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Cyril
08-01-2009, 05:42 PM
Immaculate Love


Chapter – One
In the Making of an Ecdysiast

Meara was heading home from the divine well where she finished her evening prayers. She was a young girl trying to understand the turbulent time befallen on her Celtic tribe. The power struggle between Eoghanacht and Connachta tribes forced her ancestors to keep moving south in search for peace. Her village was just beyond the southern fence of a ring of mountains that surrounded what would become Ireland. Her village was so far away from the north that even the most ambitious of the warrior kings left it alone. It simply was not worth it. But it was not completely serene. There were always fights over cattle and land that spilled over to her world. But the latest story of massacre in the neighboring village of Glaise over cattle frightened her. This deepened her dependency on the divine well she worshipped every evening before going to bed. It is from this well where the name of her village Tobar derives from. She believed the well would protect her against all the evil forces. This faith was reinforced by the relative calm and peace in Tobar.

Tobar was a beautiful village, on a low plain in the southern tip of Celtic land. Inhabitants of Tobar and all the tribes under Eoghanacht were the early Celtic settlers who never accepted the authority of Connachta over the entire island no matter how vigorously it was claimed by Connachta. The village derived its livelihood from goat and sheep farming. Meara’s father and mother ran a small goat and sheep farm. She started to help her mother and father with the farming work, as she grew older. Her father always wished he had a son who would help him look after the goats and sheep on grazing trips because the work was too harsh for a girl like Meara.

Meara was an only child for some strange twist of destiny; her mother was unable to conceive again after the birth of Meara. At the tender age of sixteen, Meara had become an accomplished woman mastering all essential skills one would expect from a woman. She was a fabulous cook. She knew how to make cheese. She knew how to shave sheep. She drew admiration and envy from other parents who wished their daughters were like Meara.

Meara was one in a million. She walked like a gentle ocean wave; there was a rhythm of nonchalant. Her voice was soothing as if it were emanating from a cruitire. Her green eyes were mesmerizing and deep like a lake; they had become a matter of gossip throughout Tobar for possessing magical capabilities. She often laughed at those rumors. Her dark wavy hair rivaled the beauty of the picturesque clouds looming over the mountains. Even the sons of Druids could not resist this beauty of a farmer’s daughter. She was poised to become a woman for whom everything was working even amidst turbulent times.

She reached home and helped her mother with chores. She greeted her father with joy when he got back from the grazing trip and then went to bed with a deep faith that the well would keep her, her family and the entire village of Tobar safe from all the evils of the world.

Chapter - Two
The Jackals

Sethos epitomized what average Spartans had become; he was living for himself and not for the state. Sparta’s glorious spell of military victories were a thing of past now. Messeneans were able to break away from Sparta, which resulted in loss of immense agricultural and slave resources for them. When Alexander was building his army to embark on campaign to conquer the world, Sparta offered no troops such dire was the moral of Spartan military.

Sethos had abandoned Sparta and moved to Crete, an island province, which had become a melting pot for major known civilizations at that time. Humans were major resources and were bought and sold by both Romans and Greeks on all major ports in Crete.

Sethos was interested in only one kind of slave trade, stealing women and selling them for profit. This had become his specialty. It was a dangerous job and there had been many times when things had gone wry. Sethos learned from those crises and emerged a better hunter each time.

He had built a small palace for himself on a secluded coast not too far from Konossos. This was his base from where he planned his expeditions. A small band of armed militia, which he raised, lived in the quarters nearby. These men were hand picked by Sethos for their greed, lust and fighting skills. Sethos was in it for money too but more than money, he truly enjoyed the hunt.

Recently he purchased a map from a shady character he met in a tavern in Sardis. This character claimed he had a map for a mystic land called Hibernia. It was scarcely populated and weakly defended if you could cross the rugged terrain. Sethos had doubts in his mind because he had never heard of such a land but he was smart enough to know that there was much more world out there than what was known to Greeks and Romans. The man also provided Sethos with a complete directional map to this mysterious land called Hibernia. The route was long consisting of a combination of sea voyages and land journeys. The businessman in him was not too excited about undertaking this expedition because the profit to risk factor was not in his favor; there were simply too many variables. But the adventurer in him was getting restless at the idea of exploring this mysterious land for bounties.

Finally, the adventurer in him won. He summoned his servant to go and fetch Nikon, the lokhagos (captain) of his armed militia. Sethos had raised a very well organized militia, divided into four groups, each group consisting of about twenty-five men. Nikon and Sethos had done several expeditions together. They understood very well the nature of the men they were commanding. These men were not fighting for glory or honor. They were fighting for lust and greed. Nikon had done an excellent job in keeping the tab on these men.

Sethos' servant led Nikon into the planning room. On the desk was the map of Hibernia along with the sketched route.


Chapter – Three
Ambition is Noble

“Your majesty, the mission was a success. Your father has been eliminated. The entire Macedon army pledges its allegiance to you. We will secure the approval of noblemen by tomorrow.”

Alexander showed no emotion upon hearing this news. He was already prepared for this reality and the assassination was merely a formality. He turned towards Seleucus and asked, “What about my men who went on the mission?”

“Pausanias was killed so were Perdiccas and Leonnatus. I am sorry your majesty but the mission came at a heavy price.”

Alexander felt an emotion of regret because he had known them for a very long time; they were his friends. Pausanias was personally responsible for safeguarding his personal safety and now he was gone. But this was not the time for emotions.

“Seleucus, I want you to find and execute Amyntas. I want Cleopatra and Europa burned alive in accordance with my mother’s wishes. Also, Attalus must not be left alive at any cost. This man is way too dangerous.”

“I am on my way.” Seleucus exited bearing a look of mission on his face.

Alexander felt exhausted after Seleucus left the room. He approached the wine jar and poured himself some Persian wine. He was a king of Macedon at the age of twenty. No ordinary man could contemplate assassinating his own father and drink wine afterward but he was no ordinary man. He was an ambitious man. He recalled Aristotle teaching him at the temple of Mieza that the ambition in itself was the noblest thing a man could possess and that all young men should be ambitious.

