The Anatta left her alone to watch Bren die.

Excellent first line.

A trembling hand brushed across Bren’s hot cheek, her fingertips smoothing the damp, copper strands.

No disconnected body parts, please. :-) Attach her hand to her arm… *She brushed a trembling hand across Bren’s hot cheek, smoothed back his damp, copper-streaked hair with her fingertips.*

Her head bowed.

Here, too. “She bowed her head.*

His wails, soft now, came farther and farther apart.

I wouldn’t really think of wails as soft…ever. Perhaps something like: His pitifully soft moans came farther and farther apart?

Each ragged breath drew him from her.

Not sure how his ragged breath could take him from her.

He made a slight choking sound and for a brief moment, silence hung heavily in the room.

Add “then.” *He made a slight choking sound and then, for a moment, silence hung heavily in the room.*
Otherwise, his choking and the silence happened at the same time, and that’s not possible. :-)

“Who . . .,” she began then stopped.

Incorrect tag. Make the dialogue and the punctuation do the job. “Who–?” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Who is there?”

As the words left her mouth,

A little awkward. I’d just delete it. Just go with the moving shadow…

Before her wide eyes, the approaching shadow drifted into the light, materializing into a tall humanoid figure dressed in stark, light-absorbing black.

Beginning is a little awkward. *She watched, wide-eyed, as the approaching shadow drifted into the light, materializing into a tall, humanoid figure dressed in stark, light-absorbing black.

I see the same problem with manuscripts that authors have contested a lot with–they enter a contest, they tweak, add water, rinse until the story loses whatever shine it had that made it special in the first place.

I agree that the first line could be cut, to preserve the flow, which is great from there on out.

And as much as I do love futuristic romance, the immediate intro of the new words, i.e. Anatta, only make me want to figure out who/what that is. Worldbuilding and such is key in these types of stories, along with the romance, but is there, perhaps, a better way for you to introduce your book’s unique words? Without info dumping of course. I wish I knew a good way for you to do so, but I’m sure you can tell I’m new to critiquing.

Well, maybe by giving the English word it represents right after. So, say if Anatta means bodyguard to us, that first sentence could be: The Anatta, the bodyguard, left her alone to watch Bren die. I know that may not be the best solution, but it could be a possibility.

I immediately assumed since Cyri is the young prince’s caretaker, that she is old (just a knee jerk kind of reaction I suppose), and I’m not sure if she’s meant to be the heroine or a character that the humanoid figure meets at first, in effect starting the book off with the hero instead.

Your description of the humanoid figure is great – with very little description, that light-absorbing black garb they wear is all the description I need to get a first impression – that this person is imposing and dangerous.

And part of that first impression is I wish there was more because I do want to continue.

I’m not sure if it’s been mentioned (I tend to only read the first few comments) but as a reader I don’t want to get too many introductions on the first page. It makes me feel as though I need to sit down and take notes. Skip the last name and gve me a proper introduction later in the chapter.

Along the same note, I also want names to be easily sounded out. If you feel the need to explain the pronunciation you’ve lost me. TBH, it doesn’t matter how the author WANTS it to sound, I’ll read it as I see it. I’m a very visual person and if it’s not something that makes sense nearly instantly, I don’t process it as sound, I see it as an image. I have problems with futuristic/sci-fi that have a lot of funky names and spellings because of this. It’s just hard to track who and what everyone is/are, especially of spellings are visually simular.

The setup is great and I would keep reading, even with the word-clutter.

As I look at the first paragraph, I think it’s cluttered with names and a little confusing.

My editor-hat tells me that something like this would work better:

The Anatta left her alone to watch Bren die. Cyri stood by the bedside of the young Lourvain prince, her legs barely keeping her upright. Her trembling hand brushed across Bren’s hot cheek, fingertips smoothing the damp, copper strands of hair. He moaned under his caretaker’s touch, his head moving from side to side. Agony etched deep lines into his skin, lending his young features a momentary illusion of age.

You can give Cyri’s last name (or locative or patronymic or trade name or whatever it is) later.

First line worked, identify who’s hand is doing the brushing, and limit her reactions to the intruder. Some of the emotion is a bit purple; as long as it eases up, I wouldn’t mind in this scene.

I would read on.

Just to clarify in case anyone is still interested. The Anatta is not a wife, nurse, etc. It is the name of a parasite race of aliens. And you bet, they are a nasty, hungry race. Yes, this is indeed a futuristic universe and takes place nowhere near Earth. In fact, very shortly space travel will ensue. :D

Lourvain is Cyri’s (Sear-ri pronunciation) and Bren’s homeworld. I could probably take that out. Bren is being taken over by one of the parasites and his soul is being forced out. Yes, it’s very painful and the Annatta left Cyri alone to watch him die. She’s, in Earth terms, mid-twenties and has lived a sheltered life but is by no means a weakling. Part of the arc is her growth – finding out who she is and what she’s made of. I don’t want to give too much away, obviously, but certainly more is explained.

