[Final Fantasy VI] Fic: And Thus a Traitor Was Born
And Thus a Traitor Was Born (12,948 words)
Fandom: FF6
Characters: Locke, Celes, Edgar, Cyan, Gau, Sabin
Summary: One day after the Battle of Narshe, Locke and Celes investigate the mineshaft where three Imperial soldiers-one of them wearing a slave crown-tried to capture an Esper. Celes seems strangely preoccupied with the fates of the two soldiers ( Read more... )
Ah, I thought the beginning was weak too. It's probably because I revised the whole intro section to provide more context in case the reader forgot that part of the game (I'm sure most people don't remember that Locke probably got hit particularly hard during the encounter with the Esper on the cliff in Narshe--it's not something that's particularly highlighted in the game). But in my haste to explain things I probably wrote too, well, hastily. I also moved a lot of stuff around, which I think led to some of the choppiness.
Funny you should say that you think I'm Celes lol. I think it's more that I have always kind of looked up to her even though she bewilders and frustrates me at times. That's why I really enjoyed writing about her from Locke's POV, which I identify with on several levels. I am kind of silly and flaily and clueless like he is. And I tend to put my foot in my mouth and offend people like he does. The only thing I don't have of his are a thirst for adventure and a dead fiancé in my basement.
I'm really glad the overall "feel" of this long story worked for you. I was worried it was kind of choppy in places because I mostly wrote it on my phone. I still see mistakes and awkward spots *wince* One thing I worked really hard on in this fic was trying to build some of the atmosphere through the setting, which I think I made some progress on. I referred sometimes to Ursula K. LeGuin's novel The Left Hand of Darkness, which has some absolutely gorgeous and very real-feeling passages describing an icy planet and the culture that lives on it. She's an anthropologist (among other things) so she is able to build super rich settings and atmospheres that really add to her characterization. Compared to that I still have a very long way to go.
You are always such a thorough reviewer--thank you for your time and effort and willingness to thoughtfully critique :)
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Some sentences are beautiful because of that extraneous detail. Sometimes a scene is there just because it's there, and it felt right to be there. Not everything needs to drive the plot forward or provide insight. Sometimes a thing is described that isn't crucial to anything at all.
Forcing succinctness and brevity, it homogenizes writing. Writing is a trainable skill--but it is art, and people have styles.
You have a wonderful style that is still evolving. I can confidently say that it is beautiful writing, end to end, and you are far, far, far from regressing.
And when anyone points me Hemingway cause he's "king of succinctness," I always pull out this shitfest of a sentence that he wrote and ask which part of it they think is worth emulating:
“That something I cannot yet define completely but the feeling comes when you write well and truly of something and know impersonally you have written in that way and those who are paid to read it and report on it do not like the subject so they say it is all a fake, yet you know its value absolutely; or when you do something which people do not consider a serious occupation and yet you know, truly, that it is as important and has always been as important as all th things that are in fashion, and when, on the sea, you are alone with it and know that this Gulf Stream you are living with, knowing, learning about, and loving, has moved, as it moves, since before man and that it has gone by the shoreline of that long, beautiful, unhappy island since before Columbus sighted it and that the things you find out about it, and those that have always lived in it are permanent and of value because that stream will flow, as it has flowed, after the Indians, after the Spaniards, after the British, after the Americans and after all the Cubans and all the systems of governments, the richness, the poverty, the martyrdom, the sacrifice and the venality and the cruelty are all gone as the high-piled scow of garbage, bright-colored, white-flecked, ill-smelling, now tilted on its side, spills off its load into the blue water, turning it a pale green to a depth of four or five fathoms as the load spreads across the surface, the sinkable part going down and the flotsam of palm fronds, corks, bottles, and used electric light globes, seasoned with an occasional condom or a deep floating corset, the torn leaves of a student's exercise book, a well-inflated dog, the occasional rat, the no-longer-distinguished cat; well shepherded by the boats of the garbage pickers who pluck their prizes with long poles, as interested, as intelligent, and as accurate as historians; they have the viewpoint; the stream, with no visible flow, takes five loads of this a day when things are going well in La Habana and in ten miles along the coast it is as clear and blue and unimpressed as it was ever before the tug hauled out the scow; and the palm fronds of our victories, the worn light bulbs of our discoveries and the empty condoms of our great loves float with no significance against one single, lasting thing - the stream.”
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I don't personally like Hemingway that much. And wow, that sentence you posted was shockingly long-winded. Never would've thought Hemingway--a journalist--could have published something so drippy and indulgent. I see it was one of his earlier works. No wonder he became so succinct--his long sentences were terrible!
I totally agree with you that a lot of "succinct" writing is just bland writing, or eloquent-sounding but not particularly original. A lot of fanfic feels like that to me nowadays--a lot of it is written in the same style. But there is some writing out there that is simple, and succinct, and yet it is just a cut above the rest, you know? A lot of it has to do with rhythm, which I feel like I can develop, but a lot of it has to do with a depth of thinking and observation that I don't feel like I can develop. I'm not a very sensitive person and I don't notice much--at least not in Real Life. Sure, I can analyze literature and imagine a lot of crap into existence though, but the things I imagine need to connect to life or else they will feel false in the end. At some point when I was younger, I felt like I could do this well enough without thinking about it, but now I have to consciously think about it and edit like crazy and it takes forever and it is annoying. Maybe the end result is good, but the amount of time taken to put out x number of words keeps getting longer.
Anyway, maybe I need to stop worrying about writing so much and just write more. But that will be after my stupid Master's thesis is done next year -_-
p.s. do you have any suggestions for how to fix the intro of And Thus a Traitor?
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In regards to the intro., I think it's the same observations you noted. I think your instincts are right that orienting the reader to where the scene fits in-game is helpful. From a reading standpoint my initial sense when I read it, true or not, pacing felt off until about somewhere between the third and fourth sections of Chapter 1. I wouldn't fix the intro now though, the work is completed.
I'd note that the yesterday/yesterday/yesterday/today refrain was inelegant writing. Yesterday/yesterday/today (the classic x, x, y turn) is better, or yesterday (expounded)/today (or & today). It's really jarring because I know how carefully you think, polish, and edit a work, so I was surprised by that.
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I will try to fix the intro a little bit, if only for technical practice. I get the yesterday/yesterday/today rhythm, but what do you mean by yesterday (expounded)/today (or & today)?
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i.e. you currently have:
"Yesterday, abc
Yesterday, 123
Yesterday, do re mi
Today, you and me"
Can become:
"Yesterday, the city of Narshe was crawling with Imperial soldiers, Imperial magitek armour units, and one psychotic Imperial clown. Returner forces had finally came out of hiding, banding with local militia to fight off the invasion. Together they barely managed to toss the Imperials off the mountain. Terra had stood at the edge of that mountain and screamed an unearthly scream of pain or madness or maybe ecstasy (it could have been all three at once), before turning pink and fiery and flying off in a blaze of light...as far as Locke could remember anyway.
Today, Locke woke up in a bed with a spotty memory of blue Esper magic blasting him in the face, a thousand aches in his body, a scribbled doctor's note on the nightstand telling him to get as much rest as possible for at least a week...and an unwashed wild child bounding delightedly through the door toward his bed."
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https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851383
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