This was just the beginning of his ambition. He had the map of entire known world in front of him. He thought to himself, “After consolidating the power, I will take Syria, then Egypt, then Persia and then India.”

He smiled to himself, “And of course all the things in between them. This world will be mine.”

This had never been done before but there is always the first time to everything. He said to self, “How hard can it be?”

He had no desire in the luxuries he could have in the confines of Macedon. He would rather spend all his life in the battlefield chasing his dream than to sit in the comfort of his palace. Even the death would be noble if it came in the battlefield. He was dead sure what he wanted; he wanted the world.

As his commanders were busy carrying out his orders to secure his claim to the throne, he was deeply lost in his thoughts planning his future campaigns.

Chapter – Four
The Route

The room’s corridor was directly facing the beautiful Mediterranean ocean. There was a round table at the center of the room encircled by six chairs; Sethos, Nikon and four other men occupied those chairs.

“Yesterday, I had an in depth discussion with Nikon regarding our upcoming expedition to an unexplored land called Hibernia. After considering arguments for and against the expedition, I have decided to go forth with it.” Sethos paused briefly and then continued, “We will set sail from Konossos towards the Sarausa. We will stop there if necessary or else we will continue towards Sardegna. We have to be very careful until we reach Sardegna. According to my information Carthage navy has approximately three hundred warships that patrol between a triangle of Sardegna, Sarausa and Carthage. It seems like they are preparing for a war with Greeks.” Sethos paused to drink some water.

“Should we co-ordinate our sail so that we leave Sarausa in the early evening to avoid detection by Carthage navy?” This question demonstrated Zosimos’ eagerness to prove his ability to Sethos because there really was no other option but to try to cross as much of the danger zone as possible in the dark. Any contact with Carthage navy would be fatal for the mission and the crews.

But Sethos showed no annoyance at Zosimos and said, “Absolutely.” Sethos continued, “Once again, we may or may not stop at Sardegna. But, we will remain within the critical distance of the coastline, in case we have to stop there. It is pretty routine business. Once we are beyond Sardegna, we should have nothing to worry about as far as Carthage navy is concerned.”

Sethos leaned over the map and pointed to a narrow pass between northern and southern coastlines. “We will pass through this narrow strait then we will turn right and head towards this port.” He pointed at a port near Hispalis on the map and continued, “Once we leave Hispalis, we will head in the general direction of north keeping close proximity with the Hispalis coast lines and this is where we will end up.” He was pointing at the southern tip of Hibernia.

Sethos and Nikon took turns in going over several technicalities with the ypolochagoi (lieutenants). The entire expedition plan was analyzed thoroughly, this included appropriate longitudes and latitudes along with littoral point of references.

“Once the preparations are complete, we will set sail.” Sethos indicated the end of the briefing with those remarks.

Chapter – Five
The Contact

It seemed like goddess Tyche had her blessing upon Sethos and his mission. They were able to cross the strait without getting detected by Carthage navy and now they were skirmishing the southern coastlines of Hibernia for a suitable place to dock. Sethos was in the navigation cabin along with his crews trying to find a perfect place on the coast where ships could be camouflaged. Goddess Tyche indeed had all her attention on Sethos today; he was able to spot a “V” shaped cliff where he could hide his ships.

Sethos was one of the last breeds of Spartans who had fortune of attending Sparta’s state of the art military academy before it disintegrated; it showed in his planning and execution of the expedition. Their exploitation of littoral point of references to reach the destination was remarkable. He created a small detachment to guard the ships and handed the command to Zosimos. Of course, Zosimos was not very happy with the assignment because he considered this assignment beneath him but he did not have much say in it.

“Stay put and guard those ships at all cost. Make sure to put sentries at those high points and send out routine patrols in all three land directions.” Sethos shouted some routine precautions of which Zosimos as a trained ypolochagoi was already aware of but these ships were Sethos’ lifelines to the civilized world and he did not want to leave out any contingency plans.

Sethos and Nikon were highly skilled surveyors and both of them had some valuable expedition experiences under their belts. They divided the team in two surveying parties, one lead by Nikon and another by Sethos. They parted after confirming linkup schedule and communication protocols with each other and the base, Zosimos’ detachment.

On the scheduled time and predetermined place, Nikon and Sethos linked up with each other. Both teams gathered critical cartographical data during the surveying mission. Also an “all ok” message was exchanged with the base. It was time to identify an ideal path to cross the mountains. The observation of ridges so far revealed a manageable if not an easy mountain pass to the other side. Sethos avoided landing on the western coast of Hibernia for its extreme ruggedness as warned by the shady character he met in Sardis.

“This looks like our path to fortune. What do you think Nikon?”

“I think you are right Sethos.”

The unknown land in front of them was there to be explored; it was rugged and challenging. So, the precious little logistics had to be planned very skillfully. They were looking at the mountain, the only thing that stood between them and the bounties.

****************************

Chapter - Six @ Post #96

verfolgung
08-01-2009, 07:44 PM
Just an editorial. I'll keep my criticisms to myself. :-X


Immaculate Love


Chapter – One
In the Making of an Ecdysiast

Meara was heading home from the divine well where she finished her evening prayers. She was a young girl trying to understand the turbulent time befallen on her Celtic tribe. The power struggle between Eoghanacht and Connachta tribes forced her ancestors to keep moving south in search for peace. Her village was just beyond the southern fence of a ring of mountains that surrounded what would(?) become Ireland*. Her village was so far away from the north that even the most ambitious of the warrior kings left it alone. It simply was not worth it. But it was not completely serene. There were always fights over cattle and land that spilled over to her world. But the latest story of massacre in the neighboring village of Glaise over cattle frightened her. This deepened her dependency on the divine well she worshipped every evening before going to bed. It is from this well where the name of her village, Tobar, derives from. She believed the well would protect her against all the evil forces. This faith was reinforced by the relative calm and peace in Tobar.

