Opinions please....would you carry on reading this?

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MizElz

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OK guys, i know we all tore Eventing_Kid's story to shreds yesterday; here is something (factual) i produced a year ago....see what you think! This is a very short extract from the first chapter (one of 23!)

My earliest memory is, in reality, not really a memory at all; instead, I have passed it off over the years as an imprinted instinct, borne of an incident whose details have been relayed countless times to me by numerous members of my family. The lesson learned by my mother and I, on that fateful summer month, bore a motto that someone very dear to me now would vehemently dispute, this being quite simply that tractors and horses do not mix. Of course, at the time I had little to say about the matter, me being all of six-and-a-half months old. Yet although the physical reminder of my plight has, over time, become well and truly concealed by a massive mop of hair, the mental scars of that fateful incident remain, transferring down through my quaking toes and fingers to the rein and stirrup of every unfortunate steed who finds themselves obliged to bear me.
Theoretically, I was not born in the saddle, but, for all my mother’s determination and stubbornness, I may very well have been. There are not many eleven-year-olds who, having lived on an urban estate for each and every year of their young lives, would be prepared to offer daily hard labour for a weekly wage of one pound, battling against the odds of age, and of course, the wrath of parents, with a three-year strategy firmly in place. Throughout her childhood, Mum had been content to make do with a fantasy world of cuddly toy ponies, shelves full of horsy picture books, and endless trips to the winners’ enclosure following the running of the multi-annual, sibling-conspired Guinea Pig Grand National. Yet she knew that there was a void in her life, an empty space that only she could choose to fill. And so, at the tender age of fourteen, my mother set off for the infamous Stow Horse Fair with a hundred and forty hard-earned pounds in her pocket. Several hours later, she was seated, empty pocketed, in an unknown horsebox, next to an unknown man, with a newly purchased, six month old Arab-cross-Dartmoor colt safely installed in the back.
 
ok!......


Their joint arrival was, quite predictably, greeted with a reception that was anything but welcoming. My grandfather must have been fighting an inward battle; a choice between two equally powerful yet strangely opposing emotions confronted him. Parental anger and horror festered, for the blatant stupidity and naivety of this young girl for abandoning herself to the lurking horrors of the world sent chills to my grandparents’ hearts. Yet overriding this fury must have been an overbearing sense of pride, for surely it is something to be proud of, when your beloved, conscientious, horse-mad daughter takes on board the fact that you cannot afford to fund her dreams, and so decides to bear the weight of them herself? Granddad’s decision spoke for itself, for the young chestnut foal, soon to be named after the doomed oil tanker, the Amoco Cadiz, stayed put.
Perhaps naming him after such an unlucky cause proved detrimental, for Caddy was not to lead the easy, carefree life that most young horses are able to. As is often the case when something is hard-fought for, Fate seemed to turn against my mother just a week or so after her escapade, as the little horse became victim to the deadly equine virus known as ‘strangles.’ Having been but one of the hundreds of horses who had passed through Stow Fair’s gate that day, bundled together with both the sick and the strong, there was no question of where he had contracted the illness. And although the price of his ownership had been met entirely by my mother, the ensuing vets bills, which were to literally treble his own price tag, ultimately fell to my nan and granddad. For several, long, isolated weeks, an almost unrecognisable Caddy, with huge, gaping ulcers on each side of his throat, fought on bravely, defying the hand of death which lurked just beyond the rickety doors of his lean-to tin stable. And somehow, though he now appeared just a shadow even of the skinny colt that had stolen my mother’s heart, he pulled through.
Even then, Fate could not leave the little chestnut pony alone. It is relatively unheard of for a horse to recover from a broken leg; a dog may be kept quiet enough for the bones to heal, and a cat can survive almost as well with three legs as it can with four. And so, when Caddy came hobbling in from the paddock one day, his foreleg fractured by a freak impact with a stray rock, his life hung in the balance once more. For my poor mother, there came only the feeling of dread; after all her bravery and strife, after all the money her parents had spent in order for Caddy to get well, he was about to be stolen away from her. Once more, the vet was summoned, and once more, my mother was pitched into that deep whirlpool of uncertainty, as, with bated breath, she awaited the verdict. After much consideration, the decision was made to try to save him, to keep him as still and immobile as possible, and hope that his young bones still had the power to mend and regenerate themselves.
And thus it was from the back of this little red fighter, some twenty-one years later, that I was to take my first plunge, one of many that would form my hopeful journey of horsemanship. A veteran he may have been, but Caddy had never learned to cope with his one true adversary: the tractor. There was little me, perched like a pea upon his drum-like back, held tight in the saddle by my mother’s hands, when suddenly it appeared around the corner, chugging slowly. As though struck by lightening, Caddy reared upright - just the sight of this monster was enough to drive him to madness - and I, hatless and unprotected, tumbled gracefully to the floor!
 
You write really well. I think the first paragraph is a bit wordy, as if you are trying too hard and getting a bit bogged down being so descriptive. The second paragraph flows well and gets the reader drawn in, making me want to read more!
 
