Anna's Artists Chat Thread

[lilmillefleur]

Can any writers out there help? This is part of a !nonexistent! larger work, but it’s really jerky, wordy in some parts, not enough in others. But I need fresh eyes and can’t figure out how to fix it. Also Zephyr needs more mystique, she’s really static.

Spoiler: Peregrine meets Zephyr

Peregrine dodged a tree, pumping his wings an excessive amount. He lurched in flight as the basket he gripped in his claws swung violently to the side. He navigated the forest shakily, eyes flashing back and forth, breathing hard.
There. Not far ahead was a branch with a teardrop-shaped hut hanging from it. It was woven from leaves and had a bird-sized hole in it. As the hut came into view, he dropped in flight. The long and poorly executed flight had him sapped of energy.
He made a last desperate push against gravity as he dragged himself and the basket through the hole, collapsing on the floor.
An elderly bird—Peregrine knew her name was Zephyr—was staring at some oddly colored leaves on the wall when he came in. She inspected the contents of the basket—berries—and Peregrine who appeared to be doing his best puddle impression. He picked himself up when he heard her chuckling.
“Hey!” Peregrine’s voice gave an adolescent squeak. “I can barely carry myself yet, let alone a whole basket on the side!” He preened his brand-new feathers and got a mouthful of fluff. Barely a fledgling, Peregrine was still pudgy with bits of chick-down stuck all over his patchy brown feathers.
He peered into the basket and swelled with pride. I didn’t drop any.
“Sage wanted me to deliver this to you, Zephyr,” Peregrine explained.
“Thank you, dear chick, and thank Sage for me,” Zephyr said.
“Not a problem!” Peregrine said, even though it had been a problem. Flying was very fresh and exciting for him, but beating gravity proved to be difficult.
Zephyr barely glanced at Peregrine before staring back at the wall again. Peregrine looked around the room for the first time.
There was a little furniture, of course, and a roost hanging to the side, yes, but it all seemed to fade into the background when he saw what was hanging on the walls. They weren’t weird leaves, they were feathers. A couple of them were grey or black, belonging to your typical black canary, but a couple were red, at least part-of-the-way. But the one Zephyr was staring at was in the middle of them all, and it was red as a cardinal’s feathers.
She’s clearly gone senile, Peregrine thought. That’s gross, collecting other birds’ feathers. He didn’t want to look at them, but he kept peering back at the center, where the red feather hung.
Zephyr lovingly preened the feather back into place. “That was my mate’s feather,” Zephyr said. “His name was Delo. He was a great warrior. Delo fought bravely against the blue jays in the Battle of the Bramble. And he was one of the last of the red canaries, a great race. Now he is dead, along with all of our chicks.” When she swept a wing at the other feathers and they fluttered in the puff of wind she created.
“Wow, that’s terrible, I’m really sorry.” Peregrine said, not sure what else to say. I really am, but I didn’t know she was going to tell me about her dead family. Also, red canaries? There’s no way she was the mate of a red canary. They were supposed to be beautiful. They wouldn’t choose a mate who uses the feathers of her dead relatives as wall hangings! She probably found a cardinal feather and made up this story to get attention.
For someone who probably didn’t get many visitors, Zephyr didn’t seem very interested in talking. The room was quiet enough that Peregrine could hear his own breathing. What with his breath having come back, and Zephyr being somewhat creepy, Peregrine decided to take his leave. “Well, goodbye, then. Enjoy your berries,” he said, slipping through the door.
“Goodbye, and don’t forget to give my thanks to Sage,” Zephyr replied.
“I will!”
As Peregrine took off and began the unsteady flight home, he glanced back through the hole. He heard singing, like only a canary could sing. Zephyr was singing to the feathers on the wall.

!! LONG POST AHEAD !!
sorry for not responding sooner, I was just hit with the urge to write this

Spoiler: critique of Amer's writing!! :)

