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#1 |
Radically Tolkienited
Join Date: Aug 2001
Location: If home is where the heart is, and my heart is in heaven...that should answer your question. <+><
Posts: 967
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Help
I'm writing a novel revision of the 12 Dancing Princesses, and I'm having a problem with 2 things. Dialogue...the characters sound too wimpish, too...too I dunno...unrealistic. And all of the characters are perfect. They don't have any faults, or defects in their personalities...at least the good characters don't. Even Frodo had a fault or two...but my characters don't. Any ideas? Tips? Hints? Or a couple of fish across the head to tell me to quite whinging at least
![]() Cheers and thanks, Sam the at a loss for words hobbit.
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Jesus is my all in all <><+<><+<><+<><+<><+<><+ People who are so concerned with escapism do have a name...we call them jailers. ~J.R.R Tolkien Radically Saved, Totally Tolkienited GOD... BLESS... AMERICA... |
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#2 |
Alasailon
Join Date: Apr 2003
Location: college
Posts: 861
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Well it would be easier if we could actually see your story. Is it somewhere on this board or elsewhere? After some of us read it I'm sure you'll start to get some good feedback on things that need polishing up
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"and then this hobbit was walking, and then this elf jumped out of a bush and totally flipped out on him while wailing on his guitar." "Anglorfin was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his face fair and young and fearless and full of anger; his eyes were bright and keen, and his voice like music; on his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was great skill." |
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#3 |
Radically Tolkienited
Join Date: Aug 2001
Location: If home is where the heart is, and my heart is in heaven...that should answer your question. <+><
Posts: 967
|
K hold on...here ya go.
Selwyn was the first to awake the first morning on the palace grounds. It was cold (even for the middle of June) and his blanket, though made of soft warm wool was not enough to keep out the chill. He shivered and shut his eyes, but the combination of the birds singing outside and the bitter cold discouraged him from sleep. He groaned and taking his pillow hurled it at Quinn’s head. The slumbering prince started, snorted some undistinguishable words, and then buried his head under his own pillow. Selwyn shook his ruddy head, and put his bare feet on the wooden floor. He quickly withdrew them “Blast it but that ruddy floor’s freezing!” he exclaimed. Quinn groaned and rolled over, his eyes mere slits under heavy eyelids “Sel, please tell me this is a dream” Selwyn grinned as he slipped on a pair of breeches that had frozen to the consistency of ice “These blasted ruddy breeches are cold. Sorry old chum, it’s not a dream, and we’re no longer royalty. So get up, put on your clothes, and let’s get to the kitchens from some brekkist.” The prince grinned “Brekkist? Ruddy? Blasted? When did this new form of speech come into effect?” Selwyn slipped his rock like tunic over his head and winced “Careful of the clothing cully, it’ll freeze right into spot if you’re not careful. And there‘s not nothin‘ wrong with my speech. I just figured that if we‘re gonna be stable hands here we might as well blend in.” The prince rolled his eyes, but didn’t say a thing. Selwyn would soon bore of the new mode of speech, but at this particular moment there would be no arguing with him. Quinn stood and stretched, even though it felt as if his feet were freezing straight to the floor. Selwyn shook his head “You’re not screaming in pain? You’re not trotting about the room in agony? You’re feet haven’t fallen off yet? Honestly I don’t know how you manage it Quinn. I felt the bottom of my feet peel off on the floor it was so blasted ruddy cold.” Cullen reached for his breeches “I figured that since we’re going to be here for awhile we might as well get used to the cold. And I’ve been thinking Sel…it won’t do to go by our true names.” Selwyn nodded and shook a strand of red hair from his eyes. He smiled “Reid. I’ll be Reid” Quinn raised an eyebrow “Red? Suits me if it suits you.” He slipped his tunic on and shivered. Selwyn reached for his boots “Well, what about you? You can’t go around calling yourself Boy now can you?” Quinn smiled “You’re right. I just don’t have any ideas” Selwyn grinned “Cullen?” The prince nodded “You’re right. Cullen it is.” Selwyn put his last boot on with a satisfied tug, and put his arm about the prince “Very well Cullen, wha’ abou’ some brekkist?” Quinn nodded “Awroight, le’s go then righ’?” Laughing the two friends made their way up to the kitchens where warm porridge, rolls and fresh fruit awaited their pleasure. To be Continued
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Jesus is my all in all <><+<><+<><+<><+<><+<><+ People who are so concerned with escapism do have a name...we call them jailers. ~J.R.R Tolkien Radically Saved, Totally Tolkienited GOD... BLESS... AMERICA... Last edited by samwise of the shire : 07-01-2003 at 12:55 PM. |
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#4 |
Radically Tolkienited
Join Date: Aug 2001
Location: If home is where the heart is, and my heart is in heaven...that should answer your question. <+><
Posts: 967
|
Arlana woke to the sound of a robin outside her window. She had no memory of the dancing the night before, and the torn slippers had been found earlier by her maid who gave them to Ahearn, who in turn waited for his youngest daughter’s presence in the dining hall. The princesses frowned as a gilded chair draped with that days finery met her sight. The dress was dark blue and silver with poofy sleeves and a girtle so long that even Linette would’ve tripped over it. With it went blue and silver slippers and a lovely silver hair net that would’ve been beautiful holding up Brenna’s long raven locks, but would’ve looked ridiculous in Arlana’s frizzed mouse brown hair. The princess sat up in bed, stretched and stepped onto her bed stool, she stepped down only to find that during the night the mattress had shifted, and had caught the hem of her ridiculously long night gown. The princesses gave a vicious yank, and with the sound of tearing cloth Arlana fell to the floor in a jumble of torn white cloth and brown limbs “Confound it” was all she thought as she held the torn edge of her hem “That was my favorite night gown!”
Arlana quickly shrugged it off as she went to the plain brown wardrobe in the corner of her state room. She opened it with a flourish and quickly began rifling through the dresses. She found a perfectly white shift and a dark green skirt with soft brown boots and a gold head scarf. She grinned. Sarah had done as she promised. She made a mental note to increase the maid servants pay. She sighed and put on the great blue monstrosity. It wouldn’t do to have father and her 11 older sisters tell her to change if she went to breakfast in her peasants outfit. She’d change afterwards and maybe go riding or help Sam in the gardens. The princess made her way as best she could to the dining hall, tripping on the hem of her blue dress only once, and catching the long sleeve on a statue in the hall. She entered the dining room, curtsied to her father, and found her place across the table from her half sister Deirdre who stared down at her plate sulkily. Soon servants came in with breakfast. Arlana made little conversation as she filled her plate with eggs, toast, porridge, and of course an orange. Her father rose from his chair at the head of the table. All the princesses knew what was coming…in his hand Aiken held 12 pairs of ragged dancing slippers. Arlana felt like screaming. They had been given the same lecture, the same threats, the same pleas for a year and 5 months, and still the king persisted. “My dearest daughters” he began his voice resonating through the immense dining hall. “I understand that you do not know why such things happen. I have therefore resolved to do two things.” That's as far as I've gotten in this particular story(there are others that came to an equally bad end because the dialogue was so dang dad stupid)...I stopped because Aiken's speaking style has me for a loop and I'm suffering writers block. And they're all perfect...no faults...and I can't THINK of any!! It's got me so desperate that I'm asking all of you for any fault/dialogue ideas. Cheers, A Desperate, Sam
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Jesus is my all in all <><+<><+<><+<><+<><+<><+ People who are so concerned with escapism do have a name...we call them jailers. ~J.R.R Tolkien Radically Saved, Totally Tolkienited GOD... BLESS... AMERICA... |
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