For the most part, I don’t use any more made up words then most others do when writing for the paranormal/futuristic genres. Maybe they seem worse because there are a quite a few in the beginning? I’ll take a look at that.

Thanks gang! This was fun! I appreciate all the feedback!

sound’s source
I’d change to “it’s source.”

Actually, I think it should be “its” source, not “it’s” source, since it is a possessive, not a contraction of “it is”.

OTOH, I don’t much like the name Cyri because I dislike names that I haven’t a clue how to pronounce. Is the C hard or soft? Is the Y pronounced like an English long E or long I? Wondering about such things and other made-up names distracts from the story. Of course, if it turns out that Cyri is a traditional Welsh name or some such, I’ll just say “never mind” and skulk back into my corner (but I’d still have to ask how to pronounce it).

I like this. I think it’s pretty well done: competantly written, good hook. I’m engaged and I would turn the page to see what happened next.

I agree with Mrs. Giggles and the others about the weird terms in the beginning “anatta” and “Lourvain”. In the interest of orienting the reader maybe save those for later. You don’t have to build the whole world all at once.

I liked the first line. It caught me and made me read more. I kind of assumed the prince was in exile or imprisoned. I thought the tone of the whole piece kind of implied abandonment to his fate, not respect. That’s just me, though.

I must say I think this is one of the best first pages we’ve seen so far. Best of luck with it. :D

So, Miss author, all being said and done, I found your sub engaging. I’d ask for a partial or full, if in that position.

Cyri Naadhira, caretaker of the young Lourvain prince, stood by his bedside, her legs barely keeping her upright.

A trembling hand brushed across Bren’s hot cheek, her fingertips smoothing the damp

He moaned under her touch, his head moving from side to side.

Agony etched deep lines into his skin making it appear

Pulling her hand back, she folded her arms about her waist, holding tight.

Swallowing around a tight throat, she asked

the approaching shadow drifted into the light, materializing into a tall humanoid figure

Cyri gasped, flinching backwards.

As the words left her mouth, one of the darkest shadows moved.

IMO these sentence constructions aren’t as strong as they could be. In Renni Browne and Dave King’s excellent book, Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, they give a similar example, using the following sentences:

Pulling off her gloves, she turned to face him.

and:

As she pulled off her gloves, she turned to face him.

Here’s what they say about it:

Both the as construction and the -ing construction as used above are grammatically correct and express the action clearly and unambiguously. But notice that both of these constructions take a bit of action (“She pulled off her gloves”) and tuck it away into a dependent clause (“Pulling off her gloves…”). This tends to place some of your action at one remove from your reader, to make these actions seem incidental, unimportant. If you use these constructions often, you weaken your writing.

They suggest “She pullled off her gloves and turned to face him” or even “She pulled off her gloves, turned to face him” as alternatives.

John Gardner, in his book The Art of Fiction, also talks about sentences that start with infinitive-verb phrases (verbs ending in -ing), which he says “one is wise to treat…as guilty until proven innocent.”

Generally it comes about because the writer cannot think of a way to vary the length of his sentences. The writer looks at the terrible thing he’s written: “She slipped off the garter. She turned to John. She smiled at his embarrassment,” and in a desperate attempt to get rid of the dully thudding subjects and verbs he revises to “She slipped off the garter. Turning to John, she smiled at his embarrassment.” The goal, sentence variety, is to be admired, but there are better ways. One can get rid of the thudding subjects and verbs by using compound predicates: “She slipped off the garter and turned to John”; by introducing qualifiers and appositional phrases: “She slipped — or rather, yanked — off the garter, a frayed, mournful pink one long past its prime, gray elastic peeking out past the ruffles, indifferently obscene” (etc.) or by finding some appropriate subordinate clause, perhaps: “When she had slipped off the garter, she turned to John”

Gardner, Browne and King all say that these sentence constructions have their place, and aren’t always necessarily bad. And to throw in my own two cents, I don’t believe there are any rules in fiction that can’t be broken, if they’re broken skillfully enough. But I do think it’s a good idea to watch for overusing these constructions and for having a lot of things happening simulatenously in a scene.

As I said above, I think the excerpt is very strong. I encourage you to finish it and applaud you for your courage in posting it (especially after last week’s brouhaha).

First… when I suggested cutting the first line, it’s not because I don’t like it. It’s actually fabulous! The problem is that it doesn’t flow well with the rest of the paragraph. And, since the second line is ALSO a fantastic first line, and it flows better, that’s the one I’d go with. :-)

Also… I’d like to counter JoB’s suggestion of cutting 90% of the adjectives and adverbs. Quite frankly, if you’d cut that many, I wouldn’t have liked it. I know extremely tight writing is the “style” now, and a LOT of what’s being published is written that way… but I honestly don’t care for it. Books written in that style usually turn me off before the first page is done. It comes across (to me) as clipped and rough. I suppose I like a more musical and rhythmic story-telling style.

