Maelie (working title)

[wildbluefaerie]

Ok, so I've been working on this particular idea for a story for about a year now, and I keep scrapping everything I have and starting over because I just can't seem to get it right. This is the latest version of the opening scene of the first chapter, and I'd be really interested to hear what everyone has to say about it. This is aimed as young adult fiction. My chief concern at the moment is about the characters... they don't feel real to me yet, and I don't yet feel that the reader becomes drawn into the main character Maelie. So any comments/suggestions on that count would be really helpful, but of course I'm open to any other constructive criticism as well - flow, verisimilitude, description, etc. Thanks in advance!

I lay on my back in the cool grass and felt the gentle warmth of the sun on my face. And yet, simultaneously, and so faint as to be almost imperceptible, I could feel the hard grain of a chair beneath me and the gravel of the road on my bare feet. The dew of the grass was wet against my cheek, but my skin remained dry. But it was easy to ignore these distant sensations in the presence of the vividness of my surroundings.
Colors seemed heightened beyond their usual vivacity. The greens seemed somehow greener, the blues bluer, and the yellows brighter. They seemed somehow more full of life than their ordinary counterparts, as though the everyday versions were mere imitations of the real colors which now surrounded me. The air, too, seemed purer, sweeter than it had ever tasted, as though it had never come in contact with foul odors, as if the very concept of such a thing couldn’t even exist in the same world as that air.
Music filled the air around me, but it was subtle, perhaps because it simply was the grass, the air, the sky. It was woven into their very being, and it somehow defined them, and set them apart from the others. The music itself was sweet, but not strong enough to make it unbearably so. It was calm, but full of intensity, emotion, beauty.
I loved it. I thought nothing could ever more pleasant than the world in which I lay. The music began to fade, as I knew it must, and I sighed, a mixture of enjoyment and acute disappointment. It was the worst aspect to anything wonderful: it always had to end.
As the notes grew further apart and gradually decrescendoed into nothing, the world around me appeared the sag, in disappointment mirroring my own. The colors became mundane, common colors, and the air began to gain smells of smoke, waste, and unwashed bodies. The lovely softness of the grass beneath my back was gradually replaced by the smooth hardness of the chair, and the small stones determined to leave their mark on my feet.
I blinked, and the world around me had completely transformed. Gone was the meadow and the clear sky, replaced by what was, on an average day, a simple town square, in the center of an average sized village filled with average people. Today, however, it was a good deal more interesting than its usual state, for it was overflowing with jugglers, acrobats, magicians, and merchants, all equipped with something intended for no other purpose than to delight the festival goers. None of these, in my mind, however, compared to the minstrels.
The troupe that had just finished playing was receiving a loud and enthusiastic round of applause. I was still caught up in the vestiges of the magic left by the music, but I reluctantly shook it off, and joined in. It had been a truly excellent performance, the best of any at the Spring Festival so far as I could remember.
The minstrels were wiping down their instruments and lovingly placing them into their cases. I made a face – there would be no more music today - and turned to look at the girl sitting next to me. She had pulled a hairpin from the centaur’s knot on her head, and was using it to clean the dirt from under her fingernails.
I rolled my eyes at her, amused and exasperated. “Oh, come on, then, you can’t find it that tedious, Raven.”
Raven gave an exaggerated, self-sacrificing sigh and slowly slid the hairpin back into its proper place in the raven-black hair that was her namesake. Her given name was Lara, but I'd never heard anyone call her that.
“You’re lucky that I’m such a devoted, selfless friend, Maelie, to come and sit through these dull displays.” Raven remarked with her natural flair for the dramatic. “You know I care nothing for music.”
I fought the impulse to roll my eyes again. “You enjoy it just as much as the next person, Raven, and you know it.”
“True, true,” she agreed, inspecting her newly cleaned fingernails, and apparently unaware she had contradicted herself. “Now can we please go look at the merchants’ wares? There isn't much time left before the picnic, and we've wasted so much time already.”
I tried to imitate Raven’s melodramatic sigh. “If we must. I suppose it’s now my turn to be the devoted, selfless friend.” I tried to hold a serious, resigned expression, but a giggle burst free.
Raven only watched me, grinning, amused as ever when I tried to imitate her. I had always thought Raven was wasted as an innkeeper’s daughter; she would taken like a duck to water in a player’s troupe.
I stood from my chair and smoothed my skirts, the fabric far softer and cleaner than I was accustomed to, for I always saved my only nice gown for festival days to prevent it from being sullied like my other gowns.
Raven rose as well, and I followed her away from the stage set up in the corner of the square and into the throng. Truly I did not mind in the least looking at the merchants’ wares, any more than Raven minded listening to the minstrels. For while merchant caravans often came through our small town on the way to the capital, they usually carried only mundane items for the household. It was only now, at the yearly Spring Festival, that the true wonders were displayed.
We approached a merchant's stall which sold cheap magical trinkets that were fascinating nonetheless: small figurines of dancers who actually moved, slowly repeating their graceful movements time and again; a ball that whistled cheerfully whenever it was thrown in the air; a device that would tell you when your meat had heated sufficiently; a small light for reading that burned without oil or wood.
It was simple, commonplace magic that, I supposed, those in large cities probably never thought twice about. It was only rarely seen in my village, and so something of a novelty, but even so it could never compare to the deep set magic wrought by music, which even the most leanred magician had yet to fully understand.
“Come on,” said Raven, impatiently, and I realized I’d been lost in thought. “I think I see Gavyn.”
I looked up from the table of magical oddities and, sure enough, striding towards us was a young man, grinning widely. “I just succeeded in selling the last of my grain to one of the merchants,” he informed us, something of a smug smile on his face.
Raven tsked. “Only a farmer would even think of working on a festival day. It’s our only time of year to really relax, Gavyn, enjoy it!”
Gavyn scoffed. “So says the innkeeper’s daughter who will surely have to help wait tables tonight because of all the surplus guests.”
Raven could not be fazed so easily. “Ah, but that is not until this evening, and all of the enjoyment is to be had now,” she retorted.
“She’s right, you know, Gavyn,” I said, “While you’ve been off selling grain, we’ve been listening to music, and –”
Gavyn’s groan cut me off mid-sentence. “Don’t say it. Shopping.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You don’t think I picked this time to work by accident, do you?” He winked conspiratorially at me. Raven cuffed him lightly on the shoulder.
“Oh, stop, shopping with us is not that bad.”
“Of course not,” he said mildly, raising one brow. “But, see, now I’ve managed to avoid it and sell all my wheat. A day of many accomplishments if I do say so.” The smug smile was back.
“Don’t,” I said, and Gavyn chuckled.
“Let’s just go and enjoy the picnic, shall we? Since Raven is so put out that I’ve missed all the fun, we’d better not miss this part.”
The picnic at the annual Spring Festival was a old, outdated (in my mind) tradition that dated back who knew how many generations, and it was not one I was particularly fond of. Each young lady made a picnic basket, decorated in spring colors, and filled with a homemade picnic supper. It would then be auctioned off to the highest bidder, who would win not only the basket and the food within, but also the company of the young woman who made it.
For those like Raven, whose simple beauty seemed to come naturally and without effort, there was never any shortage of young men falling over each other – and themselves – to bid on their baskets. For those like myself, however – well, I liked to believe my beauty lay within, and the young men were just too daft to see it. But despite telling myself this repeatedly every year, I could never quite overcome the sting of hurt and embarrassment that always ensued when no one bid on my basket, trying with little success to convince myself I didn’t care, when even Gavyn bid on whichever girl he was sweet on. I had few hopes that this year would be any different.
I forced a smile for the sake of my friends. They truly enjoyed the auction and picnic, and I didn’t want to ruin it for them with my whining.
The auctioneer, a skinny reed of a man who, for the remainder of the year, ran the only mercantile in town, stood on the stage where the minstrels had performed, arranging the baskets on the stage in a manner pleasing to the eye. I eyed my basket, wondering what my mother had fixed this year. Typically the lady in question was to do the cooking for her own basket, but my skills at the cooking fire were so dismal that my mother took pity on me.
The magicians, jugglers, and acrobats had all finished their performances; the merchants were closing their stalls. The local villagers and the strangers from neighboring villages were all crowding in around the stage in anticipation of the auction.
I sighed. I would prefer the minstrels to come back instead. Gavyn and Raven pretended not to notice, watching the auctioneer bring up the first basket for bidding.
“All right, then, ladies and gentlemen.” The auctioneer’s voice was magnified by another of those magical trinkets, and it carried easily over the crowd. “Let’s begin with this lovely little basket right here. Do I hear five coppers?”
I looked around for the owner of the basket, and spotted Mara, the blacksmith’s daughter, clearly trying not to look self-conscious, but blushing furiously. Traditionally no one was to know which girl made each basket, but everyone always knew.
The basket was quickly purchased by a young man blushing equally as furiously, and from there time raced on. Raven’s basket, as usual, went for an outrageous sum of money, and the young man who bought it had a look on his face suggesting he couldn't quite believe his luck. I shook my head fondly, and glanced at Gavyn standing next to me. He smiled, then reverted his attention back to the stage. I wondered why he hadn’t bid yet – several young ladies’ baskets which he had bid on in years past had come and gone, and he hadn’t bid a single copper. I mentally shrugged. Perhaps he had newfound interest in someone else and hadn’t yet told Raven or me about it.
Several more baskets had been sold while I was pondering this, and I suppressed a groan as the auctioneer pulled mine from atop the pile.
“Well, here we have a quaint little basket, and from the smells issuing from it, a delectable meal. Five coppers! Anyone?”
For one agonizing moment, silence spread over the square. I tried not to squirm and to ignore the eyes covertly – and overtly – trained on me. I was just wishing that I could melt into the ground when a gravelly voice called out, “Five coppers!”
I glanced, startled, at Gavyn beside me, who quickly tried to disguise his surprised look. I searched the crowd, trying to locate the speaker, and finally spotting him near the front.
The man stood with his back to me, facing the stage, his arm in the air to make his bid. I couldn’t tell much about him, except that he was definitely no one I recognized.
The auctioneer cleared his throat. “Five coppers, then, do I hear ten coppers?”
“Fifteen!” said a new voice to my left. I stared in shock – the voice had come from Gavyn. He stared resolutely at the stage, refusing to meet my gaze. I didn’t know whether to be touched, embarrassed, or outraged. I frowned – outrage was the easiest. I wasn’t at all sure which was worse – being bid on out of pity or having no bids at all.
The stranger seemed quite determined to win my basket – was it possible he didn’t realize who it belonged to? – but he eventually gave in when Gavyn forced the price up to an entire silver. A silver! Even Raven’s basket had only gone for a silver and a half. Did Gavyn even possess an entire silver?
I stood dazed through the remainder of the auction, aware that Gavyn stood next to me, my basket held lightly in his hands, and for all I could tell completely at ease. I shook myself out of it when the auction ended and people began to disperse, families and couples alike heading out to enjoy their picnics.
Gavyn glanced at me and gestured that I follow, ignoring what I’m sure was a bewildered expression on my face, and strode off into the crowd.
I hurried to catch up. My anger had faded, leaving only a trace of embarrassment. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know.”
He chuckled. “It was worth it just to see the look on your face.”
I glared good-naturedly at him. “I didn’t want your pity bid.”
Gavyn’s expression morphed from amused to serious in a heartbeat, with a glint in his eye I couldn’t quite identify. Hurt? “It wasn’t a pity bid, Maelie. How could you think that? We’re friends. We’ve always been friends, ever since our mothers changes our diapers together.”
“But you’ve never done it before,” I pointed out softly. “You’ve always bid on someone you’re sweet on.”
“Which is why I thought it was high time I did. Besides, you and I don’t get much quality time together, just us two.”” He winked, his serious expression gone.
I gave him a smile in return as we settled under a tree to enjoy the picnic. We had gone a fair ways from the center of town, but I could still catch glimpses of other couples sharing their baskets, often shyly glancing at each other. I flushed, and stared at the ground to hide it.
“Well, thank you, Gavyn,” I said, thinking how unsettling it was having the picnic with a young man instead of my family, even if that young man was someone I had been in diapers with, as Gavyn had been so kind as to mention.
“You’re welcome.” His gaze was on the basket.
Trying unsuccessfully to shake off the awkwardness of the moment, I reached into the basket to discover what my mother had packed. My stomach growled in anticipation: meat pies, soft bread with actual butter, a true luxury, dried fruit and nuts, and a bottle of rice wine. As I finished laying it all out, I noticed a woman headed toward us, her wisps of graying hair whipping in the wind, her steps hurried and her expression harried.
“Mother?” I questioned as she approached.
“Oh, Maelie, Gavyn, there you are.” If she was surprised at my picnic companion, she didn’t show it.
“Where have you been all day, Mother? I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Oh, last minute crisis back at the farm. I discovered a whole next of mice in the last of our flour, and I’ve been trying to track down someone with some to sell.” Her lips pursed at this unforeseen expense. “I heard you were selling your surplus today, Gavyn.”
Gavyn looked apologetic. “Yes, but I actually sold the last of it this afternoon.”
Mother sighed. “Well, thank you anyway. I’m sure I’ll be able to find some one with wheat yet to sell – most have been too preoccupied with the festival to even talk to me about it today.”
I frowned, concerned. “Why didn’t you just leave it until tomorrow then? It’s not as if we need the flour this very day.”
Mother gave a weary smile. “Yes, well, I never can seem to let these things go until they’re dealt with.” She glanced down at the food. “I’ll be getting to the picnic, I suppose. I’m sure you’re father is wondering what’s happened to me.”
“Say hello for me – I haven’t seen him all day either.”
Mother bent and kissed me on the forehead. “Certainly. Enjoy the picnic. You too, Gavyn. I’ll see you both later.”
I smiled affectionately at my mother’s retreating back. “She works too hard. I worry, but there’s no stopping her, even on festival day.” I jabbed Gavyn playfully with my elbow. “Of course, you only worked on festival day for your own benefit, admit it!”
Gavyn wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Well, it was either work, or be subjected to hours upon hours of Raven analyzing every ware for sale. I prefer work to torture.”
I laughed, and stuffed a pastry into his mouth.

