Cole Forest Scene

Ok, so here's the deal. I'm having trouble working out the details about a forest scene, where two men are traveling and need to converse. Basically the backstory to this scene is that this wandering woodcarver (Cole) had had a criptic vision of of his destiny in life, shown to him by a seer. While he's milling around a town that he found work to do, he sees this guy who just happened to be in his vision. So interest piqued, he decides to follow the man and see where it leads him. He winds up following the guy to another town, where he gets attacked by monster-ish creatures and kinda saves his life. It then gives Cole the change to intro himself to the guy who he's been following in secret since the last town. they end up going for a drink and staying at the safe inn. During their stay, while a little loose on drink, the man (Eagan) reveals to Cole that he is a member of the resistance, looking to overthrough the the evil ruler, and free the kingdom(cliche I know . . . .but it's for young adult fantasy) and he asks Cole to join him and travel to the resistance's stronghold. The scene starts with describing them getting up and starting on their journey.

This is what I have, but I'm not too keen on it. Actually the first two sentences are all I like right now.


The men had risen at daybreak and packed their bags. After settling up with the innkeeper and gobbling down a quick breakfast, the men headed down the north road out of town.
[They walked swiftly down the forest path, keeping the same pace as before. Only this time, the men traveled side by side.]

What needs to happen in this scene is this:

* needs to decribe the traveling in general (like pace, what it looks like, ect. Very basic and can be short)
* they need to start a conversation.
* during the conversation, Eagan has to tell Cole about his wife, Lynde. He must know that she is at the stronghold, she was a seamstress before the occupation, and then something endearing about her.
* Eagan also has to explain that he is pretty high up in the ranks of the resistance. He has been on a fact-finding mission for three months. He has to be pretty closed lipped about much more than that, for security sake.

If you have any ideas . . .I'm all ears (or eye as thde case may be)

Cole Opening Paragraphs

Just two more hours, he thought. Just two more.
Cole was so consumed by anxiety and eagerness that he couldn't concentrate on his carving. Trying to focus, he repeated the words, using them like a mantra to calm himself and his overactive brain. He had a job to finish before he was free to do anything, and the more time his brain spent on other things, the longer it would take to complete his task.
It was unlike Cole to be so unstable in his thoughts. Usually he was persistent in his duties. As a young boy he learned the hard way that a man's worth was decided by his actions. Since then he has had an insatiable quench to prove himself in all things that he did. Doing odd jobs to earn a night's keep, he discovered within himself a knack for carpentry, and preforming such tasks with grace and skill gave him a sense of great satisfaction. Not only did he excel in creating wonderful woodcarvings, but the carving gave him a feeling of peace and mental acuity that he did not find anywhere else. Today though, he could not find the peace he so desperately sought after. Instead, Cole could think of nothing but what he saw in the marketplace this morning, and the consequences that could come from it.
This morning, while walking through the marketplace on his way to work, he saw an average man buying food. Normally, Cole would have never given it a second thought. Such an ordinary scene wouldn't have even registered in his mind, except that the man looked familiar. For a glimpse, Cole could see the man's face, and it sparked something in his memory. He didn't know what at first, but digging deeper, he realized exactly where he had seen that face before.


* This is the first couple of paragraphs from a new story I'm writing (I know I jump around a lot) Places in need of work, questions, and random comments accepted and encouraged!

Thanks,

Runaway Rewrite 1

I stood at the bathroom sink watching the running water swirl down the drain, mustering the courage to look up into the mirror. From the way the right side of my face throbbed and stung, I knew it wouldn't be pretty. Well, it's now or never, I said to myself. Taking a deep breath and looking up, I realized it was worse than I thought.

Dark purple and blue blended with puffy green and yellow, from a swollen eyelid to my chin, brushing the matching blotches that ran from my shoulder to the skin under my turtleneck. Matching gashes of flesh flanked the top and bottom of my cheekbone and a knot, oddly in the shape of Greenland above my right temple.

Seeing the bruises and cuts covering my reflection made me flinch. They were bad this time. Not that they hadn't been bad other times. I was used to bad, but this was on a whole different level. I was used to seeing bruises, usually in places I could cover easily; shoulders, stomach, arms, legs. Places easily hidden by a sweater and a pair of jeans. Not on my face, never on my face. Even after wiping off the blood that had been caught trickling down my face underneath my eye and feeling the sharp pain of the fresh bruises as I brushed them, I still couldn't believe the poor girl's face on the other end of the mirror was really mine.

