difficult.” He made a strange look.

“But I got a Stigmata. Look.” I showed my arm.

My emotions somehow calm enough to explain.

It felt like something similar has happened to me before, but it was hard to say. The blue eyed military man looked at my Stigmata. Trying to choose his words carefully. It seemed like the problem wasn’t that I didn’t awaken properly.

What was the problem?

“Each person Awakens different powers, but there are those who are unfortunate. Awakening what’s called a ‘Cursed Gift’. We have looked into your power ourselves, and our analyst says your power is to ‘ignite the blood in your body’.”

“What…?” I couldn’t help asking for clarification.

“Your power is self-combustion. It’s an ability that will set you on fire. If you use your Gift, then there is a high chance you’ll die meaninglessly. I am sorry about this, but I hope you are mature enough to not use your ability. You’ll die.”

“But… What about my Mana?” It felt really bad.

I wasn’t sure what kind of face I was making right now, but Dad quickly came over to hug me tightly. The wetness of my face and runny nose smearing on his suit. I’m sorry… It was just hard to regulate my emotions. It just felt so bad.

“If you’re fine with it, you can try to attend with only that as your weapon… but it’ll be more difficult. You’ve got good talent. After , not everyone can Awaken in the first place. You will one day surpass the ‘Rank’ of mere Mages.” The man said meaningfully before leaving us be.

I watched from afar as Jenny took the stand.

Like I did before, she stood in front of a statue with a reverent gaze. Being helped by a priest to pray to The Graces. The priest in-charge doing the majority of work in speaking the prayers and guiding her to place her hand on her heart.

Seeing it from the outside felt so surreal.

Unlike me, when her arm started shimmering and her eyes opened again, she looked the same going out as she did going in. The difference being a smile from the military man. There was a congratulatory hand gesture from behind a glass.

Those former Mages at the back talking to him.

I didn’t know how to feel at that moment.

Happy that my friends were accepted, or sad that I wouldn’t be able to keep up. Dad was trying his best to comfort me, but it was hard to feel any better. I succeeded in Awakening, but a trait like this was worse than not having it at all.

Dad started to talk to me about the analytics.

They named it ‘Blood Ignition’.

“Jordan, do you want to enter the new academy in the future? I’ll respect your decision.” Even though he said that, I knew that Dad hoped that I wouldn’t be discouraged. A complicated feeling of not wanting me to be careless with my power.

Maybe fearing I might blow up by accident.

“I want to wait a little before I decide.”

“…Why are you talking in that weird way?”

“I’m not talking weirdly.”

“Okay, err… I’ll leave you to it.”

Was the change in my lisp that big, or was it something else? Dad left me alone, but I felt he was watching me from afar. There wasn’t long until I had to make a decision. Once everyone my age had Awakened, I’d need to send a form.

Probably two to three days…

I looked out to the streets out the window.

Faustus City was peaceful, and there was no reason to think this peace wouldn’t continue. It felt strange when I looked at the city. The bright neon lights and nighttime shades twisted in a strange way. My eyes were playing tricks on me.

Were those shadow faces?

It felt like I could see two eyes and a mouth everywhere in the darkness. Those creatures of the darkness seemed much more vivid than before. It made me unconsciously hold my Stigmata. Fearing the worst was yet to come.

It was difficult to describe this surreal feeling.

Like everything I ever knew was reorganising.

Was my intelligence growing?

It felt like I understood concepts I never knew…

I’d never considered Faustus City to be as much as a miracle as I did today. In the midst of a great apocalypse, what kind of person was able to gather so many people and advance society so quickly? Who was this ‘Hero of the People’?

They said City Governor ‘Celest Vagabond’ was the only reason Faustus City could be built along with other shelters. That if not for his timely help and assistance, humanity would’ve already been ended by the Enemies of Humanity we fought.

The great Magi Association was once his tool.

Huh? ‘Tool’?

I wonder why I suddenly felt so much animosity towards someone I’d never met. He was Dad’s boss and someone deserving respect. This city was saved solely by his efforts. The heck did I mean ‘the Magi Association was once his tool’?

It’s strange… I feel like I’m possessed.

…What was I doing again?

“Jordan, you feeling okay now?” Dad came back to have a go at me. Really giving me the ‘you are weird now, I am so sorry’ treatment. I didn’t go crazy because of the Cursed Gift. Really… At least, that’s what I was hoping he’d understand.