[Amnesia]

Just as a general suggestion, I would say to keep the beginning you have right now and forge on ahead with the rest of the idea so as to get it written out rather than having to continually scrap your work and start from square one. That way, you aren't stuck in an endless cycle where the novel never gets off the ground. Plus there's always editing and re-writing to get this first scene exactly the way you want.

That's what's been recommended to me, anyway. I've had the same problem. >.<

Now, as for the actual opening. Here are my general comments:

After reading through it and then going back along it a few times, it struck me as a very soft opening with little to no plot in sight; the only exception being that stranger in the crowd who I have a strong feeling will indeed pop up later on given the girl's auction history.

Also leads into another thing -- her rather empty history with the baskets does make the scene predictable compared to one with hits and misses. Not necessarily a bad thing but something to keep in mind so as to side-step a bit of a cliche and blur the expectations. Also might be interesting to delve into the possibility of disastrous past experiences where people have bid on the basket as well. Perhaps someone Maelie absolutely loathed bid/won her basket in the past?

Concerning the characters themselves, they each stand out nicely and make good first impressions from Raven's vanitous self to the need of Maelie's mother taking care of problems right away to Gavyn's charming impishness. Maelie herself is well-formed as being a bit low on the self-esteem given her looks and generally the sweet, understanding one. Liked how you handled the characters and their interactions.

However, one particular sub-scene that seemed out of place and just simply random was Maelie's mother coming up to them during the picnic. She didn't appear to come up to say "Hi" or to explicitly say she'd been looking for them or Maelie's father (for whatever reason she is or isn't) but rather, it came across as her "stumbling" over them on their picnic. Not sure what the point was in that beyond introducing her character. That sub-scene itself sticks out compared to the rest of the opening.

For the first couple of paragraphs, it does a nice job of setting up the atmosphere but at the same time, I can't help but ask: What is the point behind the scene? Particularly going from the the illusion of being in a field to the town? Does it speak to the power of music, to some rich inner facet of Maelie's character, some personal significance, does it tie into overarching themes, or something else entirely? It sets down some lovely descriptions but then it starts all over again in describing the town in addition to the festival atmosphere. I would suggest either axing it or giving it more explicit significance otherwise, to me at least, it seems a tad extraneous. Then, juxtaposing that minute and detailed description of that personal experience of music/the field with the on-goings of the town, it seemed like a little more was due to the setting of the town.

In regards to style, the work as a while does tend to be on the wordy side. This is can be bad in that there are just a lot of extra words like 'only' and 'for'. (e.g."...for I always save my only nice gown..." and ) "Only" isn't much of a problem for the first and last thirds of the story, but around the middle, you get a fair concentration of 'only's -- do a document word search with a highlight and you'll see what I mean. Couple of those 'only' words need to go. As for 'for' it's actually kinda of quaint and proper for Maelie's manner of speech in her narration - does crop up a more often than it needs to be though, I think.

Now for specifics:

Colors seemed heightened beyond their usual vivacity. The greens seemed somehow greener, the blues bluer, and the yellows brighter.

The first two sentences strike me as a tad on the redundant side, with the second sentence a more specific version of the first. I'd recommend getting rid of one. Also, in regards to the transition from the heightened, illusory perceptions of colours/air/etc. to the "mundane" and '"common", I would tweak with all those phrases involving 'seemed' in that second paragraph. That way, it's a more complete and vivid transformation from one state to the other without being half-hearted or mild. Also, in the comparisons themselves, 'the yellows brighter' won me over versus the 'the blues bluer'. Perhaps something like 'the blues deeper', as in vein with the yellows?

Music filled the air around me, but it was subtle, perhaps because it simply was the grass, the air, the sky. It was woven into their very being, and it somehow defined them, and set them apart from the others. The music itself was sweet, but not strong enough to make it unbearably so. It was calm, but full of intensity, emotion, beauty.

And here, again, even though it tied in with the atmosphere it seems somewhat superfluous in nature. I wasn't quite fond of it personally, but that's probably just me. Regardless, there also seems to be so much going on in these various descriptions and re-descriptions of the music that I felt lost in it, but not in a really pleasant or smooth way. I think the wordiness, particularly in that first line, is part of that. Maybe par it down a bit and stream line the whole thing?

Raven gave an exaggerated, self-sacrificing sigh and slowly slid the hairpin back into its proper place in the raven-black hair that was her namesake. Her given name was Lara, but I'd never heard anyone call her that.

“You’re lucky that I’m such a devoted, selfless friend, Maelie, to come and sit through these dull displays.”

A bit of redundancy here. First with the "self-sacrificing" observation and with the comment from Raven herself as being "selfless". I would get rid of one. Also, would probably ax the "raven-black" and just go with "black" or something of similar description. The comment about it being "her namesake" makes it redundant. When you go back over it, be sure to look for those sort of descriptions that do the same thing twice over.

