Firstly, thanks for posting. So many don’t bother. Nor do they bother to critique. I guess they wonder why they should give up their precious writing time to someone they neither know nor care about. Here’s why I do. I’ve learnt more by attending to the mott in my neighbour’s eye than I ever would have done if I’d simply spent the time polishing the beam in my own. 😉
Here’s a quote from your welcome message.
“The extremely short summary of that manuscript is it's a fantasy story set in an alternative version of earth where due to a biological quirk (the birth ratio of girls to boys is approximately 5:1) it's a highly matriarchal civilization where women are- by necessity- the rulers, soldiers, and artisans of society. The fact that most humans on this world are born with a form of magic called "casting" which enables fantastical manipulation of thermal energy to summon fire and spontaneously freeze objects further blurs the lines as the muscular advantage that male soldiers would have in combat is rendered almost useless.”Let’s have a look at your first 1000 words.
Alex, Squire to Lady Charlotte Dartmoore, breathed in the heat of the dim metallic fuselage. Energy coursed through his veins like jets of fire, constrained only by his tenuous energy casting. Before the heat could consume him, Alex redirected it into his lukewarm plastic cup. The stale air in the dingy cargo plane sharpened with cold that pricked his skin. The light fixtures above dimmed and wavered from having energy pulled away. But, at least, his tea wasn’t cold anymore.^ Alex is squire to Lady Charlotte. A young man of good stock apprenticed to a knight to be trained by them to be a knight himself. A Padawan. Right? Keep that in mind.
^ If you had powers that could interfere with the electrical systems of the plane you were flying on would you choose to use them except perhaps in an emergency?
“Mother of Earth and Heaven, do they really think boys turn feverish if they get warm tea?” It was his Knight and master, Lady Charlotte Dartmoore. With a scowl, she cupped her hands over Alex’s and applied a stronger pulse of heat. Unlike Alex, when Charlotte cast energy neither the air grew colder nor did the lights flicker. Of course, she’d do it perfectly. The tea now emitted steady wisps of steam, as hot as Alex liked it.^ I think you already told us who Charlotte is.
^ I wonder if usage wouldn’t have reduced the phrase ‘Mother of Heaven and Earth’ to the simple expletive ‘Mother!’?
^ I’m thinking Charlotte would be a mentor to Alex, so more likely to encourage him as might a mother (it’s a matriarchal society) rather than be irritated by his using his powers for something that seems as trivial as heating up a brew. If she’s irritated it’s more likely to be by his endangering the plane or drawing attention to the pair of them. Is there a code governing the use of these powers? Probably not, as you say everyone has them. If such powers were the exception rather than the norm it could introduce all sorts of dramatic possibilities.
“Thank you,” Alex mumbled. He took a sip and let the bitter black tea soak his throat. “You don’t have to help me, though. You’re a Princess and I’m just your squire.”^ seems like he’s saying this just to tell it to us the readers. Maybe his simply referring to her as ‘m’lady’ when he thanks her would establish the relationship and raise the question in the readers mind as to why she’s waiting on him and not the other way round? Questions like this are the little hooks that keep the reader wanting to stick with the story. Not all hooks have to be chapter ending cliff hangers.
Charlotte shook her head. “Former Princess.”
The denial didn’t resonate. Even here, in a drab cargo plane with nothing but bare steel and a half dozen hastily bolted leather chairs, Lady Charlotte had a presence that transformed the metal tube into a throne room. Her silver hair flowed from her head like a fine cloak and her violet eyes were sharp as a solium blade. She could have been Queen. Yet here the two of them sat, stuffed into a bare plane cabin while flying to meet her younger sister, Queen Victoria I.^ Is it Queen Victoria, or Queen Victoria 1(st). Does the latter presuppose another came along later?
^ Solium blade is good. It’s world building.
^ seems like telling and not showing. Maybe use dialog, both spoken and internal, to communicate this.
“Will the Queen by very angry,” Alex asked.
“Her,” Charlotte laughed. “You don’t have to worry about her, little Alex. Her bark’s always been worse than her bite.”
But is it, she thought, or has my sister grown teeth since last I saw her?^ That’s mine. Back to yours.
“I won’t,” Alex replied. He waited for the back-end cargo doors to open. A wave of cool, moist air rushed inside once the airlock broke. It was a welcome change from the perpetual aridness of Anderia.
Even under a cloudless sky, the cool climate of the Angleyan Home Island soothed both Alex’s skin and lungs. So many trees full of dark and vibrant leaves dotted the countryside, which itself was a wide sheet of lush, green grass.^ again worldbuilding, that’s good. But is it one paragraph or is it two?
The guard sitting at the security booth exiting the airfield slumped in her chair. Her eyelids drooped and fluttered as the woman fought half-heartedly against the desire to sleep.
Alex’s stomach dropped. This woman was already in a bad mood, and now Alex was supposed to talk to her alone.^ always omit needless word.
^ we’re seeing this from Alex’s PoV, so is it ‘drooping and fluttering’ or ‘drooped and fluttered’?
^ why’s she in bad mood?
The guard, ensconced in her booth by the exit gate, half-asleep in the mid-morning sun, caught sight of his approach, and, with a grunt, heaved herself up out of her chair.^ mine. Maybe now she has a reason to be in a bad mood?
Alex braced himself. He uttered a soft prayer to the Mother for strength. “Excuse me!” He flinched and covered his eyes, alarmed at how loud and harsh he’d sounded. The guard hated him already, didn’t she?^ as I suggested earlier it seems you yourself have found the shortened form Mother to be more natural?
“What?” She flailed her arms and nearly fell off her chair. It took her several seconds to straighten up and meet Alex’s gaze. Her blond hair was strewn all over her face. Had she been sleeping? The scent of alcohol permeated her breath. Hopefully, she wasn’t an angry drunk.