“Never better.” I tried to assure him.

Only to get a look as if he was creeped out.

Saying: “I think we need to see a doctor.”

“WHAT AM I SAYING WRONG?!”

“That’s more like it! You want to go to Jenny’s house today? We can plan a play date with your other friends. You love going out.” Dad tried to get me back to my old ways, but there was something on my mind that was hard to explain.

It felt like my mind was undergoing overhaul.

I felt a headache…

“Not today. Dad, umm… Just wanted to make sure, but… Are you on bad terms with Mom since the divorce?” As soon as I spoke, Dad made a face I couldn’t recognise. Strained and unable to clearly express his opinion in words.

“Did your Mom say anything…?”

“Not anymore.”

“Son, you… You’ve been acting strange ever since the ceremony. Why bring this up? You know she isn’t coming back to us. We are on our own. Just you and me… To the- Forget it. We’re not talking about this” Dad tried to be calm.

“…Okay.” I chose not to dig too deep into it.

Still, something was bothering me.

We were living pretty normally until that point and I wasn’t becoming stranger once Dad put me in my place. Maybe I just needed that cold water over my head. This strange transformation my brain was going through didn’t make me crazy.

I knew Mom wasn’t coming back.

That wasn’t something that could be changed or controlled by ‘being smart’. It took a while, but I was going back to normal. Talking with Jenny and apologising about how I used to treat her. A lot of things changed, but my life was the same.

Most kids my age were homeschooled, so the community always made sure we would interact with each other. I chose to seal off my Blood Ignition and continue my path to becoming a different type of Mage. To make Dad proud.

That was… until we saw the news.

“Damn it! Jordan, I need you to stay at home while I deal with this. Stay put and don’t open the door to any strangers!” Dad quickly put on a coat and ran to assist in relief efforts. There was a fire in the West District. A large-scale disaster.

The flames shown on the news affected me.

Making me feel a gut reaction of sorts.

‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’.

These unfamiliar words appeared in my head.

My head started ringing again. A pain much stronger than any other triggered a power that had laid dormant within me. I suddenly felt breathless. A heat growing and burning inside me until I couldn’t ignore the pain any longerz

“Ahh… AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!”

I started to scream.

‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’. ‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’. ‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’. ‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’. ‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’. ‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’. ‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’. ‘Great Fire of Old Faustus’.

Insanity was overcoming me.

I became dazed from pain. It was like there was a memory buried so deep it refused to appear.

Fragmented information started to become clear.

———————————————

This time it’s not pure regression but gaining fragmented memories and trying to figure out what they mean. I like protagonists that don’t have all the answers and have to work with what they got.

 

[GeppettoNoir]

Okay, so, something about me you should know because it effects everything I'm going to say:

I love negative and critical feedback. I love it because it feels honest. I've had a lot of people patronize me over the years, or try to spare my feelings, and I didn't really get any better until I was able to get someone to pick my stuff apart.

So if what I'm about to say comes off as overly critical or in any way mean, please know that it's coming from a good place.

In my mind I have this little crappy, poorly wrapped package. In it is probably something you either don't need or already have. But it's all I could afford. It's all I have to give. I hope you will simply take it for what it is.

Spoiler: Critical Feedback

For me, just me personally, I got lost at the start. My mind was pushed into a sort of "uncanny valley" by the first person narration from a 5-year-old. My suspension of disbelief was stretched to it's breaking point too quickly. But I kept reading because I was curious to see your writing style in action and I wanted to see how your stylistic choices might effect moving your story forward.

Note: Are you married to this concept? If you need to keep the first person narration, is it possible to do a soft reveal? Possibly write in an ambiguous way so the reader doesn't realize the narrator is the 5 year old at least for a few lines? It might extend the time before the shock of reading a 5 year old's mature and developed thought process in the narration. One possible way might be to avoid "I" and speak in passive voice until it's time for your soft reveal. You might be able to enhance the effect by using it just the right time. A moment when you feel the reader might naturally start to question who the narrator is.

Your opening is a little disorienting right now. There's no setting established so everything feels like it's taking place in the abstract when suddenly the dialogue begins. As a reader, I feel like I'm being sorta jerked around from point to point. I also saw where you slipped in the explanation for the 5 year old's mature narration but it feels like just that--an explanation. It feels like the author is asking me to believe rather than enticing me to believe.