Also, fair bit of awkward phrasing, spelling mistakes, and such. Some examples I caught as I went through:

And yet, simultaneously, and so faint...

...but my skin remained dry. But It was easy...

...she would taken like a duck to water in a player’s troupe

For While merchant caravans often

...which even the most leanred magician...

But overall, I thought this opening was quite quaint and cute. The ideas are also very nice as well - good for the audience your aiming for as well, young adult. I say you should keep writing and not scrap this unless you really feel you really need to when you start the editing process. Well done I say. Thank you for sharing this. Hope to see more.

Also, reminder - all of these comments of mine are purely suggestions and should be taken or discarded as you see fit.

[wildbluefaerie]

First of all, thank you! It's been a long time since I've received such an in-depth and helpful review. It's much appreciated. And definitely thanks for the advice about just forging on with what I have... sometimes it's too easy to get caught up with trying to get the beginning perfect.

After reading through it and then going back along it a few times, it struck me as a very soft opening with little to no plot in sight; the only exception being that stranger in the crowd who I have a strong feeling will indeed pop up later on given the girl's auction history.

Yes, it definitely hasn't been given any direction as far as plot goes yet. That actually starts to be developed in the next scene, which I haven't finish writing yet, or I would have posted it. And actually in my current plot outline, the stranger in the crowd actually has no purpose whatsoever beyond this opening scene. The only real reason he's there is to have someone for Gavyn to bid against - this is why I didn't give much detail to who he was - whether she liked the look of him, or if he was cruel/kind, etc.

Actually, a lot of the things you've mentioned are reasons why I'm not too confident in this scene. Maybe it would help if I listed my goals for the first chapter (some of which won't be met in this initial opening scene, but in the next two that I'm still working on writing).
-To establish the setting
-To give initial descriptions of the supporting characters of Maelie's family, Gavyn, and Raven
-To show Maelie's socioeconomic background
-To show Maelie's main character traits - low self-esteem, caring, somewhat timid, etc.
-To establish Maelie's love for music and her desire to learn to create music herself, but her reluctance to leave the familiarity of her family and home to pursue this, even given the opportunity (this will mostly come out in the scene I'm writing at the moment)

Also leads into another thing -- her rather empty history with the baskets does make the scene predictable compared to one with hits and misses. Not necessarily a bad thing but something to keep in mind so as to side-step a bit of a cliche and blur the expectations. Also might be interesting to delve into the possibility of disastrous past experiences where people have bid on the basket as well. Perhaps someone Maelie absolutely loathed bid/won her basket in the past?

The reason I introduced the idea of the auction was to establish Maelie's character, but also her relationship to Gavyn - though I've wondered if it doesn't really work very well as the introduction to that. I was also a little hesitant about it because the vast majority of the story will not be taking place in this town and will not deal with the picnic at all - she will have to deal with her self-esteem, but it will come out in a completely different way. It was simply the only way I could really think to introduce the idea of Maelie's insecurity. You might be right, though, that perhaps illustrating a few disastrous past picnics might be a good way to illuminate her character.

For the first couple of paragraphs, it does a nice job of setting up the atmosphere but at the same time, I can't help but ask: What is the point behind the scene? Particularly going from the the illusion of being in a field to the town? Does it speak to the power of music, to some rich inner facet of Maelie's character, some personal significance, does it tie into overarching themes, or something else entirely?

Hmm... this will become more apparent later. I opened the chapter with this description of music because music will be central to the plot. In this world, magic and music are intertwined in such a way that music can create these illusions - and not always illusions of nature, but to tell stories and such, so the listener actually feels that they're part of the story. Eventually Maelie discovers that she can somehow use her music to do more than create illusion, but to actually affect the world around her.

Then, juxtaposing that minute and detailed description of that personal experience of music/the field with the on-goings of the town, it seemed like a little more was due to the setting of the town.

Do you mean you think I should describe the town a bit more?

However, one particular sub-scene that seemed out of place and just simply random was Maelie's mother coming up to them during the picnic. She didn't appear to come up to say "Hi" or to explicitly say she'd been looking for them or Maelie's father (for whatever reason she is or isn't) but rather, it came across as her "stumbling" over them on their picnic. Not sure what the point was in that beyond introducing her character. That sub-scene itself sticks out compared to the rest of the opening.

Yeah, I think you're right. The only real purpose of this is, well, it's twofold - to establish her mother's character, but also to show a bit of Maelie's background, in that she grew up on a farm, and they're rather poor. This is something of a leftover from my original version of the opening, where Maelie is sent by her mother into town to buy more flower before the festival begins, but I think it worked better in that situation. Maybe I should remove her mother's visit and simply have her mention the flour and the mice to Maelie when she joins her family later (the scene I'm still writing). It might fit better that way.

Concerning the characters themselves, they each stand out nicely and make good first impressions from Raven's vanitous self to the need of Maelie's mother taking care of problems right away to Gavyn's charming impishness. Maelie herself is well-formed as being a bit low on the self-esteem given her looks and generally the sweet, understanding one. Liked how you handled the characters and their interactions.

Thanks! That's encouraging. I was worried that they were too flat and stereotypical.

In regards to style, the work as a while does tend to be on the wordy side.

*sigh* Yes. Sometimes in my attempts to be eloquent I'm just wordy. I'll read through it again and try to minimize that. I will also take into consideration all of the specific alterations you pointed out. Ok, so I'm going to try to edit what I have and finish the sections I'm working on, and hopefully post the entirety of the chapter up here today or tomorrow so that hopefully the whole thing will make a little more sense and have some direction.

[Amnesia]

-To establish the setting
-To give initial descriptions of the supporting characters of Maelie's family, Gavyn, and Raven
-To show Maelie's socioeconomic background
-To show Maelie's main character traits - low self-esteem, caring, somewhat timid, etc.
-To establish Maelie's love for music and her desire to learn to create music herself, but her reluctance to leave the familiarity of her family and home to pursue this, even given the opportunity (this will mostly come out in the scene I'm writing at the moment)

Actually I think you got through a good portion of those goals well. Got the initial descriptions down well without dragging on and on about each individual - a taste of their characters without throwing the entirety of who they are into the readers face; can pick up on the Maelie's background with her wearing her only nice dress for special occasions, with who her friends are/their backgrounds, and (I'm assuming later) from her mother's comments in addition to her character as before in the previous review.

Only thing I can really pick at is setting, but that's just me being nit-picky. >.<

Hmm... this will become more apparent later. I opened the chapter with this description of music because music will be central to the plot. In this world, magic and music are intertwined in such a way that music can create these illusions - and not always illusions of nature, but to tell stories and such, so the listener actually feels that they're part of the story. Eventually Maelie discovers that she can somehow use her music to do more than create illusion, but to actually affect the world around her.

Ah-ha, now it makes a great deal more sense. Roll with it I say. Since the piece is an opening and there haven't been any big themes or elements to tie it to before, that's probably what made it stick out earlier for me. Haha, that's the thing with snippets -- sometimes need the whole to make sense of the pieces.

Do you mean you think I should describe the town a bit more?

Personally, I was leaning that way, but it's totally up to you. (As it should be.) Seeing how those initial paragraphs were establishing the music theme and its prominence really helped make more sense of the intricate detail placed into those paragraphs in the first place compared to the town itself. I would still say the town is a tad lacking in giving a solid picture of itself, at least for me - others will probably beg to differ. Little more even balance to it is my opinion. =P

Ok, so I'm going to try to edit what I have and finish the sections I'm working on, and hopefully post the entirety of the chapter up here today or tomorrow so that hopefully the whole thing will make a little more sense and have some direction.

Look forward to it. Haha, just hope you don't get sick of hearing back from me. =P

[wildbluefaerie]

Actually I think you got through a good portion of those goals well. ... Only thing I can really pick at is setting, but that's just me being nit-picky.

Great! Though just out of curiosity, what exactly would you nit-pick about the setting?

I would still say the town is a tad lacking in giving a solid picture of itself, at least for me - others will probably beg to differ.

I think you're right - I don't want to bore the reader with exhaustive descriptions (even if the writing itself is beautiful, I tend to get bored myself when reading long descriptions - this is why I still can't get through all of Lord of the Rings), but I also rapidly transition between, like you say, a detailed description of the musical illusion to virtually no details about the town - I think the only thing I really say about it is "average." lol. I'll see what I can do when I get to the edit (haven't got there yet, I've been a bit busier than I thought I would be, so it might take me a few days. I might get to it tonight.... if I'm really efficient with my work!)

Haha, just hope you don't get sick of hearing back from me

Hey, as long as you keep dishing out useful criticisms, never! :wink:

[Amnesia]

Originally Posted by wildbluefaerie

Great! Though just out of curiosity, what exactly would you nit-pick about the setting?

....

I think you're right - I don't want to bore the reader with exhaustive descriptions (even if the writing itself is beautiful, I tend to get bored myself when reading long descriptions - this is why I still can't get through all of Lord of the Rings), but I also rapidly transition between, like you say, a detailed description of the musical illusion to virtually no details about the town - I think the only thing I really say about it is "average." lol. I'll see what I can do when I get to the edit (haven't got there yet, I've been a bit busier than I thought I would be, so it might take me a few days. I might get to it tonight.... if I'm really efficient with my work!)

Just picking at the town bit, I think. Is it big, 'suburban', small, etc.? The kinda atmosphere it has? (Thinking small since the everyone seems to know everyone; even with the seeming influx of traveling festival goers, judging by the bustle around the inns.) And I'm actually pretty terrified of going on those long never-ending description tangents as well to be honest. =/ Tolkien was definitely writing for an audience with a greater attention span than my current one, I think... Oh Internet, how you've ruined me.

