Last week, I resumed my regularly scheduled series of blog posts on critiquing the snippets of fiction posted here recently by my loyal blog readers.
We’ll continue that today, but I wanted to note that I heard today via the grapevine that another of my students/friends sold her first novel today. Her initials are CB, so if she wants to post the good news here in a comment, I’d love to hear all the details, or as many as she’s willing to share. Of course, she may be so busy celebrating that she forgets to read my blog, but let’s hope not.
I met CB at a conference a couple of years ago and have been following her progress with interest. I absolutely loved the sample chapters that she let me read last summer and I told her that she was very close to getting it published. So I’m thrilled to hear the news, because I really want to read the rest of the book.
In any event, today we’ll critique a submission by Lynda. Here it is:
Rumbles roused Alejandro to half-consciousness. Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations. Something cold splattered against the back of his neck. His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves. More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face. He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.
Excruciating pain shot through his arm. He screamed, clutched a wound, and writhed. The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder. He wiped his eyes and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture.
Where was he? He reached up and parted some twigs. The jungle?
The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud. Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light.
It would storm soon. He had to find shelter. Tangles of Passion Vines reached the forest floor. He grabbed a fist full, hoisted himself to a sitting position, and scanned the area. No outcrops. No hollow logs. His gaze went to a Giant Kapok that towered above adjacent trees. It would have to do. With his good arm, he dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground and hid amid the tree’s buttress folds. The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.He rested his head against the bryophyte encrusted bark. What happened? He’d been in his office at the university. How did he get here? And, what happened to his arm? Through the deluge, he studied the wind ravaged surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar. His temples pulsed with concentration. There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain. He closed his eyes. The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby. Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm. His fault. Everything was his fault. He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.
Randy sez: I have some thoughts on this, but I’d like to see my loyal blog readers exercise their own critiquing skills on this passage. What is Lynda doing well here? What could she improve and why would it be an improvement?
As a first exercise, I’d recommend counting the number of Motivations and the number of Reactions in the passage. If you have never heard of Motivations and Reactions, now would be a marvelous time to read my summary article on them, “Writing the Perfect Scene.”
Let’s resume tomorrow, and I’d like to see some brilliant and incisive comments from you all. Post a comment with your thoughts!
I will attempt to make this a brilliant, incisive comment … but it’s going to be all about me, which pretty much rules that out. 🙂
I’m the not-so-mysterious “CB” and was thrilled to finally spill the beans about Moody contracting Undiscovered. It’s been a contract more than a month in the making, and remaining quiet ranks right up there with waterboarding for me.
I’ll be blogging about the particulars for the next week or so, but Moody was not the first house to say they had an offer on the way. However, they were the first to actually submit one to my agent and to negotiate a few tiny things. 🙂 I will also be sharing something I asked my agent to do that will shock a few people.
I could go on and on, so I’ll close with a few intriguing notes: the title has already been changed–before the contract was signed, the slated release date is Sept. ’09, and Randy’s statement of support was one of the most meaningful ones I read today!
If you aren’t sick of hearing about this yet, click on this link to the infrequent, humorous Ashberry Lane newsletter to read more details. (You really should sign up while you’re there!) Or type “infrequent humorous” into the Google search box and click the “I’m feeling lucky!” button.
Congratulations Christina!!!!
Congratulation, Christina! I can’t wait to hear more about it.
Ok, Randy’s challenge. I think I counted five motivations and five reactions. (It goes up every time I re-read it!) “He wiped his eyes…” at the end of the second paragraph is the first one I’d move into a new paragraph. I’d also split up the three sentences where he realizes he’s in the jungle. Thought – action – thought. I think I’ll like the extra white on the page there, too. Kind of a visual cue for the shock he’s feeling.
In the last paragraph, I think I’d break after, “What happened to his arm?” and again after, “Nothing seemed familiar.” It’s not technically a visual, but I’d argue that you can usually tell when someone is looking on something unfamiliar. It’d show in his face.
I love your forest steaming, Lynda. A friend of mine just came back from hiking in British Columbia, and he described the rainforest there the same way. Also, the waning reverberations of the thunder is just right. I love your descriptions.
Congrats Christina!!! Now the hard work begins, hehe.
I counted eleven pairs, but agree with Carrie on the paragraphing. Some, though, do well together in one paragraph.