“Dad, am I sick now…?” I twiddled my fingers.

This is a pro move. This one line communicates more about the character than everything leading up to it. In all honesty, it's powerful enough to be your opening. It communicates youth, innocence, vulnerability, inexperience, and worry for the unknown that such inexperience can shroud.

But then the ball drops immediately after.

“No, Jordan… It’s-”

“I’m sorry, little guy. You probably know why you came here, right?”

Use your powah! Lean into that strength. In the first line you blend dialogue and body language in a way that communicates the character. Do it again. Maybe something like:

“No, Jordan… It’s-” he balked. His breath caught in his chest. Then he sighed.

“I’m sorry, little guy," he smiled down at me. "You probably know why you came here, right?”

In your chapter draft you weave between artful use of this technique and silent holes of missed opportunity. Trust yourself. You can always edit out any bloat later. Check out this part:

“I want to stay with my friends.”

“That will be difficult.” He made a strange look.

“But I got a Stigmata. Look.” I showed my arm.

This part might be strengthened by alternating where you are flowing the energy of the scene. Watch when you flip the focus like so:

“I want to stay with my friends.” My voice was faint. I could almost hear it disappear into the silence (or the bustle of people around).

“That will be difficult.”

“But," my voice piqued. "I got a Stigmata. Look.” I offered my arm.

That silence right after "That will be difficult" feels almost stern. Matter of fact. The abruptness is like a wall. We also communicate character again here. Both with what's said and with what's left unsaid. The word change from "showed" to "offered" helps carry on that sense of vulnerability and innocence in your character. Showing something is yours. Offering it is giving. I hope that makes sense.

I saw "MagiTech" and realized you were cool :P

Big fan of that sort of thing. Just me, personally.

I read on!

There are a lot of times you miss out on the chance to stretch your legs. Like this part:

It’s strange… I feel like I’m possessed.

…What was I doing again?

It was strange? Strange how? Strange by whose standards? This is that old "show vs tell" problem we all struggle with. The bones are there. You even have room to get weird and transition back abruptly because I can tell you are communicating a sort of broken reverie or snapping out of a daydream type feeling.

Since it looks like you are dealing with the possibility of repressed memories or emergent identities, what if you did something like this to help strengthen the theme:

The great Magi Association was once his tool. A tool he held in both hands as if to keep a firm grip on it's control. With one hand he held up the illusion of their greatness. With the other he sought to realize his own power.

The thought of it stirred something within me. My breath grew sharper. Faster. I could feel my nostrils flaring. Hear the blood pounding in my head. I felt my gut wrench with something dark. Felt it twist into knots. The acid rising in my throat. My nose twitched. A scowling look of hatred and disgust was trying to crawl onto my face.

Then it passed.

Something cool washed over me. A tiny light of clarity cracked through the red haze and expanded. It washed the hate away.

What was that?

Why did I suddenly feel so much animosity towards someone I’d never met? He was Dad’s boss. Someone deserving respect. This city was saved solely by his efforts. The Magi Association was his tool? Where did that come from?

I shook it off--but something still lingered... A presence. Like something just beneath the surface. Just under my skin.

Suddenly I felt awkwardly aware of the present. What was I doing again?

Maybe something like that? You can try to pull the reader into the crazy. Just long enough to get a grip of their shirt like "listen here, pal" then just as quick as you pulled them in you let them go. Maybe even push them out. Then--boom--transition.

Keep in mind, I'm just like you. Just another writer out there in the world. Like two wandering swordsmen meeting on the road to anywhere. If I were to RP this in metaphor, it would go something like this:

Two warriors met one day in passing. The dirt road sliced the countryside in two--waving fields of golden grain on one side. Rising mountains white capped with snow on the other. They met in the middle.

One wore formal attire. Black hat. Black suit. Sword cane in hand.

The other was donned in silk and lace. Long white hair cascading down over black velvet and blood red.

They stopped. The formal warrior's eyes glinted under the brim of his peculiar hat. "Nice sword you got there."

The warrior in lace stood relaxed. The red ribbons threaded through the silk were both functional and decorative. Pulling at the fabric in some places and hanging down in others to dangle exotically. "Thank you."

"May I?" The man in the hat bowed. Quick but courteous.

The warrior in lace unbuckled the attachment. The weapon went out for inspection in one fluid movement. No fear. No hesitation. Only the Way.

