correction

It was way past dark when the weekly guild meeting had concluded. Jean walked quietly on the tiled roads, his head filled with the discussions and arguments that had occurred in that large bright hall they called the Thompson Merchants Guild.  The streets were now dark and empty, as if the life of the city had been drained with the setting of the sun and the only company for the merchant was the occasional stray cats looking for a meal. The desolate night streets were not without reason; thieves and bandits, the scum of Pyre emerge from their dark holes when the sun sets. His bodyguard, Jarl as always walked quietly behind his employer, his armor gleamed in the moonlight. For such a large and intimidating man, the swordsman could move as quickly and quietly as a cat. Jean passed a look back and saw the swordsman as alert as a wolf on a hunt. Jean smiled to himself, any would be thief or bandit after my purse is in for a quick end. As if they were reading his thoughts, two men emerged from a dark alley in front of him. There were dark, dangerous men dressed in dirty tunics; one of them wore rusty maille under his rags, probably stolen from a corpse that lied in some forgotten battlefield. They were armed with rusty swords and had dirks strapped to their belts. Before Jean could say a word, Jarl had already stepped in front of his master with sword in hand.  

 “The foxes come to the hound's jaws," he said with a fierce grin. He stepped into a middle guard stance with the tip of his longsword pointed at the thieves. Jean had no doubt that the thieves were no match for Jarl’s experience and sheer ferocity in battle. But even Jean knew that it was still dangerous to face multiple enemies in battle. Time to prove that you’re worth your silver, thought Jean.

The thieves were the first to break the silence.  With a yell one of them lunged forward swinging the sword above his head. It was obvious that he had never had formal training in swordsmanship. With a short step forward Jarl thrusted the tip of his longsword through his attacker’s throat with a soft crunch.....

This is a critique of Arththi's creative workshop paragraph.

• Use of language is accurate with no noticeable spelling mistakes.
• Good use of tense which was the past tense, however  the line "The source of the smoke lay in Halim's hands" was written mistakenly in present tense.
• a clear author's voice
• a writing style that is plausible and suitable for this kind of fiction with description that is true to Malaysian life and a good description of setting.
• There is no need for suspension of disbelief because it is a realistic work.
• It is well written that the images of the story can be reached and understood by the reader

Things I like:

• edgy and realistic material in the story like smoking ganja, family problems,etc
• Descriptions that is "Malaysian" like mango tree, the hot weather, mother's curry,etc

Things to improve on:

• More creative choice of words and sentences.
• a better flow from one action to the next, ie the flow of writing from ganja smoking to the inner thoughts of the character could be made to flow clearer.

Creative Writing WORKSHOP paragraph

It was way past dark when the weekly guild meeting was over. Jean walked quietly on the tiled roads, his mind filled with the numerous discussions that had occurred in that large bright hall they called the Thompson Merchants Guild.  The streets were now dark and empty, as if the life of the city had been drained with the setting of the sun and the only company for the merchant was the occasional stray cats looking for a meal. The desolate night streets were not without reason; thieves and bandits, the scum of Pyre emerge from their dark holes when the night rises. His bodyguard Jarl as always walked quietly behind his employer. For such a large and intimidating man, the swordsman could move as quickly and quietly as a cat, his armor gleamed in the moonlight. Jean passed a look back at Jarl and saw him with hand on the sword hilt and eyes alert. Jean smiled to himself, any would be thief or bandit after my purse is in for a quick end. As if to prove the truth of his thoughts two men emerged from a dark alley in front of him. There were dark, dangerous men dressed in a dirty tunic; one of them has a rusty maille under his rags. They were armed with sword and mace. Before Jean could say a word Jarl had already stepped in front of his master with sword in hand. “The foxes come to the hound's jaws," he said with a fierce grin. Time to prove your worth, thought Jean.

Critique of dialogue

Critique of Arththi’s dialogue exercise

·         Told from a third person omniscient POV of an argument between siblings

·         Follows the rules of written dialogue relatively well

·         Good dialogue that slowly reveals the plot and character motivations

·         Decent use of nativisation, words like abah, lbu, lah is used appropriately.

·         The tense is sometimes inconsistent. I.e. past and present tense

·         Some weird wordings or descriptions

·         Overall a decent piece of work.

Dialogue Practice

Miria skips merrily on her way back from the candy store. Her thoughts fill with chocolate and cake as she pets her two plastic bags filled with cakes. “I never want to see you again!” a voice reaches her ears.

She turns towards the sound and to her right stood a woman. Her face in a frown and a long shaky finger was pointing at a man. “I told you, I had nothing to do with it,” he said as he stomp his foot into the wet pavement.

She grinded her teeth and said “More lies! Is that the only thing you’re good for brother?” she gave a pause. “I know father fell ill because you broke his heart, you ran off with some stripper slut and left him broken,” she continued.

 “He had so many dreams for your future!” she said staring straight at the men with the umbrella.