Tobar was a beautiful village, on a low plain in the southern tip of Celtic land. Inhabitants of Tobar and all the tribes under Eoghanacht were the early Celtic settlers who never accepted the authority of Connachta over the entire island no matter how vigorously it was claimed by Connachta. The village derived its livelihood from goat and sheep farming. Meara’s father and mother ran a small goat and sheep farm. She started to help her mother and father with the farming work, as she grew older. Her father always wished he had a son who would help him look after the goats and sheep on grazing trips because the work was too harsh <delete> for a girl like Meara.

Meara was an only child for some strange twist of destiny; her mother was unable to conceive again after the birth of Meara. At the tender age of sixteen, Meara had become an accomplished woman mastering all essential skills one would expect from a woman. She was a fabulous cook. She knew how to make cheese. She knew how to shave sheep. She drew admiration and envy from other parents who wished their daughters were like Meara.

Meara was one in a million. She walked like a gentle ocean wave; there was a rhythm of nonchalant. Her voice was soothing as if it were emanating from a cruitire. Her green eyes were mesmerizing and deep like a lake; they had become a matter of gossip throughout Tobar for possessing magical capabilities. She often laughed at those rumors. Her dark wavy hair <delete> rivaled the beauty of the picturesque clouds looming over the mountains. Even the sons of Druids could not resist this beauty of a farmer’s daughter. She was poised to become a woman for whom everything was working even amidst turbulent times.

She reached home and helped her mother with chores. She greeted her father with <delete> joy when he got back from the grazing trip and then went to bed with a deep faith that the well would keep her, her family and the entire village of Tobar safe from all the evils of the world.

*Is then when the land was known as Ireland? Since it mentions tribes it may pre-date the medieval times when the land became known as the provinces of Ireland. During the time of tribal occupation the Romans referred to the land as Hibernia. -Just a thought.

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Chapter - Two is up. Verf, please feel free to proof read it. Thanks!

Stick to proof reading. You are much better at it than engaging in a debate. 8)

:finger:

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Cryril I regret to inform you that I am now reneging on my pledge to not offer criticism ...


Chapter - Three is up. Any volunteer to proof read it against typos and grammatical errors?

The problem is it is so much worse than just proof reading errors. You're writing technique is incredibly lacking. To be frank ... it sucks.

When you first posted chapter one there was a moment when I worried that you might be subjecting the site to copyright infrigement by not property siting the source of the text. That thought quickly passed the moment I glanced over the text and realized this was clearly not a serious piece of writing. In fact, when I initally promised not the criticise the work, it was because I was afraid I might offend a young relative (son/daughter, niece/nephew) that you might have posted the work for in order to receive feedback. Honestly, I would expect more out of a high school upper classman.

There are those who are more critical than others in terms of pointing out typos in informal writing such as what is mostly posted on this site and others like it. Personally, other than to provide an occasional hurmorous jab (like vmurphy above), I try not to be too critical. Heck my own posts are chock full of typos. However, in this case you're actually trying to produce a legitmate piece of writing. Yet it is full of typos, poor grammar, punctuation errors, tense errors, etc.

In addition, your style leaves so much to be desired. There is little feeling or emotion in your words. Your sentances are cold and repetitive, and reading them is like being subjected to repetitive water torture - drip, drip, drip, drip. It's like listening to a martching band instead of a symphony orchestra. Make sense?

Here is an example...


"Alexander felt exhausted after Seleucus left the room. He approached the wine jar and poured himself some Persian wine. He was a king of Macedon at the age of twenty. No ordinary man could contemplate assassinating his own father and drink wine afterward but he was no ordinary man. He was an ambitious man. He recalled Aristotle teaching him at the temple of Mieza that the ambition in itself was the noblest thing a man could possess and that all young men should be ambitious.

This was just the beginning of his ambition. He had the map of entire known world in front of him. He thought to himself, “After consolidating the power, I will take Syria, then Egypt, then Persia and then India.”

He smiled to himself, “And of course all the things in between them. This world will be mine.”
That's 6 out of 10 sentances started in the same way. This is only a few notches up from, "See spot run." How about trying to mix it up a bit? Also, do you have another synonym for "ambition"?

When I read these sentences, I see a person who is used to writing for techinical purposes, such as a business proposal or a "how to" manual, and then trying to write a work of literature. Story telling doesn't have to be A to B to C to D. Everything doesn't have to be spelled out so plainly.

You words are not painting pictures. They are not enlivening the senses. They do not feed ones emotions. Basically, they don't involve the reader. In fact, your need to constantly spell things out and repeat ideas is almost an insult to the intelligence of your audience.

Here is an example of solid writing skill...

http://forum.stripperweb.com/showthread.php?t=133627

It's a link to a short story by Paris. When one reads it, they can feel the pain, the hurt, the emotions. They can see the dirty apartment. The author invites the reader to become temporarily immersed in the story.

Please understand this is sincere constructive criticism. There is an obivous lack of response to your work so far, and my guess is it is because people are just not that impressed by it.

Please, before posting more chapters, work on your technique.

Cyril
08-01-2009, 08:22 PM
Just an editorial. I'll keep my criticisms to myself. :-X



*Is then when the land was known as Ireland? Since it mentions tribes it may pre-date the medieval times when the land became known as the provinces of Ireland. During the time of tribal occupation the Romans referred to the land as Hibernia. -Just a thought.

Thanks for proof reading!

I wanted to mention Ireland at least once so that readers can get an idea where the scene is taking place.

Cyril
08-02-2009, 01:54 AM
Chapter - Two is up. Verf, please feel free to proof read it. Thanks!

Cyril
08-02-2009, 09:14 AM
:finger:

You are bringing issues from another thread on to this thread. Come on for the sake of team SW, do the proof reading. :D

Cyril
08-04-2009, 09:02 PM
Chapter - Three is up. Any volunteer to proof read it against typos and grammatical errors?

mediocrity
08-05-2009, 01:17 AM
Lord I am in a good mood, so I have to say...