yeah this was going to be shorter but its super long now sorry

To start out: I like your story, it's really good! Zephyr is really an interesting character, I kinda want to learn more about her. That's a good thing, LOL! The reason why this critique is so long is because I'm nitpicking, but I think this nitpicking will improve the structure of the writing overall and fix some of the issues you had with it
One suggestion could be to be a bit more descriptive with your wording??? Idk this might not be a recurring thing but at the end, I notice you say she sings 'like only a canary could sing' which I think is a good phrase and makes for a good realization, but maybe to make it even better you could provide a description of how the singing sounds.
So instead you could say, "As Peregrine took off and began the unsteady flight home, [he doesn't need to look back, that's unneccesary] he could hear singing. It was a soft and lilting warble, but with a bitter edge of uneasiness. Like only a canary could sing. Zephyr was singing to the feathers on the wall."
Of course, you can write the singing to sound however you like, idk, but hopefully, this extra description would give a little more understanding of the situation, and allows the reader to connect with both Peregrin and Zephyr to a slightly greater extent. And I hopefully think it will help with what you are calling 'jerkiness'.
Another thing would be to combine and shorten sentences. I'm thinking of when you were describing the bird feathers on the wall, you kind of 'separate' the phrases by feather color. I think it would flow better if you described it in one list: "there were gray feathers, blue feathers, striped feathers, red tipped, [whatever, make it feel strange and interesting], but his eyes almost immediately rested on the feather in the middle. It was big, red, [whatever, be descriptive]."
Okay that was actually a horrible example I gave you but I hope you at least get the idea of what I'm trying to convey here. That should also help with jankiness and a better flow.
Also, try not to repeat words more than once every few sentences. Sometimes you don't even need that word in the phrase, or even the phrase itself. I saw one or two instances of this but I think you know that repeating words isn't a good idea so I won't elaborate.
As for the lack of mystique in Zephyr, there are a few ways to approach her actions/attitude in the scene depending on what you want her to be like in your story. I have a couple ideas.
I notice in your writing she comes out and flat-out says everything about her mate, which is a little jarring because she's described as being quiet just moments later. One suggestion would be to make her somewhat discreet about her mate, but instead of being cold and aloof about it just make her really melodramatic. Like an '"oh woe is me! my mate and children are dead! Look, I put their beautiful feathers all over the wall!" but doesn't elaborate' kind of character. idk, I think that could match her more eccentric characterization. Even if you don't go with this idea, I do think you should either tone back the story of her mate, or add more description to her mood/actions as she's speaking. We don't need to know the name of the battle he fought in just yet, we just need to know why he is important to the scene and what he means for Zephyr's character.
One more thing. You italicized a lot of peregrine's thoughts for a solid small paragraph. Give him one italicized thought-dialogue whatever you call it, and then just narrate his thoughts for the rest in the normal third-person perspective.

TL;DR: Be more descriptive with wording. Shorten/combine sentences. Those should help with flow. Zephyr should not be giving out so many details, and if she does, make it more descriptive. Don't make paragraphs of thought, use third person.
Anyway that was a lot. I hope this helps!!

 

[lilmillefleur]

I was in a writey mood today so I also ended up jumpstarting my star wars story!
I do have a first draft for a chapter of my fantasy story as well, but it's old and needs to be updated since a lot has changed.

Spoiler: chapter 1 of The Twilighters

I.​

The city was the most beautiful at the end of twilight. The sky was dark enough to make the lights dazzle but there was still one last vibrant streak of orange in the clouds, almost as though it were frantically choking out its last words before the death of dusk. That is what Esila Kaye had thought her whole life. She’d sat by this window where she was sitting now, countless times, just watching the planet become covered in a swath of blackness. Watching and thinking. Usually they were pointless thoughts, and sometimes they were worrisome, but today they were almost-deep thoughts. Thoughts about home.
Now her eyes aimlessly followed the countless lanes of airspeeder traffic, through the bright lights of the Corusca Circus, down into the crevices of the surface layer that allowed the last remaining light to penetrate the mid-levels of the city. Almost like cities of their own, layered on top of each other, one after another, organized chaos. The way of nature. The whole planet pulsated with the lives of one trillion sentients.
She was thinking because she had never been off Coruscant before. It had every attraction--the opera house, the botanical garden, the theatre, the massive museum she’d only explored half of over the course of her young life--but she’d never seen the galaxy. All she knew of Alderaan or Correllia or Anaxes were the holos and artifacts she saw in the museums; never mind the minimally populated but beautiful planets of the outer rim. She could recite them all by heart, but that was the extent of what school had taught her. That wasn’t enough. Someday, she would leave Coruscant and live somewhere else: somewhere a bit quieter, a bit more obscure, but still peaceful. Her homeworld of Pantora, perhaps. It was where her parents were born, though she had never visited there herself. They said it was covered in beautiful frosted grasses and marshlands, and the buildings in the towns and cities were shaped funny, like teardrops. Or maybe somewhere else...like Naboo, or Arkanis, or Kashyyyk. She’d build a small farm on the edge of a forest or a lake, and she’d keep a pet tooka and a bunch of droids that would help her with farming. As much as she loved Coruscant, it just had to be anywhere but the beautiful skyscraper she now stood in, on the 92nd floor, overlooking the hub of the city…
She found her eyes straying to The Portal again. There was something beautifully ominous about it; the way the big freight ships came over it and then sank down, down, down, like some poor creature drowning and tied to a rock, until they disappeared below the surface, into the Underworld. Sometimes she’d even see a ship coming back out of the massive hole; those were uncommon enough of an occurrence that she could count the number of ships coming up when she was bored. And sometimes there were tiny speeder bikes, zippy little things, that would shoot down the portal at an almost completely vertical angle. They were often followed by wailing sirens and police speeders or even small military craft.
The Underworld was somewhere Esila was told to never go. People only went there to evade the law. There was nothing to see, nothing really to do down there. They said it was so dark and the air was so putrid and polluted, the people who lived there had to wear breathing masks. There was so much criminal activity, a classmate had said, that people got shot and beat up in the streets all the time and the civilians would have to sweep their mutilated bodies off the sidewalk. And if you went down deep enough, to the lowest of the low levels, there were giant mutant monsters and rancors and zillo beasts that would destroy all the apartments and eat the people in their wake. To the people who lived there, they said, the stars and the planets and the suns themselves were about as foreign as deep space was to Esila. The upper-level folks called those people the Twilighters.