The man in the hat inspected the blade. It was sharp. The metal was well cared for. A crisp glare of sunlight reflected off the surface. It moved up and down the blade as he tilted it to one side or the other. A line of light painted across his face, reflected from the blade. For a brief moment the shadow beneath his hat was dispelled to reveal a set of tired eyes edged with the lines of past smiles.

As the light reflected away, the shadow of his brim returned. A glint of curious admiration twinkled beneath it.

"I see you've assembled the guard like so." He returned the warrior's weapon, next offering his own. "Take a look."

The warrior in lace accepted the offering. Cool eyes inspected the weapon. It was similar. The grip was worn. The guard structured a little differently. But the gist was the same. The warrior in lace took note of the odd details.

The man in the hat shrugged. "It works for me."

A smile pulled gently at one corner of the warrior's mouth. "Interesting."

As the weapons made their way back to their owners, the warriors bid one another farewell and continued down the dusty dirt road.

Two warriors. Two paths.

One road.

That's all this is.

So lastly I just gotta point out the ending. To me, it feels like you did a good job with the ramping up. I could feel the energy building in the scene. The main problem with your ending, for me, was your beginning and middle. It didn't feel like you ever really planted the seeds for the whole memory bleed-through. So it felt like a payoff with no setup. Maybe it would help if you had minor bleed-throughs leading up to it.

Now that I think of it, in all fairness I think you did have some moments like that. But they weren't expanded on. They were in those areas where I mentioned where it felt like you didn't "stretch your legs". So they went as quick as they came and didn't quite land with enough impact.

By the time I finished reading it, I was intrigued but my interest was swallowed up by the questions. Instead of asking myself "what comes next" I was fixating on the 5 year old thing. Mostly because I was having trouble consolidating the image I had built of the character in my head through reading the narration and the fact that they were supposed to be only 5 years old.

The thought occured to me that I might also be outside your target audience. In trying to visualize your story and it's characters, my brain felt like an AI art generator told to make something it didn't have the training data for. So the image in my head couldn't coalesce properly. Maybe if I had read/seen more animes/mangas with child protoganists I'd have a better framework of understanding.

So that's definitely a thing. At best, my opinions might be of the"general outside audience" variety.

All that being said, what I did focus on was the natural feel of it all. There's something here, for sure. Even through a critical eye, I could see a story unfolding.

Keep going!

 

[Arch9CivilReactor]

Okay, so, something about me you should know because it effects everything I'm going to say:

I love negative and critical feedback. I love it because it feels honest. I've had a lot of people patronize me over the years, or try to spare my feelings, and I didn't really get any better until I was able to get someone to pick my stuff apart.

So if what I'm about to say comes off as overly critical or in any way mean, please know that it's coming from a good place.

In my mind I have this little crappy, poorly wrapped package. In it is probably something you either don't need or already have. But it's all I could afford. It's all I have to give. I hope you will simply take it for what it is.

Spoiler: Critical Feedback

For me, just me personally, I got lost at the start. My mind was pushed into a sort of "uncanny valley" by the first person narration from a 5-year-old. My suspension of disbelief was stretched to it's breaking point too quickly. But I kept reading because I was curious to see your writing style in action and I wanted to see how your stylistic choices might effect moving your story forward.

Note: Are you married to this concept? If you need to keep the first person narration, is it possible to do a soft reveal? Possibly write in an ambiguous way so the reader doesn't realize the narrator is the 5 year old at least for a few lines? It might extend the time before the shock of reading a 5 year old's mature and developed thought process in the narration. One possible way might be to avoid "I" and speak in passive voice until it's time for your soft reveal. You might be able to enhance the effect by using it just the right time. A moment when you feel the reader might naturally start to question who the narrator is.

Your opening is a little disorienting right now. There's no setting established so everything feels like it's taking place in the abstract when suddenly the dialogue begins. As a reader, I feel like I'm being sorta jerked around from point to point. I also saw where you slipped in the explanation for the 5 year old's mature narration but it feels like just that--an explanation. It feels like the author is asking me to believe rather than enticing me to believe.

“Dad, am I sick now…?” I twiddled my fingers.

This is a pro move. This one line communicates more about the character than everything leading up to it. In all honesty, it's powerful enough to be your opening. It communicates youth, innocence, vulnerability, inexperience, and worry for the unknown that such inexperience can shroud.