Of late, I've actually been playing with the idea of just an initial bit of setting like you had right after the opening paragraphs on music, and then slipping in concise but image-forming descriptions in two to three sentences in lulls between character actions rather than doing crazy long blocks. Kinda like garnishing in cooking -- spread it all out rather than just have a huge lump of basil and thyme on top of a well-cooked chicken. Course, I've never roasted an entire chicken in my life and I'm pretty sure I'd turn the thing to hefty batch of charcoal, but eh, thought I'd throw that idea out there if it'd help/be something to try. *shrug* I am by far no expert in the least. =P

Hey, as long as you keep dishing out useful criticisms, never! :wink:

Awesome sauce.

[wildbluefaerie]

Originally Posted by Amnesia

Just picking at the town bit, I think. Is it big, 'suburban', small, etc.? The kinda atmosphere it has? (Thinking small since the everyone seems to know everyone; even with the seeming influx of traveling festival goers, judging by the bustle around the inns.)

Well, you seem to have got it down, anyway.... it is a small village, but it generally sees a lot of visitors, not just because of the festival, but because it's along the main road to the capital - that's why they even have an inn.

Tolkien was definitely writing for an audience with a greater attention span than my current one, I think... Oh Internet, how you've ruined me.

Lol, so true...though I do tend to have a better time with the Hobbit. It's a bit easier to get through.

Of late, I've actually been playing with the idea of just an initial bit of setting like you had right after the opening paragraphs on music, and then slipping in concise but image-forming descriptions in two to three sentences in lulls between character actions rather than doing crazy long blocks.

Definitely.... that's how it should be ideally. I usually forget to do so and have to go back and put it in...

Kinda like garnishing in cooking -- spread it all out rather than just have a huge lump of basil and thyme on top of a well-cooked chicken. Course, I've never roasted an entire chicken in my life and I'm pretty sure I'd turn the thing to hefty batch of charcoal, but eh, thought I'd throw that idea out there if it'd help/be something to try.

Lol, I never have either, but it sounds reasonable!

[wildbluefaerie]

At long last... I've finished the chapter! I know I said it would be done like 5 days ago but.... you know how these things go. Anyway, the chapter has been completed, though it's a fairly rough draft. Enjoy!

Chapter One

I lay on my back in the cool grass and felt the gentle warmth of the sun on my face. Yet simultaneously, so faint as to be almost imperceptible, I could feel the hard grain of a chair beneath me and the gravel of the road rough against my bare feet. The dew of the grass was wet against my cheek, but my skin remained dry. It was easy to ignore these distant sensations in the presence of the vividness of my surroundings.
Colors were heightened beyond their usual vivacity. They were somehow more full of life than their ordinary counterparts, as though the everyday versions were mere imitations of the real colors which now surrounded me. The air, too, was purer, sweeter than it had ever tasted, not marred with foul odors, as if the very concept of such a thing couldn’t even exist in the same world as that air.
Music filled the air around me, but it was subtle, perhaps because it simply was the grass, the air, the sky. It was woven into their very being; it somehow defined them. The music itself was sweet, but not strong enough to make it unbearably so. It was calm, but full of intensity, emotion, beauty.
I loved it. I thought nothing could ever be more pleasant than the world in which I lay. The music began to fade, as I knew it must, and I sighed, a mixture of enjoyment and disappointment. It was the worst aspect to anything wonderful: it always had an inevitable end.
As the notes grew further apart and gradually decrescendoed into nothing, the world around me appeared to sag in discontent mirroring my own. The colors became mundane and common, and the air began to gain smells of smoke, waste, and unwashed bodies. The lovely softness of the grass beneath my back was gradually replaced by the smooth hardness of the chair and the small stones forever determined to leave their mark on my feet.
I blinked, and the world around me had completely transformed. Gone was the meadow and the clear sky, replaced by a simple town square. A large well occupied the center of the square, and at its base tiny flowers showed the first evidence of spring. The clouds were few and the sun had finally begun to warm the chill winter air.
As the well was a central meeting place for the town folk, the town square was always busy with people meeting to gossip and take a few minutes from their work as they drew their water. Today, however, it was a good deal more interesting than its usual state: it was overflowing with jugglers, acrobats, magicians, and merchants, all equipped with something intended for no other purpose than to delight the festival goers. None of these, in my mind, however, compared to the minstrels.
The troupe that had just finished playing was receiving a loud and enthusiastic round of applause. I was still caught up in the vestiges of the magic left by the music, but I reluctantly shook it off, and joined in. It had been a genuinely excellent performance, the best of any at the Spring Festival so far as I could remember.
The minstrels were wiping down their instruments and lovingly placing them into their cases. I made a face – there would be no more music today – and turned to look at the girl sitting next to me. She had pulled a hairpin from the centaur’s knot on her head, and was using it to clean the dirt from under her fingernails.
I rolled my eyes at her, amused and exasperated. “Oh, come on, then, you can’t find it that tedious, Raven.”
Raven gave an exaggerated sigh and slowly slid the hairpin back into its proper place in the black hair that was her namesake. Her given name was Mara, but I'd never heard anyone call her that.
“You’re lucky that I’m such a devoted, selfless friend, Maelie, to come and sit through these dull displays.” Raven remarked with her natural flair for the dramatic. “You know I care nothing for music.”
I fought the impulse to roll my eyes again. “You enjoy it just as much as the next person, Raven, and you know it.”
“True, true,” she agreed, inspecting her newly cleaned fingernails, and apparently unaware she had contradicted herself. “Now can we please go look at the merchants’ wares? There isn't much time left before the picnic, and we've wasted so much time already.”
I tried to imitate Raven’s melodramatic sigh. “If we must. I suppose it’s now my turn to be the devoted, selfless friend.” I tried to hold a serious, resigned expression, but a giggle burst free.
Raven only watched me, grinning, amused as ever when I tried to imitate her. I had always thought Raven was wasted as an innkeeper’s daughter; she would have taken like a duck to water in a player’s troupe.
I stood from my chair and smoothed my skirts, the fabric far softer and cleaner than I was accustomed to, for I saved my sole nice gown for festival days to prevent it from being sullied like my other frocks.
Raven rose as well, and I followed her away from the stage set up in the corner of the square and into the throng. I didn't mind in the least looking at the merchants’ wares, any more than Raven minded listening to the minstrels. While merchant caravans often came through our small town on the way to the capital, they usually carried only mundane items for the household. It was now, at the yearly Spring Festival, that the true wonders were displayed.
We approached a merchant's stall which sold cheap magical trinkets that were fascinating nonetheless: small figurines of dancers who actually moved, slowly repeating their graceful movements time and again; a ball that whistled cheerfully whenever it was thrown in the air; a device that would tell you when your meat had heated sufficiently; a small light for reading that burned without oil or wood.
It was simple, commonplace magic that, I supposed, those in large cities probably never thought twice about. It was rarely seen in my village, and so something of a novelty, but even so it could never compare to the deep set magic wrought by music, which even the most learned magician had yet to fully understand.
“Come on,” said Raven, impatiently, and I realized I’d been lost in thought. “I think I see Gavyn.”
I looked up from the table of magical oddities and, sure enough, striding towards us was a young man, grinning widely. “I just succeeded in selling the last of my grain to one of the merchants,” he informed us, a rather smug smile on his face.
Raven tsked at him. “Only a farmer would even think of working on a festival day. It’s our one time of year to really relax, Gavyn, enjoy it!”
Gavyn scoffed. “So says the innkeeper’s daughter who will surely have to help wait tables tonight because of all the surplus guests.”
Raven could not be fazed so easily. “Ah, but that is not until this evening, and all of the enjoyment is to be had now,” she retorted.
“She’s right, you know, Gavyn,” I said, “While you’ve been off selling grain, we’ve been listening to music, and –”
Gavyn’s groan cut me off mid-sentence. “Don’t say it. Shopping.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You don’t think I picked this time to work by accident, do you?” He winked conspiratorially at me. Raven cuffed him lightly on the shoulder.
“Oh, stop, shopping with us is not that bad.”
“Of course not,” he said mildly, raising one brow. “But, see, now I’ve managed to avoid it and sell all my wheat. A day of many accomplishments if I do say so.” The smug smile was back.
“Don’t,” I said, and Gavyn chuckled.
“Let’s just go and enjoy the picnic, shall we? Since Raven is so put out that I’ve missed all the fun, we’d better not miss this part.”
The picnic at the annual Spring Festival was a ancient, outdated (in my mind) tradition that dated back who knew how many generations, and it was not one I was particularly fond of. Each young lady made a picnic basket, decorated in spring colors, and filled with a homemade picnic supper. It would then be auctioned off to the highest bidder, who would win not only the basket and the food within, but also the company of the young woman who made it.
For those like Raven, whose simple beauty seemed to come naturally and without effort, there was never any shortage of young men falling over each other – and themselves – to bid on their baskets. For those like myself, however – well, I liked to believe my beauty lay within, and the young men were just too daft to see it. But despite telling myself this repeatedly every year, I could never quite overcome the sting of hurt and embarrassment that always ensued when no one bid on my basket. I had few hopes that this year would be any different.
I forced a smile for the sake of my friends. They truly enjoyed the auction and picnic, and I didn’t want to ruin it for them with my whining.
The auctioneer, a skinny reed of a man who, for the remainder of the year, ran the only mercantile in town, stood on the stage where the minstrels had performed, arranging the baskets on the stage in a manner pleasing to the eye. I eyed my basket, wondering what my mother had fixed this year. Typically the lady in question was to do the cooking for her own basket, but my skills at the cooking fire were so dismal that my mother took pity on me.
The magicians, jugglers, and acrobats had all finished their performances; the merchants were closing their stalls. The local villagers and the strangers from neighboring villages were all crowding in around the stage in anticipation of the auction.
I resisted the urge to sigh wistfully. I would prefer the minstrels to come back instead.
“All right, then, ladies and gentlemen.” The auctioneer’s voice was magnified by another of those magical trinkets, and it carried easily over the crowd. “Let’s begin with this lovely little basket right here. Do I hear five coppers?”
I looked around for the owner of the basket, and spotted the blacksmith’s daughter, clearly trying not to look self-conscious, but blushing furiously. Tradition stated that no one was to know which girl made each basket, but everyone always knew.
The basket was quickly purchased by a young man blushing equally as furiously, and from there time raced uncomfortably on. Raven’s basket, as usual, went for an outrageous sum of money, and the young man who bought it had a look on his face suggesting he couldn't quite believe his luck. I shook my head fondly, and glanced at Gavyn standing next to me. He smiled, then reverted his attention back to the stage. I wondered why he hadn’t bid yet – several young ladies’ baskets which he had bid on in years past had come and gone, and he hadn’t bid a single copper. I mentally shrugged. Perhaps he had newfound interest in someone else and hadn’t yet told Raven or me about it.
Several more baskets had been sold while I was pondering this, and I suppressed a groan as the auctioneer pulled mine from atop the pile.
“Well, here we have a quaint little basket, and from the smells issuing from it, a delectable meal. Five coppers! Anyone?”
For one agonizing moment, silence spread over the square. I tried not to squirm and to ignore the eyes covertly – and overtly – trained on me. I was just wishing that I could melt into the ground when a smooth voice called out, “Five coppers!”
I glanced, startled, at Gavyn beside me, who hastily tried to disguise his surprised look. I searched the crowd, trying to locate the speaker, and finally spotting him near the front.
The man stood with his back to me, facing the stage, his arm in the air to make his bid. I couldn’t tell much about him, except that he seemed to be about my age and was definitely no one I recognized.
The auctioneer cleared his throat. “Five coppers, then, do I hear ten coppers?”
“Fifteen!” said a new voice to my left. I stared in shock – the voice had come from Gavyn. He stared resolutely at the stage, refusing to meet my gaze, but I could see the beginnings of a blush creeping out from his ears. I didn’t know whether to be touched, embarrassed, or outraged. I frowned – outrage was the easiest. I wasn’t at all sure which was worse – being bid on out of pity or having no bids at all.
The stranger seemed quite determined to win my basket – was it possible he didn’t realize who it belonged to? – but he eventually gave in when Gavyn forced the price up to an entire silver. A silver! Did Gavyn even possess an entire silver?
I stood dazed through the remainder of the auction, aware that Gavyn stood next to me, my basket held lightly in his hands, and for all I could tell completely at ease. I shook myself out of it when the auction ended and people began to disperse, families and couples alike heading out to enjoy their picnics.
Gavyn glanced at me and gestured that I follow, ignoring what I’m sure was a myriad of emotions on my face, and strode off into the crowd.
I hurried to catch up. My anger had faded, leaving only a trace of embarrassment. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know.”
He chuckled. “It was worth it just to see the look on your face.”
I glared good-naturedly at him. “I didn’t want your pity bid.”
Gavyn’s expression morphed from amused to serious in a heartbeat, with a glint in his eye I couldn’t quite identify. Hurt? “It wasn’t a pity bid, Maelie. How could you think that? We’re friends. We’ve always been friends, ever since our mothers changed our diapers together.”
“But you’ve never done it before,” I pointed out softly. “You’ve always bid on someone you’re sweet on.”
“Which is why I thought it was high time I bid on my closest friend’s. Besides, you and I don’t get much quality time together, just us two.”” He winked, his serious expression gone.
I gave him a smile in return as we settled under a tree to enjoy the picnic. We had gone a fair ways from the center of town, but I could still catch glimpses of other couples sharing their baskets, often shyly glancing at each other. I flushed, and stared at the ground in an attempt to hide it.
“Well, thank you, Gavyn,” I said, thinking about how unsettling it was having the picnic with a young man instead of my family, even if that young man was someone I had been in diapers with, as Gavyn had been so kind as to mention.
“You’re welcome.” His gaze was on the basket.
Trying unsuccessfully to shake off the awkwardness of the moment, I reached into the basket to discover what my mother had packed. My stomach growled in anticipation: meat pies, soft bread with real butter, a true luxury, dried fruit and nuts, and a bottle of rice wine. I spent a few moments arranging it all, casting around for something intelligent to say.
“Did you really work all day?” was what I finally came up with. Not precisely the witty statement I'd been looking for.
Gavyn chuckled, and I glanced up to meet his eyes.
“Ah, Maelie, 'he who neglects his work today only has more to do tomorrow.'” Gavyn quoted the common proverb and assumed an comically virtuous expression. .
I snorted. “Of course, you only worked on festival day for your own benefit, admit it!”
Gavyn wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Well, it was either work, or be subjected to hours upon hours of Raven analyzing every ware for sale. I prefer work to torture.”
I laughed, and stuffed a pastry into his mouth.