“There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain. He closed his eyes. The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby. Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm. His fault. Everything was his fault. He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname. ”
These last two should be their own paragraph, mainly because the types of motivations here change. It isn’t the jungle any more but memories.
Lynda, you have great descriptions! I need to learn to describe so well.
Wow, Lynda. This is great writing. The mystery unfolds well. I grew up in Africa in rain-forest country and your description is not only accurate, but it took me back to my childhood.
I won’t even attempt the MRU’s. I know — I’m chicken! However, I do have some other suggestions:
1)I LOVED “moldy stink of decaying leaves” and droplets “bleeding down.” Great description.
2)Shouldn’t there be some pain mentioned in paragraph 4, since he screamed in agony the first time he moved?
3)”Byrophyte” stumped me. I don’t think you want to send your reader for the dictionary. Could you make its meaning more clear.
4)I’d start a new paragraph at the bottom beginning with “His tepmles pulsed. . .” Also, I would have him mutter “My fault. Everything is my fault.” I think that would make his mental agony even more meaningul.
Congratulations on a job well done! I would definitely read this book from these few paragraphs.
Write on!
Howdy!
(Congrats, Christina!)
I don’t know how much help I can be, but here are a couple of things I saw.
First, I love the opening. Him waking up, and the splattering of rain against his neck.
I’m not even going to try with the motivations and reactions- I think those are pretty clear, and I’m horrible at those, so my comments are fairly useless. I did notice a couple of things, though.
Ok, first, I’m having trouble with the phrase “Excruciating pain shot through his arm.” The way you go on to describe it decreasing to a throb is AMAZING- it really gets the feeling across- but I’m wondering if something can be done with the word excruciating to make it more real, so we can feel the pain like we do in the next sentence, not just be told that it’s excruciating.
Ok, then “Tangles of Passion Vines.” I think naming the vines (and capitalizing them?) slows down the pace a little bit. Maybe scrunch it into something like “He grabbed onto the vines that hung down from the trees” or something. (But better than that, because you’re clearly a better writer than I am. 🙂
I agree with the others on the paragraph breaks. That’s all that struck me right off the bat. And I think it’s a great passage! Nice work!
Congrats, Christina!
Congratulations Christina!! May it be the first in a long series of successes.
He who incites others to blog on his behalf is indeed a crafty blogger…
Seeing that I’m here to learn about MRU’s, I hardly feel qualified to critique Lynda. At the risk of showing my ignorance, I’ll give it a try based solely on the MRU method.
The first paragraph combined both motivation and reaction. It needs to be broken up like this.
*****
Rumbles roused Alejandro to half-consciousness. Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations. Something cold splattered against the back of his neck.
His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves.
More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face.
He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.
*****
Again, the next paragraph combines motivation and reaction.
*****
Excruciating pain shot through his arm.
He screamed, clutched a wound, and writhed.
The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder.
He wiped his eyes and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture.
*****
The following paragraph I think I’d change, although it’s a reaction.
*****
“Where was he?” he thought. He reached up and parted some twigs. “The jungle, perhaps.”
*****
Lynda, you’re power of description is your strength. In the following paragraph you wrote, “It would storm soon. He had to find shelter,” left me disappointed. You started out describing the approaching storm and it may not even need to be mentioned again. I took the liberty of editing that portion as my suggestion. (for what it’s worth)
The next paragraph divided into MRU’s:
*****
The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud. Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light. The rain’s assault on him intensified.
He hoisted himself upright with a fist full of the Passion Vines tangled about the forest floor. He scanned the area for shelter.
No outcrops. No hollow logs. A lone Giant Kapok towered nearby.
With his good arm, he dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground and hid amid the tree’s buttress folds.
The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.
*****
In the previous paragraph, I think the sentence, “It would have to do,” lends nothing to the story. It is neither a motivation or a reaction. It tells instead of shows the reader.