I sighed. How was I going to cover this up?



This is the rewrite of the first runaway entry . . . .hopefully it is more understandable. Thanks!

Runaway Try #2

These are paragraph somewhere a little later in the story. They both on different things

It's happened before. The last time I took the bus after an episode. A lady with her child. Nothing visual like now, a little bump on the cheek . . nothing more. But she looked at me, eyes seering into my heart; exposing my shame and showing the world I was a thing to be pitied. Everything I had accomplished and loved was cleared away, my heart emptied in an instant. I was just a poor girl, that now carried a bruise on my heart, all caused by a two eyes delving into my soul.


-------


Mo could hear the snoring over the metered laugh of the studio audience. She let out a silent sigh of relief; thinking they would never fall asleep. They only had fifteen minutes more to do so or all of her plans would be for naught. The sweat beaded on her face, and as she felt it slide down her brow she swiped it away. Not Now! She knew that if she started sweating, her hair would be a greasy-looking mess for the move, and it could be just the sign for a wary cop or nosey busy-body; any number of which they would encounter on the road, and only one was needed to blow the whole thing and put not only her, but everyone involved in serious jeopardy.

[background you might need to know: she's waiting for two people to fall asleep in front of a tv, so that she can sneak out of the house in order to escape her abuse. She is being helped and she is wearing a wig.]



Sorry that they are kind of random . . . but right now I'm still developing the story, and it has a lot of holes. For the first paragraph: too dramatic? (I think I've been reading too many sappy novels lately) The second: to wordy?

Runaway Try #1

The bruises were bad this time. They had been bad other times, usually in places I could cover easily; shoulders, back stomach, arms, legs. Hidden by a sweater, a pair of jeans, a thrown away tripped down the stairs, a noncommittal shrug “clumsy”. These were different, these were bad. Purple and blue blended with puffy green and yellow, from swollen eyelid to chin and brushing the matching blotches that ran from shoulder to the skin under my turtleneck, gashes of pinky flesh flanking my cheekbones (he wore his ring), a knot oddly the shape of Greenland above my right temple. Even after wiping off the blood that had been caught trickling down my eye, and after pouring concealer across my face, it was clear there was no way to diminish it's garishness, much less cover it up, despite what it might say, on the advertisements. Thanks A Lot, CoverGirl.
So I did my best to sweep my hair over the right side of my face, gave myself a half-hearted smile and headed out of the door.



This is from another idea. I know there are a bunch of run-on sentences. I tried to write it like someone would have spoken it looking at themselves and discribing what they saw in the mirror. Did it work? What felling do you think the character is going through? Is it too messy? Any other comments on anything?

Thanks,

Two Paragraphs

You proposed!?! Kyliea stared at him, bug-eyed.
Joreth bit his lip. “ Well, not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
I asked her father for her hand.”
“And he said yes.”
“No. . . but he gave me an ultimatum. He told me he would give me his blessing if I can save enough to own land.” Joreth stirred the flame, keeping it strong. “It's why I was so willing to take this job so far away from home. When I finish this commission I'll have enough to buy a parcel of land near the Shalim Falls. A good size, just enough to build a homestead.”

Kyliea smiled. She was happy that her older brother had been fortunate enough to find love. Though she hadn't met Carysse, Joreth had painted a picture of her in Kyliea's head. She had been the subject of many of the midnight meetings they shared together in confidence, away from prying ears. The two had met when Joreth had been on a delivery to need town. It was his first time there, and had trouble finding his way to the town's blacksmith's tents. Carysse had helped him find his way. After that Joreth always volunteered to make the delivery to need town, in hopes of seeing her again. And see her again he did. Through his visits he had fallen in love with her.

*So, what do you think? Is the dialogue reasonable? Are things explained fully? Does it leave you with questions?

Thanks,

Welcome!

I've started this blog as a way to get feedback for my writing. I have always enjoyed creating stories but I never had the ability to successfully translate them into print. Now, as I have found myself with an abundance of free time, I have decided to give it another go. . . and I NEED HELP! So, please, be as brutal as you can be, so long as it's constructive, and hopefully you will enjoy my posts.

Thanks!