Time passed quickly after that. Gavyn and I had been friends for so long, that soon all discomfort over the circumstances had disappeared, and it became just like any other time – though times with just the two of us were generally infrequent. Nonetheless, I soon forgot that this was meant to be a “couples” picnic and simply relaxed.
When the sunk began to sink below the horizon, we repacked the basket with the now empty containers and stood, heading back toward the square to seek out our families. As we walked I heard the sound of running feet behind us, and turned to see Raven hurrying to catch up with us.
“Wait up, you two,” she panted, even as she reached us and tucked her arm in mine.
I eyed Raven’s slightly disheveled state with amusement. “Have a nice time at the picnic then, Raven?”
She grimaced and wrinkled her nose. It was remarkable that even with her hair escaping its knot and her nose furrowed in distaste, she still was the very picture of beauty. “No, it was awful. I swear, every year I get someone who’s either so full of himself that he can’t do anything but talk about himself, or so in awe of me that I can’t get a word of sense out of him.”
“Which was it this year?” I asked, trying to be sympathetic, but not quite succeeding.
“Oh, the former. This bloke’s head was so large and empty it would probably float in water. Gift of the gods to females, he was. You’re lucky, Maelie.” Raven gave another of her dramatic sighs.
I gave a startled little laugh. “Me? Why?”
“Because, of course, you got to spend the picnic with someone who might actually be able to formulate an entire sentence, and about something other than himself.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Gavyn with a smirk, “I think that gods just might have created me as a gift to females as well.” Gavyn sucked air into his chest, trying to look manly and muscular, a difficult feat for his wiry body.
Raven and I shared a glance, then burst out laughing.
We were still chuckling when I spotted my family, reclining on a blanket in one corner of the square. The remains of their picnic supper littered the blanket, and my baby brother Caleb crawled determinedly from one place to the next, attempting to put anything and everything in his mouth. Mother patiently moved things out of his reach and finally pulled him, squirming, into her lap.
I plopped down between my parents; Gavyn and Raven both sat as well, though far more gracefully.
I kissed Papa on the cheek and reached over to relieve my mother of my fussing brother. He settled into my lap and grazed at me with trusting eyes. He smiled, and I couldn't help but reach down and kiss the dimples on his cheeks.
“Where have you been all day, Mother? I didn’t see you at the festival at all.”
“Oh, I was dealing with a last minute crisis back at the farm. I discovered a whole nest of mice in the last of our flour, and I’ve been trying to track down someone with some to sell.” Her lips pursed at this unforeseen expense. “I heard you were selling your surplus today, Gavyn.”
Gavyn looked apologetic. “Yes, but I actually sold the last of it this afternoon.”
Mother sighed. “Well, thank you anyway. I’m sure I’ll be able to find some one with wheat yet to sell – most have been too preoccupied with the festival to even talk to me about it today.”
I frowned, concerned. “Why didn’t you just leave it until tomorrow then? It’s not as if we need the flour this very day.”
Mother gave a weary smile. “Yes, well, I never can seem to let these things go until they’re dealt with.”
“You do work far too hard, my dear,” said Papa. “The farm will keep for one day while we all take a well-earned break.” Mother nodded absently; she was well used to Papa urging her not to work so hard. “Coddling,” she called it.
Papa turned to me. “I hope you three all enjoyed your picnics?” Papa asked, and quirked an eyebrow inquisitively at me. He knew as well as I did how I felt about the picnic. I worked hard not to blush.
“Well –” began Raven, assuming a tragic expression.
“Raven had a perfectly awful time,” I said, cutting her off. “So don’t let her start. I can only listen to a rant about the shortcomings of men so many times in one day.”
Papa and Gavyn both chuckled; Raven stuck her tongue out at me.
“Very well, then,” said Papa, “Raven did not enjoy a pleasant meal.” Papa paused, his eyes twinkling, and I was impressed at his restraint in not adding “as usual.”
“And, you, Maelie? Did you enjoy yourself?”
I opened by mouth to speak, but closed it again almost immediately, not quite sure what to say. Gavyn rescued me.
“It was quite the opposite of Raven’s experience, sir.” Raven pretended to look affronted, but he ignored her, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “But of course, Maelie and I being such old friends, it was only natural.”
“Of course, of course.” Papa turned back to me. “And how were the minstrels, Maelie? I was caring for Caleb, so I missed their performance.”
I gladly launched into the less embarrassing topic. “They were extraordinary this year, Papa. The real world almost disappeared completely, the illusion was so complete.” I sighed wistfully. “I wish I could do that.”
“You know, Maelie, that troupe of minstrels is staying at the Sleeping Dragon,” said Raven. “Mayhap you could come by this evening and talk to them.”
I was quiet for a moment, one hand absently stroking Caleb’s belly, as I tried to hide my rising excitement. It would be wonderful to be able to talk to master minstrels; I had never before had the opportunity, and this troupe was particularly talented. I glanced at my father, whose face was expressionless, and blurted, “but I can’t. I have my evening chores at home. Besides, they’re probably too busy to talk to me.” I was trying to sound nonchalant, but I don’t think I quite managed it.
Raven was shaking her head before I’d even finished speaking. “Of course, they’d talk to you, Maelie! I've spoken to them a few times since they got here, they’re all quite friendly, and all masters love to talk about their work.” Raven’s expression indicated that she knew this all too well from years of serving strangers at the Sleeping Dragon.
“Oh, go on, then,” said Papa, “I can feed your cows for one night.”
I grinned and kissed him on the cheek again. “Thank you, Papa!”