But then the ball drops immediately after.

“No, Jordan… It’s-”

“I’m sorry, little guy. You probably know why you came here, right?”

Use your powah! Lean into that strength. In the first line you blend dialogue and body language in a way that communicates the character. Do it again. Maybe something like:

“No, Jordan… It’s-” he balked. His breath caught in his chest. Then he sighed.

“I’m sorry, little guy," he smiled down at me. "You probably know why you came here, right?”

In your chapter draft you weave between artful use of this technique and silent holes of missed opportunity. Trust yourself. You can always edit out any bloat later. Check out this part:

“I want to stay with my friends.”

“That will be difficult.” He made a strange look.

“But I got a Stigmata. Look.” I showed my arm.

This part might be strengthened by alternating where you are flowing the energy of the scene. Watch when you flip the focus like so:

“I want to stay with my friends.” My voice was faint. I could almost hear it disappear into the silence (or the bustle of people around).

“That will be difficult.”

“But," my voice piqued. "I got a Stigmata. Look.” I offered my arm.

That silence right after "That will be difficult" feels almost stern. Matter of fact. The abruptness is like a wall. We also communicate character again here. Both with what's said and with what's left unsaid. The word change from "showed" to "offered" helps carry on that sense of vulnerability and innocence in your character. Showing something is yours. Offering it is giving. I hope that makes sense.

I saw "MagiTech" and realized you were cool :P

Big fan of that sort of thing. Just me, personally.

I read on!

There are a lot of times you miss out on the chance to stretch your legs. Like this part:

It’s strange… I feel like I’m possessed.

…What was I doing again?

It was strange? Strange how? Strange by whose standards? This is that old "show vs tell" problem we all struggle with. The bones are there. You even have room to get weird and transition back abruptly because I can tell you are communicating a sort of broken reverie or snapping out of a daydream type feeling.

Since it looks like you are dealing with the possibility of repressed memories or emergent identities, what if you did something like this to help strengthen the theme:

The great Magi Association was once his tool. A tool he held in both hands as if to keep a firm grip on it's control. With one hand he held up the illusion of their greatness. With the other he sought to realize his own power.

The thought of it stirred something within me. My breath grew sharper. Faster. I could feel my nostrils flaring. Hear the blood pounding in my head. I felt my gut wrench with something dark. Felt it twist into knots. The acid rising in my throat. My nose twitched. A scowling look of hatred and disgust was trying to crawl onto my face.

Then it passed.

Something cool washed over me. A tiny light of clarity cracked through the red haze and expanded. It washed the hate away.

What was that?

Why did I suddenly feel so much animosity towards someone I’d never met? He was Dad’s boss. Someone deserving respect. This city was saved solely by his efforts. The Magi Association was his tool? Where did that come from?

I shook it off--but something still lingered... A presence. Like something just beneath the surface. Just under my skin.

Suddenly I felt awkwardly aware of the present. What was I doing again?

Maybe something like that? You can try to pull the reader into the crazy. Just long enough to get a grip of their shirt like "listen here, pal" then just as quick as you pulled them in you let them go. Maybe even push them out. Then--boom--transition.

Keep in mind, I'm just like you. Just another writer out there in the world. Like two wandering swordsmen meeting on the road to anywhere. If I were to RP this in metaphor, it would go something like this:

Two warriors met one day in passing. The dirt road sliced the countryside in two--waving fields of golden grain on one side. Rising mountains white capped with snow on the other. They met in the middle.

One wore formal attire. Black hat. Black suit. Sword cane in hand.

The other was donned in silk and lace. Long white hair cascading down over black velvet and blood red.

They stopped. The formal warrior's eyes glinted under the brim of his peculiar hat. "Nice sword you got there."

The warrior in lace stood relaxed. The red ribbons threaded through the silk were both functional and decorative. Pulling at the fabric in some places and hanging down in others to dangle exotically. "Thank you."

"May I?" The man in the hat bowed. Quick but courteous.

The warrior in lace unbuckled the attachment. The weapon went out for inspection in one fluid movement. No fear. No hesitation. Only the Way.

The man in the hat inspected the blade. It was sharp. The metal was well cared for. A crisp glare of sunlight reflected off the surface. It moved up and down the blade as he tilted it to one side or the other. A line of light painted across his face, reflected from the blade. For a brief moment the shadow beneath his hat was dispelled to reveal a set of tired eyes edged with the lines of past smiles.