WTF kind of romance novel-esque trash is this?

mediocrity
08-05-2009, 01:18 AM
You are bringing issues from another thread on to this thread. Come on for the sake of team SW, do the proof reading. :D

For the sake of team SW, STFU? Please? I'll give you a hard candy like they do at the Grandfather Farm.

vmurphy252
08-05-2009, 06:01 AM
^Grandfathers are a crop?

mediocrity
08-05-2009, 11:27 AM
^Grandfathers are a crop?

It's from Scrubs. I'm trying to find the video for you. ;D

vmurphy252
08-05-2009, 12:15 PM
I remember it. The JD daydream where the grandfathers are in a dog pound type thing?

vmurphy252
08-05-2009, 12:15 PM
^He gives them hard candy as a treat...

mediocrity
08-05-2009, 08:25 PM
^He gives them hard candy as a treat...

Precisely it!;D

Cyril
08-05-2009, 10:47 PM
Chapter - Four is up. Wrote it under the influence of sleeping pills. Any proof reading volunteers will be greatly appreciated.

mediocrity
08-05-2009, 11:06 PM
In response to Verf about mental pictures, that's totally it. Transporting someone to the scene you are describing is essential.

Not to be a braggart, but I've been working on my own novel about two years. I'm not a professional writer, but here is an excerpt I shared in my public blong that I think fits the bill about creating atmosphere:

Atlanta, 2005.

It was a busy Friday night despite the thunderstorms. Patrons were running in, damp from the valet station, and those unlucky enough to wait in line outside did so until they could squeeze water out of their shirts.

Sometimes it baffles me, the conditions people will wait in to see nude girls.

Fortunately it was a warm rain, but it was a humid, sauna environment inside the club; our air conditioner had been pretty sketchy all week. The packed in wet bodies created an almost solid air atmosphere. I felt like I was walking around in warm, loud, dark fog. Despite it, people were jovial, the girls onstage didn’t hesitate to remove their clothes like we did most nights… we were thankful to run around in our bare skin, though our hair stuck to our foreheads and our makeup was running.

I had made a decent amount of money thus far into the night. It was around eleven in the evening, and prime hours still had yet to come. During dances customers fanned me with table tents, and for once I can say I was grateful for the gesture. My regulars had come in, all three of them in the same night. I looked around and smiled, thinking about the new television I was going to buy in the morning if all went well. I heard my name called, strutted up onto the stage, and then it happened.

The power went out.

Now this may not seem like a crisis in a home situation. You sit in the dark with your family, wait a couple of hours and the lights come back on, no big deal. But in the most popular strip club in a major city, this is a huge problem. No lights. No music. No kitchen. No DJ to announce when we are next. No blow dryers, no straightening irons, no mirror lights. A huge “Awwwww!” went out across the crowd. In short, we were fucked.

I stood there, not knowing what to do. Should I keep moving, should I stop? Should I sit down? Having been in plenty of awkward positions, but never something like this, I had no clue what to do.

After a few minutes, several other girls came up on stage to keep me company. We sat in a circle, talking to the patrons. Ironically, they continue to tip us. I think in some way, they found it amusing, the group of naked girls sitting on a stage in the dark. I can’t say as I disagree with them. You would think people would have left, but truthfully, not many did.

Suddenly my manager runs up to the stage with a huge box in his hands.

“Here girls, line the stage, we’re going to make this work. Hurry up, ok?”

The box was full of candles.

We lined our forty foot runway stage with candles and lit them one by one. With four or five of us working, it didn’t take long. The customers cheered in approval as our DJ came up and sat at the foot of our stage with a guitar.

For the next two hours, girls danced by candlelight to acoustic music our DJ played with his guitar. The whole thing was beautiful, the light dancing of the girls’ curves. The customers were remarkable quiet, and those of us not onstage continued to go about the room selling dances, which proved to be astonishingly easy. The whole evening was relaxed and felt like such a treat; no booming music and people screaming over the normal din. Even the balmy Southern air felt soothing instead of stifling.

I was almost sad when the lights came back on. To this day years later, it is one of my fondest memories of this particular club. We were like a family always, but this night proved it to me over and over beyond a reasonable doubt.

I made $1500 that night without trying.

It is days like that which remind me that, sometimes, I love what I do.

Gia2608
08-05-2009, 11:27 PM
Is Immaculate Love required summer reading for dream girls dancers?

mediocrity
08-06-2009, 12:06 AM
Immaculate Love: Chapter One Re-Write:
Chapter – One
In the Making of an Ecdysiast

Meara couldn't seem to wrap her thoughts around it as she walked home from the divine well after evening prayers that evening; she never thought there would be such turmoil between the people of her normally peaceful land. Recently, the conflict between the Eoghanacht and Connachta clans had been so violent and unmerciful, her family had been forced to move south in order to escape the inpending chaos. The new village, sourrounded by majestic mountains and bathed in a sea of green, was so far away that even the most ambitious of the warriors had not attempted to follow; or so her father hoped. The terrain had been diffucult to manuever and cross safely, but her family had established confidence in their little enclave, despite domestic disputes over cattle and land in the small town.

However, their small bickering had paled in comparison to the latest story of massacre in the neighboring village of Glaise. However, this only served to deepen Meara's faith... she worshipped every evening before going to bed, at least. She believed that her alliegance to the divine well could evelope them insafety. After all, it was the well itself that the villiage, Tobar, was named after. T

Tobar was a beautiful village, on a low plain in the southern tip of Celtic land. Inhabitants of Tobar and all the tribes under Eoghanacht were the early Celtic settlers who never accepted the authority of Connachta over the entire island no matter how vigorously it was claimed by Connachta. The village was beautiful, yet modest; most of it's livelihood was derived from goat and sheep farming. Meara’s father and mother were no exception, and ran a small, yet profitable, goat and sheep farm. Just recently she had been given some of the responsibilities on the farm to help her mother and father. Even though her father always lamented he had no son, he secretly admired the workload Meara could manage, as well as er enthusiasm for the tasks.