In the next paragraph, you ask a lot of questions. I felt as if you were asking me… I don’t know, but I want to. Because I want to, I don’t think it’s necessary for you to ask. You’ve already done your job as a writer to make your reader curious to what is going on in your story. IMHO, if you ask a lot of questions like that, you’re telegraphing a lack of confidence to the reader. And, Lynda, I don’t think you have a reason to lack confidence. You have a vivid imagination and have no problem conveying it to others. Have faith in your readers to meet you in the middle… they will. 🙂
Okay, that was the impression it left me as a reader. As a writer, I understand that you were implying those questions were going on in your POV character’s mind. If that’s the case, then it’s too passive. I think the story would benefit by making it more active, like this…
*****
He rested his head against the bryophyte encrusted bark and began gathering the fragments of his memories.
He had been in his office at the university.
Through the deluge, he studied the wind ravaged surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar. His temples pulsed with concentration.
There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain.
He closed his eyes.
The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby.
Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm.
“It’s my fault,” he whispered as the realization struck him. “Everything is my fault.” He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.”
*****
Anyway, that’s breaking it down into MRU’s as I understand them. I’m sure you can improve on what I wrote, but I think it’s more readable this way. Having a series of short paragraphs like this also gives a sense of time passing very quickly and lends itself well to the setting.
As I read through your work trying to separate motivations from reactions, I noticed memories could probably be treated as either. Since he was trying to remember, I chose to use them as motivations. That worked well, I think, and seemed to be keeping with your original intent. I also like the way it seemed to confirm the fragmentary nature of his memories as they seeped back in.
That all being said, Lynda, my impression of your writing is very positive. You have a literary style of writing, something I appreciate very much. I prefer that kind of writing in fact. Unfortunately, the modern literati seem to favor modern writing over literary style. In my own writing, I’m trying to reconcile the two. This is where I think MRU’s serve well because we can keep writing in literary style, while applying a more modern technique, giving our work more widely accepted appeal.
Or, maybe I’m all wet… *shrug*
Keep up the good work. 🙂
Sherri
Congratulations, Christina!
Now, here are my thoughts regarding Lynda’s submission:
I completely agree with Carrie regarding breaking up the second and last paragraphs completely. Both still contain motivations and reactions, but it reads clearer this way. I also moved “wiped his eyes” from paragraph 2 to the next paragraph to keep the focus of that paragraph on the arm pain.
I only differ with Carrie by preferring to keep paragraph 3 together (with the “wiped his eyes” sentence), but I see her point. It can definitely work that way (I like some whitespace too!) and it might be better. It would be easier to decide which was a better fit if we had more of the writing to compare it to.
I’d argue the “Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain.” bit in the last paragraph is actually more of a reaction than a motivation since it’s a memory. Randy, is this a fair assessment?
Like Carrie, I also break after both “What happened to his arm?” and “Nothing seemed familiar.” Personally, I like ending on question marks as this subtly emphasizes what the character is going through. There is a change of focus from internal to external at “through the deluge” which reinforces the decision to break here. I considered putting “His temples pulsed with concentration” at the end of the resulting middle paragraph, but had to move it to the last. It just works better there.
The part I struggled with the most was where to put “Nothing seemed familiar” from the last paragraph. Is it a motivation or reaction or some combination of both? Randy, can you clarify? It’s clearly got an internal aspect to it and yet…
So, my final tally is 9 paragraph divisions from the original 5-6 (depending on whether the break before ”It would storm soon” was intentional or not).
Lastly, I agree with the others regarding your descriptive abilities. They are very strong Lynda! Congrats!
My paragraph divisions: (Reactions marked with [].)
Rumbles roused Alejandro to half-consciousness. Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations. Something cold splattered against the back of his neck. [His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves.] More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face. [He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.]
Excruciating pain shot through his arm. [He screamed, clutched a wound, and writhed.] The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder.
[He wiped his eyes and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture. Where was he? He reached up and parted some twigs. The jungle?]
The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud. Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light. It would storm soon. [He had to find shelter.]
Tangles of Passion Vines reached the forest floor. [He grabbed a fist full, hoisted himself to a sitting position, and scanned the area. No outcrops. No hollow logs. His gaze went to a Giant Kapok that towered above adjacent trees. It would have to do. With his good arm, he dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground and hid amid the tree’s buttress folds.]
The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.
[He rested his head against the bryophyte encrusted bark. What happened? He’d been in his office at the university. How did he get here? And, what happened to his arm?]
Through the deluge, [he studied the wind ravaged surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar.]
His temples pulsed with concentration. There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain. He closed his eyes. The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby. Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm. His fault. Everything was his fault. He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.]