 

[Amer]

Thanks for the compliments btw RRA, I like my writing style too.

So instead you could say, "As Peregrine took off and began the unsteady flight home, [he doesn't need to look back, that's unneccesary] he could hear singing. It was a soft and lilting warble, but with a bitter edge of uneasiness. Like only a canary could sing. Zephyr was singing to the feathers on the wall."

that’s very helpful

separate' the phrases by feather color. I think it would flow better if you described it in one list: "there were gray feathers, blue feathers, striped feathers, red tipped, [whatever, make it feel strange and interesting], but his eyes almost immediately rested on the feather in the middle. It was big, red, [whatever, be descriptive]."
Okay that was actually a horrible example I gave you but I hope you at least get the idea of what I'm trying to convey here. That should also help with jankiness and a better flow.

helpful too I’ll do that

but instead of being cold and aloof about it just make her really melodramatic. Like an '"oh woe is me! my mate and children are dead! Look, I put their beautiful feathers all over the wall!" but doesn't elaborate' kind of character. idk, I think that could match her more eccentric characterization.

yeah she’s definitely more melodramatic. It’s been more than a year and it is terrible but she continually remains in her situation instead of trying to better it. She definitely isn’t the aloof sort, which I like because it can be overused.
Okay I’ll narrate his thoughts more I was trying to do show don’t tell but it didn’t work so well. And my style lends more to the telling anyways. I think your advice will really help with the jerkiness.

 

[RoostersAreAwesome]

@RoostersAreAwesome i don’t know how to post pics on your profile but this for u
View attachment 2454029

Thanks, this is appreciated. XD

 

[lilmillefleur]

I got a rare pet on chicken smoothie yesterday... lol
She's a re-release from 2009! It's literally Brightheart! I love her!

 

[Amer]

I was in a writey mood today so I also ended up jumpstarting my star wars story!
I do have a first draft for a chapter of my fantasy story as well, but it's old and needs to be updated since a lot has changed.

Spoiler: chapter 1 of The Twilighters

I.​

The city was the most beautiful at the end of twilight. The sky was dark enough to make the lights dazzle but there was still one last vibrant streak of orange in the clouds, almost as though it were frantically choking out its last words before the death of dusk. That is what Esila Kaye had thought her whole life. She’d sat by this window where she was sitting now, countless times, just watching the planet become covered in a swath of blackness. Watching and thinking. Usually they were pointless thoughts, and sometimes they were worrisome, but today they were almost-deep thoughts. Thoughts about home.
Now her eyes aimlessly followed the countless lanes of airspeeder traffic, through the bright lights of the Corusca Circus, down into the crevices of the surface layer that allowed the last remaining light to penetrate the mid-levels of the city. Almost like cities of their own, layered on top of each other, one after another, organized chaos. The way of nature. The whole planet pulsated with the lives of one trillion sentients.
She was thinking because she had never been off Coruscant before. It had every attraction--the opera house, the botanical garden, the theatre, the massive museum she’d only explored half of over the course of her young life--but she’d never seen the galaxy. All she knew of Alderaan or Correllia or Anaxes were the holos and artifacts she saw in the museums; never mind the minimally populated but beautiful planets of the outer rim. She could recite them all by heart, but that was the extent of what school had taught her. That wasn’t enough. Someday, she would leave Coruscant and live somewhere else: somewhere a bit quieter, a bit more obscure, but still peaceful. Her homeworld of Pantora, perhaps. It was where her parents were born, though she had never visited there herself. They said it was covered in beautiful frosted grasses and marshlands, and the buildings in the towns and cities were shaped funny, like teardrops. Or maybe somewhere else...like Naboo, or Arkanis, or Kashyyyk. She’d build a small farm on the edge of a forest or a lake, and she’d keep a pet tooka and a bunch of droids that would help her with farming. As much as she loved Coruscant, it just had to be anywhere but the beautiful skyscraper she now stood in, on the 92nd floor, overlooking the hub of the city…
She found her eyes straying to The Portal again. There was something beautifully ominous about it; the way the big freight ships came over it and then sank down, down, down, like some poor creature drowning and tied to a rock, until they disappeared below the surface, into the Underworld. Sometimes she’d even see a ship coming back out of the massive hole; those were uncommon enough of an occurrence that she could count the number of ships coming up when she was bored. And sometimes there were tiny speeder bikes, zippy little things, that would shoot down the portal at an almost completely vertical angle. They were often followed by wailing sirens and police speeders or even small military craft.
The Underworld was somewhere Esila was told to never go. People only went there to evade the law. There was nothing to see, nothing really to do down there. They said it was so dark and the air was so putrid and polluted, the people who lived there had to wear breathing masks. There was so much criminal activity, a classmate had said, that people got shot and beat up in the streets all the time and the civilians would have to sweep their mutilated bodies off the sidewalk. And if you went down deep enough, to the lowest of the low levels, there were giant mutant monsters and rancors and zillo beasts that would destroy all the apartments and eat the people in their wake. To the people who lived there, they said, the stars and the planets and the suns themselves were about as foreign as deep space was to Esila. The upper-level folks called those people the Twilighters.

