I mentioned previously that I know my writing needs a lot of work. Well one of the best pieces of advice I've received so far in my writing is this. Show Don't Tell. Throughout most of my first draft I found I had such a vivid image in my mind and I wanted to convey exactly what I saw happening. Of course, words can only describe so much. If you want an example of the limitations of language, try to write an instruction set on how to tie your shoes. Once you think you have it, give it to someone else to follow exactly how it is written. Trust me, it get's annoying fast. English just doesn't have the words of expressions to capture every type of motion. I found myself going into extreme detail and using redundancies simply to tell the reader how someone jumped.

In order to avoid this, you may have to make some sacrifices. I know I did. Sure it might not seem as epic to you, but if done correctly, your reader can fill in the gaps with their own imagination. Here's my crappy example.

In my first draft I wrote...
Lee playfully whirled the weapons in a windmill pattern about him before planting the tips into the dirt in front of him. 

After reading it I switched to...
His swords danced teasingly about before resting just in front of him. 

The second could be interpreted in many ways and I am no longer telling the reader exactly what he did. I certainly find it more appealing as a reader but I think it still has room for improvement. If you are a new writer watch out for sentences like the first one. I know I have a lot of editing to do now because I was too focused on explaining a perfect image instead of leaving it for the reader to see themselves.



I've also recently made a decision to begin a new project and to post my new story instead of chapters from my manuscript. My reasoning is that I want to develop my skills on a smaller project before really going at the story I've had in my head for so long. Truth is, I'm ready to fail but I don't want to drag my main story down with me because it's too good of an idea for me to slander. So here is the first bit from my new story.

Chapter 1:

Another muggy night felt all the more stifling sitting next to a vent of steam rising up from the sewers. The few lit lamps caught the low haze to give the whole street a dull glow. Theo drew a pack from inside his jacket and smacked out a cig. While he smoked, he gazed hollowly at the twisting wisps of smoke that rose from the ember.

A rap of knuckles tapped on the doorframe behind him. “Another night they won’t show?”

“They’ll show,” he answered. Another long drag served to calm his nerves. “New gangs rely on mind games to give them an advantage.”

“Do you think-“

“No Marc and neither should you.” He tapped ashes off his smoke just inches from Marc’s shoes; a clear signal to get lost.

Theo tried and failed to get back into his earlier state of mind while listening to the fading footsteps. Before Marc interrupted him he had felt like the only person in the city. To his right, an empty street stretched beyond his vision. The misshapen houses were all shuttered and locked tight as well as could be. Any self-aware resident knew what went down at this time of night.

To his left, the wall cut perpendicular to the street, capping it off a few yards after it passed his stoop. No barbed wire adorned the top, no guards patrolled its length, and no law prevented him from scaling it. Still, it was amazing the psychological effect a ten foot wall could have. Pristine lights of every color shown down over the barrier from arching condos and offices. Although it was clear that the far side was inhabited, on this night there were no sounds echoing through the humid air.

His cigarette neared its end. Rather than saver the last few puffs, he flicked the butt towards a mucky pothole and was rewarded with the slightest splash when it hit his mark. He felt ready now, ready to defend his turf for the third time in a month. It seemed about time for them to make their appearance. He would know, they were using his favorite technique.

A quick bout of shadow boxing raised his heart rate to where he knew it needed to be. Someone inside must have noticed him judging by the sounds now coming through the door-less entry. Hearing his platoon gear up gave him chills. The kind of chills he used to get stepping onto the canvass before thousands of cheering fans. Except things were far more feral now. No referee or clock would stop the fight and rules were a thing of the past. What better way to test his skills though? When he finally made his comeback he would be unstoppable. No coddled rich brat could stand up to fists that fought for survival instead of a trophy.