Shafts of dying sunlight pierced the smoky air of the inn’s common room, illuminating certain tables with dim light. Oil lamps burned in the corners where the natural light did not reach, casting a flickering light that battled with the shadows. The room was bustling with locals taking advantage of their brief respite from constant work by indulging in a vast amount of ale and gossip and with strangers who had traveled here for the festival and who either joined in gaily with the gossip or furtively glanced around, avoiding conversation.
In one corner sat a single minstrel, strumming lightly on his mandola and singing the familiar ballad “The Lady of Tendan Isle.” Before him, though it was difficult to see in the trembling light, was the Lady of Tendan Isle, a mere foot tall but exquisitely detailed down to the embroidery on her flowing ball gown and the expression of near desperation on her miniature features as she danced to please the evil tyrant who held her captive.
The depth and variety of the illusions created by music never failed to fascinate me. Whether it was the nearly absolute illusions created by masters like those I had heard earlier, through which the listener was drawn into the illusion itself and, in the best of them, barely realized it was an illusion at all, or the far simpler version that could be conjured by any decent minstrel which created small, slightly transparent illusions which danced or acted out the story of the music.
When the minstrel caught my eye, he smiled at me and winked, then returned his focus to his music. The elderly musician and I had long been friends, since I had been begging him for more and more knowledge of music since I was old enough to formulate a question. Taegan had patiently taught me much of the theory of musical illusions, demonstrating that as the music grew more intricate and difficult, the illusions also grew in detail and complexity. Occasionally he even let me try a few simple chords on his mandola, but as I had no instrument of my own and could not often get away from the farm to practice, all I could manage was to create a few shimmering colors in the air.
“There they are,” said Raven, indicating a group of a dozen or so men and women in one corner of the room, all eating, drinking, and clearly determined to relax after a day of working at the festival.
I hesitated, uneasy about interrupting a group of strangers in their revelry, but Raven had no such qualms. She latched onto my elbow and pulled me forward.
Up close, I saw that the group ranged from an elderly man, probably near the age of Taegan, down to, I noticed with a start, a youth and a girl around my own age. All of them stopped eating and talking as they noticed Raven and me.
“Well, hullo, there, lass,” said the eldest. “’Tis Raven, am right?”
“It is, sir,” said Raven, bobbing her head politely. “This my friend, Maelie.” I bobbed my head, too, and tried to smile though inside I was quivering with nerves. “She’s always been somewhat fascinated by music, and was wondering if she could have a talk with you about it.”
The old man’s face broke into a smile. “Why, certainly, lass. There’s nothing a minstrel loves more than meetin’ another music lover. Come, lass, sit yerself down.” The man’s expression was so open and friendly that I felt little hesitation about sliding onto the bench across from him, next to the girl who was around my age.
Raven bent and whispered in my ear. “Good luck!” She winked, and before I could utter a sound, she’d disappeared into the masses of people.
I turned back to the troupe of minstrels, feeling a little lost, and having no idea what to say. I was spared having to come up with something, for the old man promptly began to speak again.
“Well, then, lass, me name be Daragh.” he began, going on to rapidly name the rest of the company, who all seemed to be related to him in some way, and whose names I forgot almost the moment he informed me of them. I only noted the names of the two youngest ones: his granddaughter, Alessi, and his grandson, Dom.
I smiled shyly at each of them as he finished the introductions and fell silent. There was a moment’s awkward silence before I realized they were waiting for me to speak. “Oh, my name’s Maelie.”
“'Tis our pleasure to meet ye Maelie,” said the one sitting next to me, Alessi. “Are ye from this village here, or are ye just visitin’ for the festival?”
“I live on a farm not too far out of the village; I’ve lived there all my life.” And, indeed, I’d never been further away than the nearest village, but I didn’t want to say that to this group, who had clearly traveled the world and, given their strange manner of speaking, were not from Lithyan.
“Ah, a farm girl, then,” said Alessi. “There isna much o’ farmland in Mesana. The ground is too rocky, or so I’m told. A minstrel’s daughter doesna know much o’ farmin’, but I’ve always gathered
‘tis hard work.”
I nodded. “Very hard. And sometimes with little reward, if the weather’s bad.”
“Aye, there be many fishin’ communities in Mesana, and the storms can make fer bad fishin’ as well.”
Dom, the youth sitting across from me, sighed a dramatic sigh. I tried not to smile; he reminded strongly of Raven. “And why is it we’re talkin’ about the weather? I thought she wanted to talk about music.”
Next to me, Alessi rolled her eyes. “Just ignore me wee brother, Maelie. He doesna understand the concept of ‘small talk.’”
“Wee?” Dom’s entire countenance was that of utter mock outrage. “Well if I be wee, then ye be wee also, for I be only three minutes younger than ye!” He gave a triumphant laugh.
“Three minutes?” I repeated, surprised. “Are you two twins?”
“Yes,” said Alessi and Dom together, both in tones of long suffering, then, sharing a glance, both burst out laughing together.
“Ye see, we only pretend to fight, on principle. ‘Tis what siblings do, as I’m sure ye know.”
“My only sibling is my younger brother, and he’s not a year old.”
Alessi looked startled. “That young? I canna imagine such an age difference.”
I shrugged. “It’s fairly common around here.”
“How –” began Alessi, then she stopped. “No, Dom’s right fer once. Ye came over here to talk about music.” Alessi ignored Dom’s smirk at this. “How is it a farm girl got so interested in music?”
I shrugged again. “I’ve always been fascinated by it. I grew up always looking forward to the spring festival, our only real break from work all year, and every year there’d be music. Taegan – he’s the one playing now, over there –” I jerked my head over to where Taegan was strumming a jig on his mandola, “he noticed how much I loved it even when I was a young child, and he befriended me. I’ve always wished I could play, but I never had the time to learn.” Or the money, I added silently. “Though Taegan has taught me some of the theory, and a few chords on his mandola, and I often sing to myself while I work. But all I can manage to make the air shimmer a bit.” I grimaced regretfully, thinking of my lack of skill.
My reaction was not shared among the minstrels; rather, they exchanged glances, full of meaning that I could not decipher.
“Ye say ye can make the air shimmer, lass?” asked the old one, Daragh. “Would ye mind givin’ us a demonstration?”
My cheeks reddened at the thought of displaying my meager skills in front of these masters. “I can’t. I don’t have an instrument.”
“Well, there’s no stopping you using the instrument we all carry around with us, lass.”
“Yer voice,” Dom added in response to my bemused expression.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” I protested. My usual audience consisted of the pigs, the cows, and the barley, an audience far less demanding than any human, and likely to be far less critical.
“Lass, if ye’ve any desire to be a minstrel, ye must get over yer shyness over performin’ before strangers.” Daragh’s eyes were understanding. “Ye might as well start now.”
“Very well.” I took a deep breath, and, hoping my voice would not quiver and betray my nerves, cast around for a song. Remembering what Taegan had been singing when I first came into inn, I began the ballad of the Lady of Tendan Isle, the familiar words rolling off my tongue.
As I sang, I forgot that I was singing for strangers, forgot to be nervous, and became completely absorbed, enthralled by the winding melody and the dancing colors in the air, and the room around me disappeared as surely as if I had been listening to masters play.
I finished the ballad, and reality reasserted itself with an unpleasant suddenness. The noise of the crowded common room returned, and I felt my cheeks warm again as I realized the gazes of all the minstrels were fixed upon me.
The silence stretched as they stared at me and I stared at the table before me, examining the remains of someone’s supper.
Then Daragh cleared his throat. “Well, lass, ye’ve a great store o’ talent.”
I shook my head in denial. “But you saw – all I can do it make a few mere shimmers.”
“Lass,” began Daragh gently, “I do no’ know how yer minstrel friend has failed to tell ye this, but ‘tis extremely rare for one with no training to make any illusion at all. That ye can make even these ‘mere’ shimmers shows that ye do indeed have a substantial amount of talent, even if it would take a good deal of trainin’ to make a master o’ ye.”
“But I’m not going to be a master,” I said. “Why, I’d have to have lessons, and an instrument, there’d be no one to teach me but Taegan, and I can’t leave the farm very often.”
Daragh waved all these protests aside. “Why not go to the capital? I wager you’d find many a master there to teach ye.”
I paused. “I haven’t the money to pay for lessons,” I finally admitted. “And besides, I could never leave my family. They need me to help with the farm.”
“Ye know, Maelie,” said Alessi, “though we’ve not been to yer capital before, we’ve heard tell from other minstrels that there be masters there who will take ye on talent alone, if ye’ve enough of it.”
“She’s right,” said Daragh. “No master worth his salt would turn away a truly talented student just because she doesna have the money to pay for lessons. And as fer leavin’ yer family... well. That’s up to ye, now, is it no’? If ye really have a desire to become a minstrel, ye’ll find a way to make it happen, find the courage to leave home.”
I was silent for a moment, and the minstrels let me think. The thought of learning to sing and play properly, to be immersed in music, was enticing. To be free forever from tedious farm work, and instead working in music would be rather like a dream. But how could I ever leave? I had never been farther from home than the next village, and that only a few times. And my family. Mother, Papa, and little Caleb. How could I ever leave them? And what about Gayvn, and Raven? I couldn't imagine leaving all that was familiar, all that I loved. The thought of the capital city, with its thousands of people, and not knowing a single one of them, was intimidating at the least, and downright terrifying to consider facing alone.
“Grandda,” began Dom thoughtfully, “we be heading that way once we leave the village. How would it be if she came with us?”
Daragh nodded to his grandson before turning his kindly brown eyes back to me. “That’s right, lass. We be staying for another week or so here, to take a little rest from our journey, but then we be heading off to yer capital. We’d be right pleased if ye came with us. We could see ye safely to the capital, and we’ll likely stay there a good moon afore moving on, so at least ye wouldn’t be completely alone.”
I was taken aback. “That very kind of you,” I started, but I was interrupted by a raucous commotion from outside the inn. I frowned. “What’s going on?” I tried to hear what the voices were shouting, but it was impossible to pull one voice out from the many.
The door of the inn burst open with so much force that it slammed into the wall. The resulting crash caused the entire common room to grow quiet. A young man I didn’t recognize ran inside, panting with exertion. “F-fire!” he managed between gasps. “F-fire! The farmhouse over by the creak! It’s up in flames!”
For an agonizing moment I thought my heart had come to a halt. Then it came to life again, thundering painfully in my head, drowning out the roar of noise and action that met this pronouncement. Before it had even managed to thump a score of times, I was on my feet and sprinting past the man and out the door of the inn.
The wind, bitter with a persistent chill, pulled my hair loose from its ties, and it whipped around my face as I ran with all my might toward the flames eerily stark against the sky.
Mother! Papa! Caleb! I repeated their names like a litany as I sprinted towards them, my skirts hitched up to my hips so I could run that much faster.
I heard the rattle of a wagon on the road behind me, and it soon overtook me.
“Maelie!”
I heard the voice as through a thick fog; I had focused my mind entirely on running, on reaching my family before it was too late.
“Maelie!” the voice persisted.
I stopped running, and nearly fell to the ground as my head began to spin and my side to throb. Gavyn leaped from the wagon seat and put his arms around me to support me. “There’s no way you can run the entire way to the farm! Come on,” and he helped me into the wagon and whipped the horses into a gallop. Dimly I noticed that the bed of the wagon was full of pots, pans, and buckets.
“To fill with water,” said Gavyn, noticing the direction of my gaze. “Thank the heavens that your farmhouse is on the stream!”
I couldn’t respond, my entire being centered on the sickening sight of the flames licking the sky in the distance. The rest of the world had ceased to exist. The nightmarish sight only continued to grow as we approached, and as Gavyn halted the wagon at my farmhouse, I barely registered that there was already a crowd of people gathered here. They descended on the wagon frantically, pulling vessels from the bed and running toward to creek to fill them.
I jumped from the wagon seat and ran to my parents. Mother was screaming and crying hysterically, fighting desperately against Papa to return to the house. Papa had tears streaming down his face, but he made no noise, only staring in mute horror at the sight of the flames hungrily devouring his home.
“Caleb! My Caleb!” screamed my mother.
For a second time, I thought my heart had ceased to beat. Wildly, desperately I searched the crowd, now realizing which face was missing from it. Caleb! He must be still in the house!
I stood frozen with terror and despair. Mother broke free of Papa’s grasp and ran toward the house.
“No, Cara!” shouted Papa, sprinting after her and disappearing into the flames.
I broke free of the terror that immobilized me and started to run after them, but something restrained me. Gavyn. He had locked his arms around me. I kicked and screamed, but his arms would not yield.
A horrendous, deafening crack resounded through the night, silencing the shouts and the screams. Everyone had frozen in their tasks, faces turned towards the house as it collapsed into itself with a mighty crash.
A scream filled the air, loud and shrill and heartbroken, but it was a few moments before I realized that it issued from my own throat. In a final desperate move, I jabbed Gavyn with my elbow, taking advantage of his stunned shock, and broke free of his grasp. But in the sudden release of energy, I toppled forward and knew no more.