Congratulations, Christina!
Alright, let me take a stab at this. I’m considering thoughts to be reactions, as they are internal.
[M]Rumbles roused Alejandro to half-consciousness. Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations. Something cold splattered against the back of his neck. || [R]His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves. [M]More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face. [R]He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.
[M]Excruciating pain shot through his arm. [R]He screamed, clutched a wound, and writhed. [M]The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder. [R]He wiped his eyes and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture.
Where was he? He reached up and parted some twigs. The jungle?
[M]The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud. Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light. It would storm soon. He had to find shelter. Tangles of Passion Vines reached the forest floor. || [R]He grabbed a fist full, hoisted himself to a sitting position, and scanned the area. [M]No outcrops. No hollow logs. [R]His gaze went to a Giant Kapok that towered above adjacent trees. [M/R – I can’t decide whether this is internal or external – I think it’s both – it’s his thought about a situation that motivates the next part.]It would have to do. || With his good arm, he dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground and hid amid the tree’s buttress folds. || [M]The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.
[R]He rested his head against the bryophyte encrusted bark. What happened? He’d been in his office at the university. How did he get here? And, what happened to his arm? Through the deluge, he studied the wind ravaged surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar. His temples pulsed with concentration. There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain. He closed his eyes. The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby. Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm. His fault. Everything was his fault. He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.
That makes 7 motivations, 8 reactions, counting that one thought as both.
Other notes – I love the imagery in the first paragraph, but it read to me more like poetry than prose – it took me a couple of readthroughs of the first couple of sentences to realize what was going on. That said, I love “succession of sky-shattering cracks.” I’ve heard people say that alliteration is out, but I’m still a fan of it.
I do think some of the rest of the paragraphs need to be separated a bit more, according to the MRUs. I’ve put “||” symbols where I would divide it up more.
You have beautiful description and a gorgeous writing style. I particularly love the way you described his pain fading, and his remembrances in the last paragraph. Good job!
Lynda,
I could definitely see and feel the situation with Alejandro through your clear descriptions, but I’m going to go ahead and try my hand at identifying motivations and reactions. As others have mentioned, it’s a learning process for me.
To begin with, I counted 12 motivations and 13-15 reactions (including memories as reactions which could be totally wrong!) So this takes the original five paragraphs up to 19 paragraphs.
On my first read, I was caught by “rumbles roused,” so I would suggest “A deep rumbling roused…” just to make it easier on the tongue. Following is the breakdown of new paragraphs. Please feel free to discard or ignore completely.
***
A deep rumbling roused Alejandro to half-consciousness. Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations.
Something cold splattered against the back of his neck.
His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves. More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face. He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.
Hot (see Avily’s note on excruciating) pain shot through his arm. He screamed and clutched a wound (where on arm?). The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder. He wiped his eyes and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture.
Where was he?
He reached up and parted some twigs.
A jungle?
The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud. Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light. It would storm soon. He had to find shelter.
Tangles of Passion Vines reached the forest floor and he grabbed a fist full with his good arm. (I moved the good arm part from a later paragraph.) Hoisting himself to a sitting position, he scanned the area. No outcrops. No hollow logs. His gaze settled on (rather than went to) a Giant Kapok that towered above adjacent trees. It would have to do.
He dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground, hid amid the tree’s buttress folds and rested his head against the crusty bark (see Sylvia’s note on bryophyte), (last part moved ahead from following graph).
The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.
How did he get here? (Deleted “What happened?” – see Sherri’s note.)
He’d been in his office at the university.
And, what happened to his arm?
Through the deluge, he studied the wind-ravaged surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar. His temples pulsed with concentration.
There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain.
He closed his eyes. The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby. Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm.
His fault. Everything was his fault. He grabbed his face and sobbed.
“Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.”
****
Overall, a very gripping scene, Lynda. Keep up the good work.
Davalynn
Thanks to all of you for the congratulations! It’s been a very rewarding two days. I’m especially thankful for those of you who signed up for the newsletter.
I better go examine every MRU in the book now! You guys are great at this.
Congratulations Christina! You’ve achieved what is every writer’s dream.
I’ve been reading all of Randy’s MRU’s, but am not sure whether I’ve got it right yet. Anyways, let me try.