Meara was an only child for some strange twist of destiny; her mother was unable to conceive again after her birth. By sixteen she was already accomplished in most all of the domestic abilities; her mother prided in her ability to learn quickly and think on her feet. Now, she had a great knowledge of everything from farming, how to turn their creamy fresh dairy milk into cheese for market, as well as how to be business-minded. To the delight of her parents, Meara often drew admiration and envy from other parents who wished their own daughters were so agreeable and clever.

Not only was Meara quick minded, the boys in her villiage often whispered about her beauty. Her walk was as confident and soothing as a gentle ocean wave; powerful, yet gentle all the same. She had a beautiful soft, soothing voice, and the men would crane their heads as she passed by, hoping to catch just one note of her humming as she went about her daily business. The girls in the village were full of indignance and jealousy; they had begun to say she was a witch due her deep, sparkling, jade coloured eyes. However, she often laughed the rumours off as silliness.

Her dark wavy hair billowed out in the breeze that came over the mountains, emulating the storm clouds that would come in off of the ocean some afternoons. Even the sons of Druids could not resist this beauty of a farmer’s daughter. Even amidst the trials and tribulatons at hand, Meara had her faith as a pillar of strength for herself, as well as her family.

When she reached home, she greeted her mother gaily and began the evening chores. Several hours later, her father came home from the daily grazing trip. meara squealed with glee and ran into his arms. The old man chuckled, and as always, for a moment, forgot about the son he never had.

At bedtime, she silently moved her lips again before crawling into bed with a deep satisfaction that, nothing, not even the murderous clans that still sought them out, could ever penetrate the fortress of her faith.

JayATee
08-06-2009, 12:47 AM
Chapter - Four is up. Wrote it under the influence of sleeping pills. Any proof reading volunteers will be greatly appreciated.

You don't know how to listen do you? You must've missed that day of kindergaten. That's sad.

Cyril
08-06-2009, 07:02 PM
Is Immaculate Love required summer reading for dream girls dancers?

This should be a required reading for all the strippers across the globe.

I am attempting to construct a tale of immaculate love, which thrives amidst greed and lust. It is the story of a stripper who falls for a PL. She had attention of kings and great kings but she falls for a mere PL who happens to be an ex nobleman fallen from his grace. He finds solace in her deep green eyes and dark wavy hair. She discovers there is one more chance for her to feel like a woman in the arms of this PL. It is truly a great story, a must read for all the strippers and PLs.

It gives hope to a bleak heart.

Cyril
08-06-2009, 07:05 PM
You don't know how to listen do you? You must've missed that day of kindergaten. That's sad.

We have all missed a class or two in the kindergarten. What is a big deal?

If you are feeling that sad then I suggest you ask your doctor if the Prozac is right for you.

Why don't you just read and enjoy the beautiful love story? After all we can all agree on one thing - LOVE.

Cyril
08-06-2009, 07:06 PM
Immaculate Love: Chapter One Re-Write:
Chapter – One
In the Making of an Ecdysiast

Meara couldn't seem to wrap her thoughts around it as she walked home from the divine well after evening prayers that evening; she never thought there would be such turmoil between the people of her normally peaceful land. Recently, the conflict between the Eoghanacht and Connachta clans had been so violent and unmerciful, her family had been forced to move south in order to escape the inpending chaos. The new village, sourrounded by majestic mountains and bathed in a sea of green, was so far away that even the most ambitious of the warriors had not attempted to follow; or so her father hoped. The terrain had been diffucult to manuever and cross safely, but her family had established confidence in their little enclave, despite domestic disputes over cattle and land in the small town.

However, their small bickering had paled in comparison to the latest story of massacre in the neighboring village of Glaise. However, this only served to deepen Meara's faith... she worshipped every evening before going to bed, at least. She believed that her alliegance to the divine well could evelope them insafety. After all, it was the well itself that the villiage, Tobar, was named after. T

Tobar was a beautiful village, on a low plain in the southern tip of Celtic land. Inhabitants of Tobar and all the tribes under Eoghanacht were the early Celtic settlers who never accepted the authority of Connachta over the entire island no matter how vigorously it was claimed by Connachta. The village was beautiful, yet modest; most of it's livelihood was derived from goat and sheep farming. Meara’s father and mother were no exception, and ran a small, yet profitable, goat and sheep farm. Just recently she had been given some of the responsibilities on the farm to help her mother and father. Even though her father always lamented he had no son, he secretly admired the workload Meara could manage, as well as er enthusiasm for the tasks.

Meara was an only child for some strange twist of destiny; her mother was unable to conceive again after her birth. By sixteen she was already accomplished in most all of the domestic abilities; her mother prided in her ability to learn quickly and think on her feet. Now, she had a great knowledge of everything from farming, how to turn their creamy fresh dairy milk into cheese for market, as well as how to be business-minded. To the delight of her parents, Meara often drew admiration and envy from other parents who wished their own daughters were so agreeable and clever.

Not only was Meara quick minded, the boys in her villiage often whispered about her beauty. Her walk was as confident and soothing as a gentle ocean wave; powerful, yet gentle all the same. She had a beautiful soft, soothing voice, and the men would crane their heads as she passed by, hoping to catch just one note of her humming as she went about her daily business. The girls in the village were full of indignance and jealousy; they had begun to say she was a witch due her deep, sparkling, jade coloured eyes. However, she often laughed the rumours off as silliness.

Her dark wavy hair billowed out in the breeze that came over the mountains, emulating the storm clouds that would come in off of the ocean some afternoons. Even the sons of Druids could not resist this beauty of a farmer’s daughter. Even amidst the trials and tribulatons at hand, Meara had her faith as a pillar of strength for herself, as well as her family.

When she reached home, she greeted her mother gaily and began the evening chores. Several hours later, her father came home from the daily grazing trip. meara squealed with glee and ran into his arms. The old man chuckled, and as always, for a moment, forgot about the son he never had.

At bedtime, she silently moved her lips again before crawling into bed with a deep satisfaction that, nothing, not even the murderous clans that still sought them out, could ever penetrate the fortress of her faith.