[Amnesia]

So these are all my thoughts on the piece for the moment. Might have more to say later after mulling some more things over, but I'll let you know if I do add anything onto this!

General comments:

-Really liked how you touched up the first couple of paragraphs, they open very smooth and clear and segue well into the story.

- So in reading this through, I noticed that you use a lot of adverbs. Not trying to adhere to any sort “writing rules” or silly stuff as that – just seems like there are a lot of places where an actual verb or a little bit of re-wording could be used to strengthen the writing and give more Pow! to the work. I don't mean to say ax them all, but just scale the use of the adverbs back a fair bit. Say 50-75%?

This passage:

We approached a merchant's stall which sold cheap magical trinkets that were fascinating nonetheless: small figurines of dancers who actually moved, slowly repeating their graceful movements time and again; a ball that whistled cheerfully whenever it was thrown in the air; a device that would tell you when your meat had heated sufficiently; a small light for reading that burned without oil or wood.

Was a somewhat guilty example in that there was about one adverb per each phrase describing a little magical wonder, save for the last one.

- As for the accents and manner of speaking of the musicians, particularly Dom and Alessi, who/what is it modeled after...? I'm just curious.

-Very, very good flow you've got going overall. None of the scenes, new or old, really stuck out at odds with the rest of the piece it appears and it all drew together/blended into each other well.

-I think the most editing that will need to be done is down at the sentence by sentence level, mostly to cut down on redundancy and some word choice switches and the like. Structurally and holistically, it's a solid read.

- As an overall, I think this piece did really well in setting the scene and the tone of the story, good characterisation going, and probably the onlt thing that really snagged at me stylistically are the adverbs.. Really good job of this. Was a pleasure to read, now that the story is on a roll. Very nice. =)

Specifics:

Music filled the air around me, but it was subtle, perhaps because it simply was the grass, the air, the sky. It was woven into their very being; it somehow defined them.

I would vote for some more re-working of these two phrases. They seem to share a bit of redundancy in that Maelie describes the grass/air/sky as being composed of music and then repeats that again by saying how music is woven into their being, how music defines the grass/air/sky against one another or all together, depending on your take of 'defining'.

...the air began to gain smells of smoke, waste, and unwashed bodies

'Began to' and 'gain' in this context seem to be saying the same thing twice. It seems a bit clunky/repetative. Especially if you look the sentence and switch out either 'began to' or 'gain' in the same space and do a little grammatical re-wording: E.g. 1) "...the air began to smell of smoke..."; 2) "...the air gained smells of smoke..."

“True, true,” she agreed

Here I would actually argue for replacing "agreed" with "conceded" as minute matter of characterisation. Is Raven the type who will willing go along an 'agree' with people or will she, after hearing another viewpoint, go back and change her mind a little, conceding a point? This just seemed to stick up compared to her earlier, playful "If we must" attitude from before. Really nitpicky on my part, but in all the re-reads I've done, it always seems to snag my attention for a fraction.

“Come on,” said Raven, impatiently, and I realized I’d been lost in thought.

I think the piece could do without that phrase -- caught me as a tad awkward; and the fact that Maelie is lost in thought seems implicit from Raven's impatience. Then again, I myself lean toward subtlety in an irksome way, so being explicit in a different way about Maelie's reflections might be a better idea.

outdated (in my mind) tradition

I'd actually be careful about using parentheses with such a short phrase - I've seen it work better in longer explanations and in stylistic instances but here, compared to the rest of the flow and style of the story, it seems to distract. Any way to re-word that?

The auctioneer, a skinny reed of a man...

I just really liked this phrase.

Gavyn quoted, the common proverb and assumed assuming an comically virtuous expression

Again, a small point where the nature of the quote being a proverb appears to be evident/implicit and a tad redundant.

“You do work far too hard, my dear,” said Papa. “The farm will keep for one day while we all take a well-earned break.” Mother nodded absently; she was well used to Papa urging her not to work so hard.

Bit of re-wording so as to get the same idea across but without being repetitive?

“Coddling,” she called it.

Think it would be fine if it was changed to:

Coddling, she called it.

The quotations and dialogue element about it kinda distracted/confused with the actual, present-moment conversation.

The room was bustling with locals taking advantage of their brief respite from constant work by indulging in a vast amount of ale and gossip and with strangers who had traveled here for the festival, and who either joined in gaily with the gossip or furtively glanced around, avoiding conversation.

Very long run-on with the "and"s.

I smiled shyly at each of them as he finished the introductions and fell silent. There was a moment’s awkward silence before I realized they were waiting for me to speak. “Oh, my name’s Maelie.”