As the light reflected away, the shadow of his brim returned. A glint of curious admiration twinkled beneath it.

"I see you've assembled the guard like so." He returned the warrior's weapon, next offering his own. "Take a look."

The warrior in lace accepted the offering. Cool eyes inspected the weapon. It was similar. The grip was worn. The guard structured a little differently. But the gist was the same. The warrior in lace took note of the odd details.

The man in the hat shrugged. "It works for me."

A smile pulled gently at one corner of the warrior's mouth. "Interesting."

As the weapons made their way back to their owners, the warriors bid one another farewell and continued down the dusty dirt road.

Two warriors. Two paths.

One road.

That's all this is.

So lastly I just gotta point out the ending. To me, it feels like you did a good job with the ramping up. I could feel the energy building in the scene. The main problem with your ending, for me, was your beginning and middle. It didn't feel like you ever really planted the seeds for the whole memory bleed-through. So it felt like a payoff with no setup. Maybe it would help if you had minor bleed-throughs leading up to it.

Now that I think of it, in all fairness I think you did have some moments like that. But they weren't expanded on. They were in those areas where I mentioned where it felt like you didn't "stretch your legs". So they went as quick as they came and didn't quite land with enough impact.

By the time I finished reading it, I was intrigued but my interest was swallowed up by the questions. Instead of asking myself "what comes next" I was fixating on the 5 year old thing. Mostly because I was having trouble consolidating the image I had built of the character in my head through reading the narration and the fact that they were supposed to be only 5 years old.

The thought occured to me that I might also be outside your target audience. In trying to visualize your story and it's characters, my brain felt like an AI art generator told to make something it didn't have the training data for. So the image in my head couldn't coalesce properly. Maybe if I had read/seen more animes/mangas with child protoganists I'd have a better framework of understanding.

So that's definitely a thing. At best, my opinions might be of the"general outside audience" variety.

All that being said, what I did focus on was the natural feel of it all. There's something here, for sure. Even through a critical eye, I could see a story unfolding.

Keep going!

Honestly you just write better than me in general. I want to be creative in narration but all I tend to do is be better at third person storytelling. I figured out nearly instantly that there would be a gap between my narration and the character because I’ve become so bad at 1st Person now.

More than just my dyslexia stumping my creativity in how I present stuff. I actually had no idea on how to blend religion and science so I could only write ‘praying and standing behind a glass window’. I’m finding visualising what I’m trying to write difficult right now.

Maybe if I use third person narration I’d be able to get a better view of the situation in my novel from my perspective. Helping visualise stuff that I hadn’t been able to expand upon in this draft.

Thank you for your valuable insights and it was a fun RP to read. The way you describe things are so beautifully crafted that I found my own writing more intriguing when read the way you put it. I’m impressed by how easily you improved it.

The whole five-year old thing isn’t a narrative plot point I want to change but the presentation indeed needs more working on. I don’t expect perfection because there should indeed be a stretch in suspension of disbelief at this point.

It’s unavoidable that there will be readers confused than understanding of why a five-year old is so mentally different right off the bat. I’m thinking of changing the order of events a little and PoV to third person to try to mitigate that.

Attempt three will definitely be influenced by your very straightforward and critical opinion. It’s also fair about the pacing issues you brought up because I did use a Plantser style of writing whatever came to mind in this current version.

With what I learned today, I hope the next attempt will flow more naturally.

Thank you for your response. I’ll keep the given advice in my heart while writing it again.

 

[GeppettoNoir]

Honestly, I'm in the same boat with first person narration. It feels clunky to me. The writers that pull it off make it feel so clean. And it feels personable like it draws you in. But when I try to do it I feel like a kid trying to jam a square peg into a round hole. It just doesn't work for me. (yet? hopefully)

I read a few different posts and realized afterwards they were also from you, working towards your goals on this project. There's a palpable enthusiasm in your text when you talk about it. That's awesome. The more I read the more I got where you were coming from with your characters.

I'm glad I didn't deter you. I hope the feedback proves helpful. And thank you for the kind words!

Reading your work, I would never have guessed at the dyslexia. How intriguing. I admire those who lean into the struggle. Those who fight their fight. Perhaps describing you in metaphor as a warrior was a bit of Synchronicity. :D

Looking forward to your next draft! o/