“Rumbles roused Alejandro to half-consciousness.” – Reaction
“Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations. Something cold splattered against the back of his neck.” – Motivation
“His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves.” – Reaction
“More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face.” Motivation
“He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.” – Reaction
“Excruciating pain shot through his arm.” – Motivation
“He screamed, clutched a wound, and writhed. The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder. He wiped his eyes and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture.” – Reaction
“Where was he? He reached up and parted some twigs. The jungle?” Motivation + Reaction + Motivation???
The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud.
“Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light.” Motivation?
“It would storm soon. He had to find shelter.” – Motivation
Tangles of Passion Vines reached the forest floor.
“He grabbed a fist full, hoisted himself to a sitting position, and scanned the area.” – Reaction
No outcrops. No hollow logs.
“His gaze went to a Giant Kapok that towered above adjacent trees. It would have to do.” – Motivation
“With his good arm, he dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground and hid amid the tree’s buttress folds. ” – Reaction
“The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.” Don’t know 🙂
“He rested his head against the bryophyte encrusted bark.” – Reaction
“What happened? He’d been in his office at the university. How did he get here? And, what happened to his arm?” Motivation
“Through the deluge, he studied the wind ravaged surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar. His temples pulsed with concentration. There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain.” – Motivation
“He closed his eyes.” – Reaction
“The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby. Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm. His fault. Everything was his fault.” – Motivation
“He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.” – Reaction
I must have blundered. Waiting for Randy for insight into this one too. 🙂
Ok. This is my first post here but I have been following the blog for some months. My critique will sound straightforward and rock-hard but it is certainly open for criticism and I’m not a porfessional writer so it should not be taken too seriously. They are just my thoughts. (I would also like to add that I’m a foreigner so my observations regarding the style of description might not be absolutely valid).
The good things: I thought what Lynda did well was keeping some of the motivations and reactions together. It should not feel choppy by putting every sentence in a new paragraph. The protagonist is confused here and every feeling rushes on him when he regains consciousness so it’s logical to keep the structure a bit flowing. (I will not say anything about how exactly this should be paragraphed because I don’t think I can add any constructive advice on that).
The not so good things: It’s very subjective but I thought, although Linda’s descriptions are very effective, some of the words were too strong and it was a bit distracting for me (e.g. the jungle exploded with light). The description of how the protagonist experiences the environment (especially at the very beginning) are too accurate for somebody who just regained consciousness and doesn’t know where he is. Also the ‘Kapok tree’ and the ‘bryophyte’ are distracting. I think if we are looking at the scene from the protagonist’s POV he wouldn’t care what tree he sees, he might note one or two characteristics of the tree while he climbs on it. Some sentences later when he has time to think he might note it is a Kapok tree but not straightaway. Also regarding the byrophyte: the protagonist wouldn’t note the species of the thing he rests his head on he just feels the leafs’s touch first.
Hey, I want to critique it too! 🙂
I count 13 of each.
Rumbles [M] roused Alejandro to half-consciousness[R]. Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations. Something cold splattered against the back of his neck.[M] His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves.[R] More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face.[M] He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.[R]
Excruciating pain shot through his arm.[M] He screamed, clutched a wound, and writhed.[R] The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder.[M] He wiped his eyes[R] and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture.[M]
Where was he? He reached up and parted some twigs. The jungle?[R]
The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud. Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light.[M]
It would storm soon. He had to find shelter.[R]
Tangles of Passion Vines reached the forest floor.[M] He grabbed a fist full, hoisted himself to a sitting position, and scanned the area. No outcrops. No hollow logs.[R] His gaze went to a Giant Kapok that towered above adjacent trees.[M] It would have to do. With his good arm, he dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground and hid amid the tree’s buttress folds.[R]
The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.[M]
He rested his head against the bryophyte encrusted bark. What happened? He’d been in his office at the university. How did he get here? And, what happened to his arm?[R] Through the deluge, he studied the wind ravaged surroundings.[M] Nothing seemed familiar.[R] His temples pulsed with concentration.[M] There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain.[R] He closed his eyes. The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby.[M] Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm. His fault. Everything was his fault. He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.”[R]
Congratulations Christina – way to go!
Congrats, lassie. I knew it was a winner when I read an excerpt last year. Sign me up for an autographed copy AND an Amazon review.