That reads like a cheap copy of the original work.

mediocrity
08-06-2009, 07:15 PM
^^ I'd say that's up for debate.

Cyril
08-06-2009, 07:22 PM
^^ I'd say that's up for debate.

If you really want to be constructive towards this thread, I can use a second pair of eyes, please proof read Chapter - Four. Thanks!

Elvia
08-06-2009, 07:43 PM
Why would you post this if you don't want honest feedback?

Cyril
08-06-2009, 08:23 PM
Why would you post this if you don't want honest feedback?

I was hoping to get the fifth chapter out this evening but looks like it is not going to happen anytime today.

Well, go ahead and give your honest feedback to me. I like honest feed backs. However, please keep in mind honest feedback does not equate to being rude. Thanks!

xdamage
08-06-2009, 08:38 PM
Seems like a lot of people want to be writers. It's probably good self therapy but we live in a world where we have easy access to so many books and other written material, and we've been exposed to some amazing writers. The downside for amateurs then is you'll be compared to the best and like any other artistic matter, there is some training involved and also some raw talent.

Plus you've got a tough crowd here not exactly having taken time out to be sympathetic to seeing things from the female/dancers perspectives in other matters.

And also just a thought but people don't like to be given orders or assigned duties. Seems like you were giving people assignments in the dream girls thread and now in this one.. they aren't here to do work items for you.

Cyril
08-06-2009, 08:53 PM
In response to Verf about mental pictures, that's totally it. Transporting someone to the scene you are describing is essential.

Not to be a braggart, but I've been working on my own novel about two years. I'm not a professional writer, but here is an excerpt I shared in my public blong that I think fits the bill about creating atmosphere:

Atlanta, 2005.

It was a busy Friday night despite the thunderstorms. Patrons were running in, damp from the valet station, and those unlucky enough to wait in line outside did so until they could squeeze water out of their shirts.

Sometimes it baffles me, the conditions people will wait in to see nude girls.

Fortunately it was a warm rain, but it was a humid, sauna environment inside the club; our air conditioner had been pretty sketchy all week. The packed in wet bodies created an almost solid air atmosphere. I felt like I was walking around in warm, loud, dark fog. Despite it, people were jovial, the girls onstage didn’t hesitate to remove their clothes like we did most nights… we were thankful to run around in our bare skin, though our hair stuck to our foreheads and our makeup was running.

I had made a decent amount of money thus far into the night. It was around eleven in the evening, and prime hours still had yet to come. During dances customers fanned me with table tents, and for once I can say I was grateful for the gesture. My regulars had come in, all three of them in the same night. I looked around and smiled, thinking about the new television I was going to buy in the morning if all went well. I heard my name called, strutted up onto the stage, and then it happened.

The power went out.

Now this may not seem like a crisis in a home situation. You sit in the dark with your family, wait a couple of hours and the lights come back on, no big deal. But in the most popular strip club in a major city, this is a huge problem. No lights. No music. No kitchen. No DJ to announce when we are next. No blow dryers, no straightening irons, no mirror lights. A huge “Awwwww!” went out across the crowd. In short, we were fucked.

I stood there, not knowing what to do. Should I keep moving, should I stop? Should I sit down? Having been in plenty of awkward positions, but never something like this, I had no clue what to do.

After a few minutes, several other girls came up on stage to keep me company. We sat in a circle, talking to the patrons. Ironically, they continue to tip us. I think in some way, they found it amusing, the group of naked girls sitting on a stage in the dark. I can’t say as I disagree with them. You would think people would have left, but truthfully, not many did.

Suddenly my manager runs up to the stage with a huge box in his hands.

“Here girls, line the stage, we’re going to make this work. Hurry up, ok?”

The box was full of candles.

We lined our forty foot runway stage with candles and lit them one by one. With four or five of us working, it didn’t take long. The customers cheered in approval as our DJ came up and sat at the foot of our stage with a guitar.

For the next two hours, girls danced by candlelight to acoustic music our DJ played with his guitar. The whole thing was beautiful, the light dancing of the girls’ curves. The customers were remarkable quiet, and those of us not onstage continued to go about the room selling dances, which proved to be astonishingly easy. The whole evening was relaxed and felt like such a treat; no booming music and people screaming over the normal din. Even the balmy Southern air felt soothing instead of stifling.

I was almost sad when the lights came back on. To this day years later, it is one of my fondest memories of this particular club. We were like a family always, but this night proved it to me over and over beyond a reasonable doubt.

I made $1500 that night without trying.

It is days like that which remind me that, sometimes, I love what I do.

There are following problems with this excerpt from your novel:

- It reads like a memoir
- It takes up too long and yet yields nothing tangible in terms of the storyline
- It does not have clearly defined objective

One of the mistakes people make is they think lots of words equals a good novel. That assumption is dead wrong. You have to realize that people may get bored reading lots of useless information they do not care about unless you write like Hermann Hesse.

In contrast with your writing style, mine has following positive attributes:

- Short and to the point. Well suited for people who have limited amount of time at hand to indulge in reading a novel
- Each chapter in Immaculate Love has well defined objective, e.g., the first chapter introduces you to Meara, the second chapter introduces you to Sethos, the third chapter gives you an idea about the time landmark and the fourth chapter gives you the detail account of the route Sethos will take to reach Meara. You do not even have to consult a globe; it is so detailed.

xdamage
08-06-2009, 09:15 PM
One of the mistakes people make is they think lots of words equals a good novel. That assumption is dead wrong. You have to realize that people may get bored reading lots of useless information they do not care about unless you write like Hermann Hesse.


Partially true. They also grow bored with novels that lack emotion and are mostly just a bunch of facts with half hearted attempts to appear emotional in between the dumping of facts. Her story had me emotionally involved, wondering what comes next. Yours I couldn't read. I was bored. Honest opinion, nothing personal. I felt it was just a lot of words, and my mind didn't immediately feel there was anything of interest in it for me. I don't care about your key character because she is lifeless. There is another level to writing I have no skill in but I can sense it when I see it.