Cool! I like it!

 

[Yowza Wowza]

Thanks, this is appreciated. XD

Much welcome ^-^

 

[cooingdove]

I was in a writey mood today so I also ended up jumpstarting my star wars story!
I do have a first draft for a chapter of my fantasy story as well, but it's old and needs to be updated since a lot has changed.

Spoiler: chapter 1 of The Twilighters

I.​

The city was the most beautiful at the end of twilight. The sky was dark enough to make the lights dazzle but there was still one last vibrant streak of orange in the clouds, almost as though it were frantically choking out its last words before the death of dusk. That is what Esila Kaye had thought her whole life. She’d sat by this window where she was sitting now, countless times, just watching the planet become covered in a swath of blackness. Watching and thinking. Usually they were pointless thoughts, and sometimes they were worrisome, but today they were almost-deep thoughts. Thoughts about home.
Now her eyes aimlessly followed the countless lanes of airspeeder traffic, through the bright lights of the Corusca Circus, down into the crevices of the surface layer that allowed the last remaining light to penetrate the mid-levels of the city. Almost like cities of their own, layered on top of each other, one after another, organized chaos. The way of nature. The whole planet pulsated with the lives of one trillion sentients.
She was thinking because she had never been off Coruscant before. It had every attraction--the opera house, the botanical garden, the theatre, the massive museum she’d only explored half of over the course of her young life--but she’d never seen the galaxy. All she knew of Alderaan or Correllia or Anaxes were the holos and artifacts she saw in the museums; never mind the minimally populated but beautiful planets of the outer rim. She could recite them all by heart, but that was the extent of what school had taught her. That wasn’t enough. Someday, she would leave Coruscant and live somewhere else: somewhere a bit quieter, a bit more obscure, but still peaceful. Her homeworld of Pantora, perhaps. It was where her parents were born, though she had never visited there herself. They said it was covered in beautiful frosted grasses and marshlands, and the buildings in the towns and cities were shaped funny, like teardrops. Or maybe somewhere else...like Naboo, or Arkanis, or Kashyyyk. She’d build a small farm on the edge of a forest or a lake, and she’d keep a pet tooka and a bunch of droids that would help her with farming. As much as she loved Coruscant, it just had to be anywhere but the beautiful skyscraper she now stood in, on the 92nd floor, overlooking the hub of the city…
She found her eyes straying to The Portal again. There was something beautifully ominous about it; the way the big freight ships came over it and then sank down, down, down, like some poor creature drowning and tied to a rock, until they disappeared below the surface, into the Underworld. Sometimes she’d even see a ship coming back out of the massive hole; those were uncommon enough of an occurrence that she could count the number of ships coming up when she was bored. And sometimes there were tiny speeder bikes, zippy little things, that would shoot down the portal at an almost completely vertical angle. They were often followed by wailing sirens and police speeders or even small military craft.
The Underworld was somewhere Esila was told to never go. People only went there to evade the law. There was nothing to see, nothing really to do down there. They said it was so dark and the air was so putrid and polluted, the people who lived there had to wear breathing masks. There was so much criminal activity, a classmate had said, that people got shot and beat up in the streets all the time and the civilians would have to sweep their mutilated bodies off the sidewalk. And if you went down deep enough, to the lowest of the low levels, there were giant mutant monsters and rancors and zillo beasts that would destroy all the apartments and eat the people in their wake. To the people who lived there, they said, the stars and the planets and the suns themselves were about as foreign as deep space was to Esila. The upper-level folks called those people the Twilighters.

beautiful! I really like it, but I don't egsactly get it, only because I've never watched Star Wars.

 

[Amer]

I changed my mind. Peregrine is not like Nickel. Peregrine is far more oblivious.

 

[Amer]

I sleep on the yogurt mat. It’s the color of strobbery.