 “Father was always trying to control my life because he had no control over his,” he puffed his chest, “I am my own man!” he said tapping his umbrella on the ground.

The women stared daggers as she took a heavy step forward. In three quick steps, Miria was between them. She gave her bags to both of them, her face shining with a smile.  The man and woman stared at her with mouths hanging upon. “Cakes make everyone happy!” Miria says as they take the bags from her and then look bewildered at each other for a whole minute. Suddenly, the two of them broke out in laughter. Her work done, Miria continues skipping on her way back home.

Character and Setting Exercise

·          CHARACTER

      A 24 year old male merchant named Jean

·         Living in a large trade city far from his homeland

·         Fourth son of a noble family

·         He would not have been able to inherit his family’s noble holdings

·         He was not skilled in sword or steed as a result he made a lousy knight or warrior.

·         Demanded his inheritance from his father and left home to make his mark

·         Currently seeking to expand his influence in the city and the merchant’s guild.

·         Good looking, confident, and charismatic

·         A womanizer

·         Can be ruthless in business dealings

·         Due to his noble birth, he can be arrogant, overconfident and thinks highly of himself while looking down on others, especially commoners.

·         However, he does give people credit if they prove their worth

A young comely man paces himself back and forth in a small but well furnished hall. His brow frowns lightly as the candle light shine on his face. He stops and looks at the boy seated at the table. Clearing his throat, he asks “You are absolutely sure, that Mr Lionel will announce that he is selling his bakery tomorrow?” A slight smirk lit the boy’s face. “Yes Mr Jean sir and you are the first merchant in this city that knows this. I guarantee it!” The boy was no more than twelve; a quick glance at the boy’s rugged clothes will tell you that he is a street rat, one of many that roam the streets. Little in this city can escape their sharp ears or their thieving fingers. But this mouse’s eyes show certain cleverness. He is no fool, nor a liar. Jean reflected. He flips a shiny silver coin and the boy’s quick hands seize it swiftly. “I thank you Sir! I look forward in helping you again” and with nary a sound the boy was gone. “I guess even rodents have their use” he said to no one in particular. He walks over to the table and sit, pouring himself a cup of wine deliberately slow allowing himself some thought. Six years since he came to Pyre, the great city of trade and ships, to make his fortune and more importantly his name. Since then, he had obtained a winery and dye works and contracted a trade caravan five wagons strong. The guild says he is making great progress but he knows better. This isn’t nearly enough for a son of House Claissen. The sound of spilling wine brought him back to his senses. Calmly lifting the cup to his lips he smiled to himself. He will make an offer to Mr Lionel that can’t be refused first thing in the morning.

SETTING 

·         A busy market street in the great trade city of Pyre

·         Line with rows of shops with nearly every kind of craft: tailors, armourers, blacksmiths, weavers,etc

·         The streets are tiled and kept in good condition, a sign of wealth

·         The buildings are well made, painted, and crafted with mosaics or paintings

·         People crowds the streets busy buying and selling

·         The smell of food, spices, steel, dirt and fire fill the air

·         Street rats wander patiently looking for a loose purse.

The sun had barely risen over the horizon of walls and buildings but the merchant was in a hurry. He trotted quickly ahead, his steps as gleeful as a child. Behind him followed a tall man who was broad of shoulder and strong of arm. He wore an undecorated steel breastplate over maille, the nicks and bumps on its surface the evidence of many skirmishes. He had a face that would frighten a bear and the merchant would have it no other way. A hired sword with a comely face would not serve half as well at deterring would be thieves. As he turned a corner, he reached a busy market street. The sights and sounds of the market overwhelm his senses. The smell of food, spices, steel, dirt and fire filled the air. His stomach groaned but there was no time to stall and he hurried on his way. He passes by rows upon rows of shops selling everything from weapons to food to clothes to horses and people crowd the streets looking for the best deals. It is said that nothing under the sun could not be bought in the city of Pyre. The buildings and street were cobbled and crafted to near perfection, a sign of the city’s immense wealth. A wealth that Jean hopes to one day share. At last he reached his destination, the Lionel bakery. The double storied building was aged but still stood strong, he could see rows of bread and pastries lined behind the windows and people entering and leaving. “Well, we’re here” he said to Jarl, his bodyguard. The swordsman smirked “What if he refuses your offer?’. “He won’t, not with the amount I’m paying him, besides...” Jean turns around to face his sword. “If he does you just have to growl at him a little, with your face he will agree to my offer in no time”. Jarl laughed a hoarse laugh “So much for being an honest merchant” “All is fair in love and business” the merchant answered as they stepped through the wooden doors.

(c) Daniel Madrigal 2011. All rights reserved

Poetry Hyperlink Project-"Musings in an aquarium"

 

Aqua bowl, sealed sea

A fish that questions the world

Freedom, like a bird

Girl with braid departs like wind

Comfort gone like the tree leaves 

(DANIEL MADRIGAL   A129471