Cyril
08-06-2009, 09:15 PM
And also just a thought but people don't like to be given orders or assigned duties. Seems like you were giving people assignments in the dream girls thread and now in this one.. they aren't here to do work items for you.

Well...............

Cyril
08-06-2009, 09:17 PM
Partially true. They also grow bored with novels that lack emotion and are mostly just a bunch of facts with half hearted attempts to appear emotional in between the dumping of facts. Her story had me emotionally involved, wondering what comes next. Yours I couldn't read. I was bored. Honest opinion, nothing personal. I felt it was just a lot of words, and my mind didn't immediately feel there was anything of interest in it for me. I don't care about your key character because she is lifeless. There is another level to writing I have no skill in but I can sense it when I see it.

Just an FYI, racy stuff will come soon so tune in later.

xdamage
08-06-2009, 09:47 PM
Just an FYI, racy stuff will come soon so tune in later.

racy won't save it for me ... but I love books and stories where we don't get a 30,000 foot view of what is going on, but rather the world unfolds seeing it through the eyes of the main character(s). Assuming there is something(s) to like about these characters, that gets me involved. I can fill in the big picture in my own mind, and if you have a vision about the big picture, your talent as a writer will reveal it to me indirectly, allowing me to have the same emotional sense of wonder you feel about it.

Cyril
08-06-2009, 09:59 PM
racy won't save it for me ... but I love books and stories where we don't get a 30,000 foot view of what is going on, but rather the world unfolds seeing it through the eyes of the main character(s). Assuming there is something(s) to like about these characters, that gets me involved. I can fill in the big picture in my own mind, and if you have a vision about the big picture, your talent as a writer will reveal it to me indirectly, allowing me to have the same emotional sense of wonder you feel about it.

This paragraph of yours clearly demonstrates a lack of understanding on your part as far as limitations of conveying human emotions is concerned. No one can ever truly convey to others how he truly feels. Have you read "Music at Night? If not, my suggestion would be to grab a copy from a library or internet and read it.

Anyone who puts unrealistic emphasis on communicating human emotions is setting himself up for a disappointment. The task is impossible.

xdamage
08-06-2009, 10:19 PM
This paragraph of yours clearly demonstrates a lack of understanding on your part as far as limitations of conveying human emotions is concerned. No one can ever truly convey to others how he truly feels. Have you read "Music at Night? If not, my suggestion would be to grab a copy from a library or internet and read it.

Anyone who puts unrealistic emphasis on communicating human emotions is setting himself up for a disappointment. The task is impossible.

Huh?

You're making a black and white argument.

I didn't tell you to communicate to me 100% exactly what feelings you imagined or give up entirely.

There is a gray area in the middle where artists try and succeed to varying degrees. On that gray scale your story scored poorly for me.

Besides we are all far more alike then different. Our genetic codes nearly identical except for very tiny minor variations. Our life experiences somewhat different, but again, also we experience a tremendous amount in common. And we have endless day to day dealings with each other where we learn how our own emotional experiences are so much like others, and how they differ too. That's the core of communication. Nobody says "well i can't communicate my feelings perfectly so I just give up entirely".

mediocrity
08-06-2009, 11:20 PM
There are following problems with this excerpt from your novel:

- It reads like a memoir
- It takes up too long and yet yields nothing tangible in terms of the storyline
- It does not have clearly defined objective

One of the mistakes people make is they think lots of words equals a good novel. That assumption is dead wrong. You have to realize that people may get bored reading lots of useless information they do not care about unless you write like Hermann Hesse.

In contrast with your writing style, mine has following positive attributes:

- Short and to the point. Well suited for people who have limited amount of time at hand to indulge in reading a novel
- Each chapter in Immaculate Love has well defined objective, e.g., the first chapter introduces you to Meara, the second chapter introduces you to Sethos, the third chapter gives you an idea about the time landmark and the fourth chapter gives you the detail account of the route Sethos will take to reach Meara. You do not even have to consult a globe; it is so detailed.

It IS a memoir of my own personal experiences. Not a linear novel, it's a collection of anecdotes and emotion of how it truly is to be in a dancer's line of work. It isn't meant to be methodical or even have a main storyline. It's about evoking emotion and transporting people into my world, just for a little while.

Your writing style strikes me as very cold and impersonal, honestly.

goreantx
08-07-2009, 12:36 AM
I tried to read the original post with the chapters. I agree with many of the reply posts that the grammar is unpolished. For instance, you can't start a sentence with "But". I recommend going to a college bookstore and purchasing a grammar textbook. Also, the sentences seem choppy. I can't follow the flow of your story because of the grammar. I want to see it when you've edited the grammar; I feel that is the only fair way I can critique your work.

JayATee
08-07-2009, 02:17 AM
I was hoping to get the fifth chapter out this evening but looks like it is not going to happen anytime today.

Well, go ahead and give your honest feedback to me. I like honest feed backs. However, please keep in mind honest feedback does not equate to being rude. Thanks!


LoL. You like honest feedback as long as you don't have to LISTEN to any of it so you can continue to live in your little dream world. Prozac? You need something a lot stronger than that.

I still have no idea why you or your threads are tolerated here.


It IS a memoir of my own personal experiences. Not a linear novel, it's a collection of anecdotes and emotion of how it truly is to be in a dancer's line of work. It isn't meant to be methodical or even have a main storyline. It's about evoking emotion and transporting people into my world, just for a little while.



Your writing style strikes me as very cold and impersonal, honestly.


Careful honey, speak slowly and use small words so that he might have a better chance at understanding you.

xdamage
08-07-2009, 05:08 AM
FWIW Cyril I've told my kids for a long time, most movies for me succeed or fail based on one simple point. Is there at least one character that I care about? Perhaps I've overly impressed them with this PoV, but they now being a bit older say the same, movies FAIL because there was not one character we secretly cheer for on some level. Drama, action, detail, comedy, you can spend hunderds of millions and still end up with a Waterworld. Everything technically correct, but no emotional connection made.

verfolgung
08-07-2009, 08:31 AM
That reads like a cheap copy of the original work.