I say that, not to say that JoB is wrong. She’s right, if you want to get published by agents and editors who also prefer that style. However, there are also those of us who do NOT like that style. So go with whichever fits your voice. That’s really what I’m suggesting.

The best of everything to you!

May I add three thoughts:

– There’s a general TMI problem.

Look at the opening sentence. Too many unfamiliar terms. Too many distractions from the story.

The Anatta left her alone to watch Bren die. Cyri Naadhira, caretaker of the young Lourvain prince

May I suggest you be simple when your open the story. Be strong, plain, engaging, direct. Grab the reader.
Fill in the details later.

Maybe start with …

Bren wouldn’t last much longer. His wails, soft now, came farther and farther apart. Each ragged breath drew him from her. When he died, she’d have no one.

Look at the clear emotion of that. Grabbing, isn’t it? We don’t need any of that extraneous information.

– Strip off 90% of your adjectives and adverbs. They’re not doing you any good.

He made a slight choking sound and for a brief moment, silence hung heavily in the room.

He choked and stilled. For a moment silence hung in the room.

Faint light from two luminas cast numerous shadows on the smooth, granite walls of the large chamber.

The luminas cast a hundred shadows on the granite walls.

– Give yourself more time.

The first emotional truth is the dying child. This is a big deal. Linger.
You don’t have to jump to the surprise visitor 200 words in.

Instead … slow down. Enrich the nurse-child relationship. Give us her thoughts and memories;
Did she nurse Brem at her breast?
Did she carry him on her back in a sling when she went to market?
Did she teach him how to swim?
Is the toy he’s holding one that she made for him?

Show us the relationship,
and you won’t have to hit the reader over the head with … Anguish seared her heart and tightened her throat
… which is a shortcut, telling us how she feels.
You’re working too hard. It gets a bit purple-ish.

Use a page or two. Work to let the reader ’see’ that anguish.

You have a second spot where you’re going purple because you skimp on the preparation.

Somebody walks in quietly. Swish swish. So Cyri gets scared.

Swallowing around a tight throat
Cyri gasped, flinching backwards.
Her heart leaped into her throat.

Which is a lot of shock and awe to greet a serving maid wandering in with a comforting vente hazelnut latte, skinny, no foam … which is what I’d expect to walk into a palace chamber.

Cyri’s physical reaction … her throbbing heart and the column of cold in her throat … are trying to carry the entire burden of this threatening visitor.
But if you’ve laid some groundwork … if you’ve built up some atmosphere … her physical reactions will feel more natural.

This sentence keeps drawing my attention, but I’m not sure whether it’s in a good or bad way: “His wails, soft now, came farther and farther apart.” It’s intriguing, but what does it mean?

Overall I feel there are some fresh elements here, and a nice voice, as well as some things, especially in the language, that feel less fresh and compelling to me, like this line: “Anguish seared her heart and tightened her throat.” It feels more like melodramatic telling than emotionally wrenching showing. Same with this one: “Flickering darkness mocked her attempts to see what secrets they hid.” Can darkness flicker?

And for some reason the last paragraph seemed anti-climatic to me. I don’t know if it’s the long build-up or the abstracted description of the figure. I like that we don’t know the gender or identity of the figure, but would still like to see more intensity in this description, more like the first half of the excerpt.

I would still turn the page, though, to see what comes next.

I do want to know how old Cyri is–and on the first read, I missed “young” boy, so I was thinking he’d be her contemporary. Unless she’s a “young” girl, too, and they are going to grow up together and then unite somehow. So maybe establishing that age thing would he helpful.

I didn’t know what “the annatta” was, but I didn’t really care. However, I create worlds myself, so I could be the type of reader who allows for some confusion as I know things will unfold. And the good news is that you didn’t do the info dump to tell us the history of annattas and such. I was caught up with the ill boy, the girl who was nervous and caring, and the figure that appeared.

Good luck!

Two uses of ‘young’ in the first paragraph seems repetitive.

Leaving him alone with her to die does seem unexpected, according to expectations of our own culture – I wonder if it is worthwhile to add a little so its clear what the motivation is. Do they desert the pair because the culture really is so cold to a dying person? Or maybe they do so as a sign of respect, to, I don’t know, allow that person the dignity of passing without witnesses to their final agony, or something? Would be helpful to know from their perspective rather than just guessing from our own. At this point, we have no clue how the heroine thinks of their leaving. She is grieving yes, but is she calm at their departure or resents it?