Not sure if this is intentional or not, but hasn't Raven already introduced Maelie as Maelie a couple paragraphs up? Especially since everyone round the table seemed to stop chatting/eating to see why Raven/Maelie were there. And if it is intentional, that Maelie introduces herself twice, does she notice/care? Just a little confused about that. (Course, I've done the same thing in class >.< I was confused. Terribly, horribly confused.)

But in the sudden release of energy, I toppled forward and knew no more.

Did she hit her head or tweak a nerve or something? Or did she just kinda fall and pass out? Seems rather odd if she did. But that might just be me.

Grammar/Spelling:

The picnic at the annual Spring Festival was a ancient...

...don’t get much quality time together, just us two.””

When the sunk began to sink...

He settled into my lap and grazed at me with trusting eyes.

“’Tis Raven, am right?

[wildbluefaerie]

Originally Posted by Amnesia

-Really liked how you touched up the first couple of paragraphs, they open very smooth and clear and segue well into the story.

...

-Very, very good flow you've got going overall. None of the scenes, new or old, really stuck out at odds with the rest of the piece it appears and it all drew together/blended into each other well.

...

- As an overall, I think this piece did really well in setting the scene and the tone of the story, good characterisation going, and probably the onlt thing that really snagged at me stylistically are the adverbs.. Really good job of this. Was a pleasure to read, now that the story is on a roll. Very nice. =)

Thank you! That's encouraging to hear.

- So in reading this through, I noticed that you use a lot of adverbs. Not trying to adhere to any sort “writing rules” or silly stuff as that – just seems like there are a lot of places where an actual verb or a little bit of re-wording could be used to strengthen the writing and give more Pow! to the work. I don't mean to say ax them all, but just scale the use of the adverbs back a fair bit. Say 50-75%?

*sigh* You're completely right. I've always been told that a single strong verb is much more effective than a weak verb plus an adverb. Unfortunately, I'm way too liberal with them! Thanks for pointing it out, I'll try to go through and weed some of them out.

- As for the accents and manner of speaking of the musicians, particularly Dom and Alessi, who/what is it modeled after...? I'm just curious.

It's loosely based off of the Irish/Scottish accent - at least, that's what I hear in my head when I'm writing them.

-I think the most editing that will need to be done is down at the sentence by sentence level, mostly to cut down on redundancy and some word choice switches and the like. Structurally and holistically, it's a solid read.

Well, luckily for me, those kinds of changes are a lot easier to implement!

I would vote for some more re-working of these two phrases. They seem to share a bit of redundancy in that Maelie describes the grass/air/sky as being composed of music and then repeats that again by saying how music is woven into their being, how music defines the grass/air/sky against one another or all together, depending on your take of 'defining'.

Music filled the air around me, but it was subtle, perhaps because it simply was the grass, the air, the sky. Blades of grass quivered with the growing melodies of strings and the breeze danced upon the soaring notes of flutes.

Better or worse?

Here I would actually argue for replacing "agreed" with "conceded" as minute matter of characterisation. Is Raven the type who will willing go along an 'agree' with people or will she, after hearing another viewpoint, go back and change her mind a little, conceding a point? This just seemed to stick up compared to her earlier, playful "If we must" attitude from before. Really nitpicky on my part, but in all the re-reads I've done, it always seems to snag my attention for a fraction.

Yeah, I'm not sure.... I'll have to mull this one over for a while. I was trying to convey that she sort of absent-mindedly agrees with Maelie, not even really realizing what she's agreeing to or that she contradicted herself. It was kind of a continuation of showing her disinterest in the music when she's cleaning her fingernails with her hairpin. Whether or not this is consistent with her character, I'm not sure yet. And would she really not be paying much attention at this point, after already being so dramatic?

I'd actually be careful about using parentheses with such a short phrase - I've seen it work better in longer explanations and in stylistic instances but here, compared to the rest of the flow and style of the story, it seems to distract. Any way to re-word that?

The picnic at the annual Spring Festival was, in my mind, an antiquated tradition. It dated back who knew how many generations, and it was not one I was particularly fond of.

I think this works better - I also changed outdated to antiquated because it's been bothering me that I had outdated and dated in the same sentence.

Bit of re-wording so as to get the same idea across but without being repetitive?

“You do work far too hard, my dear,” said Papa. “The farm will keep for one day while we all take a well-earned break.” Mother nodded absently; she was well used to Papa urging her to ease her workload.

Very long run-on with the "and"s.

The room was bustling with locals taking advantage of their brief respite from constant work by indulging in a vast amount of ale and gossip and with strangers who had traveled here for the festival, who either joined in gaily or furtively glanced around, avoiding conversation.

Not sure if this is intentional or not, but hasn't Raven already introduced Maelie as Maelie a couple paragraphs up? Especially since everyone round the table seemed to stop chatting/eating to see why Raven/Maelie were there. And if it is intentional, that Maelie introduces herself twice, does she notice/care? Just a little confused about that.

No, you're right, she has. I was trying to emphasize how awkward she feels - they're expecting her to speak, so she says the first thing that comes into her head. Would it help if I added something like "but you already knew that"?

Did she hit her head or tweak a nerve or something? Or did she just kinda fall and pass out? Seems rather odd if she did. But that might just be me.

But in the sudden release of energy, I toppled forward. Pain blossomed in my head and I knew no more.

He settled into my lap and grazed at me with trusting eyes.

Haha! I guess I didn't proofread as well as I thought I did. Of course, I was running late, so I just read through it quickly before posting it...

Thanks for all your comments! They're so helpful!

[WarriorPoetsPen]

I've never done one of these reviews before, so I don't really know what I'm doing. The others seem to have given you some great advice.

Uh, this is not what I usually read. It's kind of too girly for me, but it seem st be well written. It moved a little slow and I found myself spacing out a bit, and had to focus to finish it. I was expecting more than just this festival thing, but it never appeared.

I don't want to say boring, because there might be others that like this kind of writing, but I really was yawning some by the end. I don't want suggest any ideas, because really I think that your story really isn't the kind that could use my crazy action oriented stuff.

Um, I hope you're not offended. I'm just saying what I think.

But you write well.

Hope this helps.

[wildbluefaerie]

Don't worry, I'm not offended. I don't really write "action-packed" stuff. Especially for this story, I want it to be more about internal struggles than external struggles, and it would definitely be more focused towards girls - teenage girls, to be precise, and the issues they have to deal with.

You say this was your first review - you did fine - all opinions are welcome, positive or negative. But since you're new at it, maybe it be helpful if you looked through some of the other threads and see what kinds of things people say? I usually try to comment on such things as flow, sentence structure, character development, etc. Writing good reviews takes practice, as does anything, and I honestly think that writing reviews of others' writing is an excellent way to help improve your own.

[Amnesia]

Hey! So things have finally started slowing down around my part of the world that I can get back to you properly. Apologies about the long absence!

Music filled the air around me, but it was subtle, perhaps because it simply was the grass, the air, the sky. Blades of grass quivered with the growing melodies of strings and the breeze danced upon the soaring notes of flutes.

It sounds better. Personally, I might try tweaking the order of those two sentences. The second sentence might be a nice way to introduce the concept of the music composing the grass, the air, and the sky as its presented in the first sentence.

Yeah, I'm not sure.... I'll have to mull this one over for a while. I was trying to convey that she sort of absent-mindedly agrees with Maelie, not even really realizing what she's agreeing to or that she contradicted herself. It was kind of a continuation of showing her disinterest in the music when she's cleaning her fingernails with her hairpin. Whether or not this is consistent with her character, I'm not sure yet. And would she really not be paying much attention at this point, after already being so dramatic?

Ohhh I get it! Totally cool then. I think as long as she seems pretty consistent in that aspect of her character, her absently agreeing with Maelie, all should be good stuff. And completely up to you as to how you would like her character of course.

The picnic at the annual Spring Festival was, in my mind, an antiquated tradition. It dated back who knew how many generations, and it was not one I was particularly fond of.

“You do work far too hard, my dear,” said Papa. “The farm will keep for one day while we all take a well-earned break.” Mother nodded absently; she was well used to Papa urging her to ease her workload.

I like these versions a lot better personally. Very nice.

The room was bustling with locals taking advantage of their brief respite from constant work by indulging in a vast amount of ale and gossip and with strangers who had traveled here for the festival, who either joined in gaily or furtively glanced around, avoiding conversation.

Still a bit of a mouthful to read. Any possible way to dice it into two sentences? Possibly after ending the first at '...constant work.'? But it is up to you. :3

Would it help if I added something like "but you already knew that"?

I think it would actually -- adds in clarification for a reader and emphasizes that self-conscious element to Maelie.

But in the sudden release of energy, I toppled forward. Pain blossomed in my head and I knew no more.

Awesome. Not the blacking out necessarily cause blacking out is never fun, but I like the revision. Makes more sense in an explicit way.

And no problem on the comments! I'm just happy to be of service/useful. I loved reading stories like this when I was younger so it brings back memories. <3

[wildbluefaerie]

Glad you liked all my rewrites! I still need to go back and work on some of those long wordy sentences (like the one about the people in the inn) and to do a bit of adverb-weeding, but overall I think I'm moving on to the next chapter. Uncharted grounds! Lol. (I've been working on the first chapter for so long, I haven't gotten this far before on this story! Mostly because I kept getting too busy to write for a long time, then coming back to it scrapping everything I'd already written...) Anyway keep an eye out for a new thread with chapter two in the next couple of weeks...

I loved reading stories like this when I was younger so it brings back memories.

I did too - that's probably why I'm enjoying writing it so much.