Well to be honest, she wasn't given a heck of a lot to work with.



... I am attempting to construct a tale of immaculate love, which thrives amidst greed and lust. . ...

FAIL!

verfolgung
08-07-2009, 08:48 AM
... One of the mistakes people make is they think lots of words equals a good novel. That assumption is dead wrong. You have to realize that people may get bored reading lots of useless information they do not care about unless you write like Hermann Hesse. ...

One of my favorite lessons in writing comes from Strunk & White's: Elements of Style: "Omit needless words! Omit needless words! Omit needless words!"

You're right, more words does not necessarily equal better writing; however, using less words does not mean the writing needs to be lacking. You're own short scripts are FULL of needless words and repetitive themes, which could be both shortened AND improved. Using the same word over and over is neither creative, immaginative or efficient.

One thing you have suceeded at is that you've managed to bore people quickly - congrats.

You asked for feedback, and you've been given some. Yet you've not made use of any of it. Rather, you appear to be your own favorite critic. It must be easy to meet such low standards.

xdamage
08-07-2009, 11:47 AM
I think it fine to want to try to write and admire people who have an interest. Just it is difficult when it comes time to ask for honest criticism. My shelves at home are stacked with books and I love reading but out of those books, only a few of the fictions really are memorable. So much else I finished because I had already paid for it and arguably shouldn't have wasted my time on.

Also I'm guessing most people don't want to contribute to a lets-write-a-make-believe novel on line anymore then they did a lets-build-a-make-believe-business because frankly, it's too much like work for them, and the benefits would be what? The OP receives credit? What would they get out of it?

mediocrity
08-07-2009, 01:32 PM
I'm also curious how it's a story about a "stripper" and a "PL". Last I checked, strippers down pray at wells and flee murderous clans with thier parents to raise sheep and goats? Main character seems pretty religious. Guy lead is an "ambitious" (as we were told 83748328 times by the overuse of the word ambition) quasi-nobleman whom has plans to coquer foreign lands.

No strip club, dances, no money exchanged.. how is this a story about a dancer and a customer as opposed to a run of the mill romance novella?

Elvia
08-07-2009, 06:14 PM
^^ I was wondering that as well.

Cyril
08-08-2009, 02:02 AM
I tried to read the original post with the chapters. I agree with many of the reply posts that the grammar is unpolished. For instance, you can't start a sentence with "But". I recommend going to a college bookstore and purchasing a grammar textbook. Also, the sentences seem choppy. I can't follow the flow of your story because of the grammar. I want to see it when you've edited the grammar; I feel that is the only fair way I can critique your work.

There is a trend among modernist writers to start sentences with "But". It is a writing style. Please look it up.

Cyril
08-08-2009, 02:05 AM
I'm also curious how it's a story about a "stripper" and a "PL". Last I checked, strippers down pray at wells and flee murderous clans with thier parents to raise sheep and goats? Main character seems pretty religious. Guy lead is an "ambitious" (as we were told 83748328 times by the overuse of the word ambition) quasi-nobleman whom has plans to coquer foreign lands.

No strip club, dances, no money exchanged.. how is this a story about a dancer and a customer as opposed to a run of the mill romance novella?

Your entire post was simply an account of wrong conjectures about Immaculate Love. Are you even trying to understand what is happening?

Cyril
08-08-2009, 02:09 AM
FWIW Cyril I've told my kids for a long time, most movies for me succeed or fail based on one simple point. Is there at least one character that I care about? Perhaps I've overly impressed them with this PoV, but they now being a bit older say the same, movies FAIL because there was not one character we secretly cheer for on some level. Drama, action, detail, comedy, you can spend hunderds of millions and still end up with a Waterworld. Everything technically correct, but no emotional connection made.

All you are doing is affirming the subjective nature of people's taste. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Why do I say that? It is because I have met quite a few people who liked Water World.

Cyril
08-08-2009, 02:20 AM
One of my favorite lessons in writing comes from Strunk & White's: Elements of Style: "Omit needless words! Omit needless words! Omit needless words!"

You're right, more words does not necessarily equal better writing; however, using less words does not mean the writing needs to be lacking. You're own short scripts are FULL of needless words and repetitive themes, which could be both shortened AND improved. Using the same word over and over is neither creative, immaginative or efficient.

One thing you have suceeded at is that you've managed to bore people quickly - congrats.

You asked for feedback, and you've been given some. Yet you've not made use of any of it. Rather, you appear to be your own favorite critic. It must be easy to meet such low standards.

I have to say your criticism is fair.

I made several mistakes and I will outline them here:

- I usually write using short sentences but in my attempt to be artistic I tried resorting to long sentences and I messed up punctuations big time
- I introduced Alexander for the sole purpose of historical landmarks so I did not invest enough creativity in making chapter-three a bit more interesting for the readers

I am satisfied with chapter one, two and four; of course they may require some proof reading.

I am not interested in who can piss further contest. So, if I find any useful information in anyone's post, I will grab it or else I will ignore it.

xdamage
08-08-2009, 02:29 AM
All you are doing is affirming the subjective nature of people's taste. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Why do I say that? It is because I have met quite a few people who liked Water World.

Fair enough. But if your goal is to be at least as good as Waterworld, then it goes with the territory that you'll receive at least as much negative criticism as well.

Cyril
08-08-2009, 02:31 AM
Fair enough. But if your goal is to be at least as good as Waterworld, then it goes with the territory that you'll receive at least as much negative criticism as well.

There is not a single author who is admired by everyone.

mediocrity
08-08-2009, 02:49 AM
Your entire post was simply an account of wrong conjectures about Immaculate Love. Are you even trying to understand what is happening?

Oh Mr. Cyril. I am an educated woman. You really want to go down this road?

PS. To be immature for a moment? Most people who have read this nonsense think your writing style sucks. There is NO artistry in it, it evokes NO emotions, it reads as cold as a fucking muder file.

Cyril
08-08-2009, 03:01 AM
Your writing style strikes me as very cold and impersonal, honestly.

Where do you see "cold" in my writing?