I was referring to your first post, don't want to confuse!
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so you think it would be worth sending off then? i'm always so worried that nobody will like it! i have another short story, which won a writing prize last year, i could post that it if people fancy a sad read....
 
This has the makings of a really interesting story. Yes I would carry on reading but with an editor's hat on for a moment...I think you need to decide whether your style is formal and literary or from the heart and a bit homespun - both styles are charming but they don't mix well.

I imagine the first paragraph was the product of many hours of thought,and what follows seems to have flowed from you more naturally, I actually prefer the former style and felt a little niggle of disappointment that something started so magnificently (if a little wordy but splitting it to two paragraphs would solve that) then became slightly untidy.

I do wonder if rephrasing the story in the third person might depersonalise it a little and make it a more formal piece of work...

These are just musings and I hope you are not upset by them, I think the story has real potential and would love to know where it takes the reader next
 
A tad wordy for me - relax and use more full stops! Is this your true style? I'd even expand a little, as the family picture isn't complete. Good effort with everything- including the spelling (it IS 'bated') and grammar!
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I like it, the first part you posted was a bit wordy for me but I liked the second part much better and it was certainly interesting. I think it would be worth sending off, certainly as good as many published books I have read, go for it!
 
If you're really keen, you could try joining a local writers' group? I THINK you need to google for National Assoc of Writers' Groups or NAWG & then all the local groups are listed. Mine's on there, but it's too far away for you!

They are all set up differently but at ours, on the 1st Tues of the month we bring something we've written on that month's theme & read it out & everyone comments, then for the 3rd Tues we've taken someone's work away to look at & discuss it in more detail.

It's really inspiring learning from each other, & you'd prob find something like that helpful. I'm now blasting thru my 5th novel.
 
thanks! i may do that, its something i've been considering for a while, and it sounds like it has worked for you! have you actually been published?
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To be honest, it reads in a way my old literature teacher used to say to me "You're trying to hard". I think you've thought too hard about it and it has a "strained" style. You may be better off being a little more simplistic; think fewer commas and briefer sentences. I like the watcher's idea of writing in the third person - it may well work better
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I would certainly read more, but as I think the_watcher said, the second installment reads better than the first, it was more 'in the moment' and less wordy than the first installment. Anyway well done you. A million times better than the eventing kid's (supposed) pal's effort.
 
As a short story, I would think this above average in quality. However, as a novel I would not read it. It is very hard to carry off an extended piece of writing in the first person as (in general rather than your specific story so far) characters appear to be bragging if any of their personal achievements are described in detail in the story, and unless very well handled, emotional descriptions tend to make the reader feel uncomfortably voyeuristic (why this is worse than having them described by a detached 3rd party I have no idea, but it usually is). We also tend to expect more perfection from a 1st party character, so judge them more harshly for any mistakes they make--Harry Potter could make some very silly decisions and still come accross as the hero because he wasnt telling the story, but if those books were converted directly into the first person, he would come accross as both arrogant and inept. It is harder to sympathise with an "I" than a "he."
I also think that the wordy prose makes an interesting experiment for a short story, but think you could only hold my attention for about a chapter before I felt it was detracting from the telling of the story. I suspect others may feel differently on this point though, as the amount of story per word one prefers is a personal choice. As this has been mentioned a few times before here though, I suspect that you have exceeded that level for the majority of people.

I would definitely read this as a short story and would not rule out a novel with this beginning plotline written in a different style.
 
I'd certainly read it, seems like a very promising story and it kept me interested and wanting to know more, and few things can do that. I'm not a great reader so can't really give any helpful advice like the others, but I'd say go for it and god luck
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I didn't understand the first sentence the first time I read it so it may have put me off. Like others have said abit wordy, but keep going, the second section is particularly good.

Haz
 
Well, it's a lot better than the last effort we read on here - you can spell and punctuate and your grammar is OK.

But (and I'm being professionally critical here - I am a writer and former editor) this is a writing style that a friend of mine describes as "Look Mom, I'm writing !"

By which I mean that you are trying waaaay too hard - using too many long or self-consciously 'literary' words (not always correctly), far too many cliched expressions, too many over-long, convoluted sentences, etc. It comes across as pretentious and contrived - like someone putting on a 'posh' accent, or sticking their little finger out when drinking tea - which I'm sure is not your intention!

As an exercise, if I were you, I would try writing the same story in a completely informal, casual style - imagine you are simply telling it to a friend, over a drink in your local pub. Or write as though you were posting it on here as a normal post, not trying to impress anyone with your literary skills, just telling us about your Mum's first horse...

You've got the basics of spelling, grammar and punctuation, which is much more than can be said for many 'aspiring writers' - you just need to be a lot less self-conscious. Try to forget that you are Writing (with a capital 'W'), and just tell the story.

Please don't be offended by any of this - I wouldn't be so harsh (in fact, I wouldn't bother at all) if I didn't think you had some potential.
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