Y’all lost me on this critique, guys. I am just listening and learning. 🙂
Wow, this is a tough one! I’ll give it a go:
[Motivation (arguable, but I’d say being woken by thunder is not a reaction to anything, it’s part of the motivation for whatever he does next)] Rumbles roused Alejandro to half-consciousness. Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations. Something cold splattered against the back of his neck. [Reaction (reflex, no rational action yet)] His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves. [Motivation] More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face. [Reaction] He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.
[M] Excruciating pain shot through his arm. [R (maybe change to screamed, writhed, and clutched his wound–seems like the first two would happen first)] He screamed, clutched a wound, and writhed. [M] The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder. [R] He wiped his eyes and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture.
Where was he? He reached up and parted some twigs. The jungle?
[M] The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud. Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light.
It would storm soon. [R] He had to find shelter. Tangles of Passion Vines reached the forest floor. He grabbed a fist full, hoisted himself to a sitting position, and scanned the area. [M] No outcrops. No hollow logs. His gaze went to a Giant Kapok that towered above adjacent trees. It would have to do. [R] With his good arm, he dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground and hid amid the tree’s buttress folds. [M]The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.
[R] He rested his head against the bryophyte encrusted bark. What happened? He’d been in his office at the university. How did he get here? And, what happened to his arm? Through the deluge, he studied the wind ravaged surroundings. [M] Nothing seemed familiar. [R] His temples pulsed with concentration. [M] There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain. [R] He closed his eyes. [M] The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby. [R] Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm. His fault. Everything was his fault. He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.
I count ten total MRUs, and twenty individual pieces. It’s hard to decide on some of these–there’s a lot going on in Alejandro’s head.
Hi, I’m a bit of a sporadic reader of this blog, but I’m trying to learn about the MRUs and its really interesting seeing the different ways people have interpreted Lynda’s submission. I’ll have a go too, but I’m still learning so I’m sure there are other (better) ways. Also, I really liked the descriptions of the rain and thunder. I’ve been in jungles in Thailand and Laos and I think you’re pretty spot on with the way you describe the wet, humid forest and the sudden downpour.
M. Rumbles roused Alejandro to half-consciousness. Overhead a succession of sky shattering cracks increased in intensity, each answered by waning reverberations. Something cold splattered against the back of his neck.
R. His eyes flew open, and he stared into dank soil that emitted the moldy stink of decaying leaves.
M. More droplets struck his neck, bled down, and seeped into the depression that cradled his face.
R. He gathered his strength and rolled onto his back.
(I was also a bit confused about what or who Rumbles was)
R. Excruciating pain shot through his arm. He screamed, clutched a wound, and writhed. The agony decreased by degrees to a fiery throb that radiated into his shoulder. He wiped his eyes and stared into the underside of a shrub that dripped with moisture.
R. Where was he?
M. He reached up and parted some twigs.
R. The jungle?
M. The forest around him steamed, producing an earthy cloud. Its heaviness hindered his breath and dimmed the light.
R. It would storm soon. He had to find shelter.
M. Tangles of Passion Vines reached the forest floor. He grabbed a fist full, hoisted himself to a sitting position, and scanned the area. No outcrops. No hollow logs. His gaze went to a Giant Kapok that towered above adjacent trees. It would have to do. With his good arm, he dragged himself over the thickly mulched ground and hid amid the tree’s buttress folds. The jungle exploded with light. A crash followed. Then like the opening of a spillway, a torrent poured through the rainforest canopy.
(I think maybe passion vines doesn’t need capitalising?)
M. He rested his head against the bryophyte encrusted bark.
R. What happened? He’d been in his office at the university. How did he get here? And, what happened to his arm?
M. Through the deluge, he studied the wind ravaged surroundings. Nothing seemed familiar.
R. His temples pulsed with concentration. There had been soldiers. Running. Rifle fire. Pain. Terrible pain.
M. He closed his eyes.
R. The nursery appeared on the inside of his eyelids. And, the bloody bodies of Elena and their baby. Anguish crushed his heart, dwarfing the pain in his arm. His fault. Everything was his fault. He grabbed his face and sobbed, “Perdóname, Señor, Perdóname.
So I count 8 Motivations and 9 Reactions.
Cool writing, made me want to read more 🙂