Alex forced himself to meet the woman’s gaze and slid an envelope across the desk separating him from the guard. “My… my name is Alex. I am a squire for Lady Charlotte Dartmoore. My ID number and Lady Charlotte’s credentials are here and I’ll be happy to fill out any declaration forms here.” He reached into his breast pocket and handed two envelopes to the guard.
^ too many envelopes! Is he doing magic tricks?
^ permeated? Whose voice is that? If Alex is the PoV it’s Alex’s voice. Would he use that word? The words your character uses in both internal and spoken dialog show us their character. Same for the guard. Alex can’t know what she’s thinking, but he knows what she says, how she says it, and what she does and how she does it. All that shows us her character.
The guard crooked her finger at Alex, beckoning him to come nearer the glass.
Close to she stank of cheap gin, stale sweat, and garlic. A lot of garlic.
Alex stood there, wishing the ground would open and swallow him, as, behind her regulation issue sunglasses, her eyes took a walk all over him.
‘Oh my’, she said, her eyes lingering on his crotch. ‘Aren’t you the big boy.’^ mine. Maybe says something about the society they live in and their places in it relative to each other?
“What’s taking so long?” Charlotte finally arrived wearing a backpack full of equipment.^ why is Charlotte humping the kit about. She’s a royal lady. She has a squire. Why keep a dog and bark yourself?
Alex stepped back from the booth, scurrying behind his master. “She won’t let me fill out the declaration form. You have to do it.”
^ no harm to Alex, but he’s a bit weak. Not as a character, but as a person. Why does she have him with her? I know men are in short supply, but aren’t the woman just as strong? He’s a squire, a knight in training.
Charlotte swivelled her head toward the guard. Her violet eyes narrowed into ember-like slits^ good, this is a good way to do physical description, feeding it to us as and when there’s a reason to do so.
“Well you did, and I bet you thought he belonged to some no-name officer. But guess what: my name is Charlotte Dartmoore. In case that still doesn’t register in your gelatin brain, let me tell you a little about myself. I’ve been accused of killing a member of the Royal Family before and got a Royal pardon to avoid execution. So, with that out of the way, I wonder what slap on the wrist I’d get for breaking your fat neck? That visa was requested by my sister, the Queen, so I suggest you cut the shit and make this as efficient as possible.”^ Harrison Ford once allegedly told George Lucas off over his dialog, saying that just because he (George) could write it didn’t mean that he (Harrison) could say it. First, dialog needs to sound like something someone might say, and, second, like something that character would actually say. This right here is exposition through dialog, you the author dumping information on us.
Alex grimaced. He couldn’t help but pity the poor woman. Why had Charlotte been so harsh? The woman hadn’t been wrong. Alex really should stop pretending he was still a child. Perhaps get a uniform that better covered his shoulders and hips.^ Did Alex grow so quickly they didn’t have time to let his clothes out? He needs to man up. Right now he’s hard to root for. Just seems like baggage she’s dragging around, like a rich woman with an annoying yappy little dog.
What I get from reading your first 1000 words is that its predominately world building. Establishing the reader’s place in this strange new world they’ve stumbled across. That’s fine. That’s good.
So, what is it you want to establish in our minds? Well. It’s all the above, isn’t it? It’s your story and that’s how you described it in your summary. Again, all good.
All writers, I include myself in this, struggle with show v’s tell. It’s like pornography in that no one can quite define it, but we all think we know it when we come across it. No pun intended. For me it’s the literary world’s reaction to the advent of media other than print: first radio, then cinema, and television. Now we have interactive games and virtual reality vying for our leisure hours and bucks. These media engaged the senses more than the written word ever could. The crunch of a footstep on gravel could induce terror. A curled lip portray disdain.
When I write I try to image what I or they – depending on PoV - see, hear, taste, smell, and feel if I was there looking on or if I was myself that character
So, firstly, this is a society where men are a rarity. How would that pan out? How could you show that? A matriarchal society? Same sex relationships? One partner dominant, the other submissive? What jobs would exist, which would be defunct? Virgin births? (It’s coming…) Little kids scared by men because they’ve never seen one?
‘What is it, mummy’, the little girl cried out, ducking behind her mother’s skirts.
‘Shush, darling,’ her mother soothed. ‘It’s just a man. Like in the stories.’
The child’s other mother, her patriarchal, resplendent in the uniform of a captain in the civic guard, fixed the clerk with a stern gaze, and, nodding in Alex’s direction, said, ‘What in the name of the Mother is that thing doing on my flight?’
‘That thing,’ said Charlotte, stepping in front of Alex, ‘has a name.’
The captain sneered, sized Charlotte’s arm above the elbow, and, pulling her close to, stuck her face in Charlotte’s and growled, ‘Listen, breeder. Next time you bring your pet onto my flight it goes in the hold along with all the other –
The captain’s eyes widened. Colour drained from her face. Charlotte’s travelling cloak had fallen away from her shoulder, and the captain, catching sight of the regal insignia, let go Charlotte’s arm, stepped away from her, and, bowing from the waist, stammered, ‘M’lady, I didn’t know…’
Charlotte drew herself up to full height and, looking the other woman in the face, said, ‘You ever dare interfere with me or mine again Captain and I swear by the Mother you’ll end your career counting tampons in the Northern territories.’^ mine, for what it’s worth.
^ I used the word ‘patriarchal’ to distinguish one mother from the other. I’m guessing in this society they’d need such nouns. I'm sure you can invent a better one.
^ ‘breeder’ is already in common parlance
You have good material here.
All of this is my own opinion. And you know what they say about opinions, right? 😉 You can take it or leave it. Good luck.
