The last entry in this series tackled the beginning of my published novel; this entry turns to the beginning of a short story I don’t believe I’ve ever published, though I’ve shown it to some people. It’s old, just under nine years old as I write this, over nine years old when you read it (which means I wrote it after c. 8 months of writing experience). Expect extensive changes, even using the slightly revised 8-year-old version.

Section 1

Original:

“They’re coming.” The four survivors watched. The scarlet swarm collapsed towards them.  His eyes watching the battle field, his mind elsewhere, Elendar drew his finger over the sword- shaped scar on his chest, wondering -for the last time, he knew- where it had come from: it was his only scar and had been with him from birth, glowing warm and golden at first, slowly waning and waxing as the years passed.

Critique:

This paragraph is choppy as all get out, which is probably going to be a pattern. My propensity for faux-Tolkien names is on evidence, though better here than elsewhere. Yet there are some good instincts here- the way it raises questions, the expectations it sets for the protagonist.

Revised:

Elendar flexed his hands carefully, preparing. He could hear his comrades praying behind him, three voices gentle and steady, and he joined them. From before, from behind, from all around came the swarm, rotten red and brown. They’re coming.

His chest moved in even breaths, the scar they all shared hidden beneath his breastplate. He knew it shone regardless, a ragged-edged sword without a point, torn open in his birth pangs and luminous. They come.

Edits:

1. I start with the protagonist’s name, not floating dialogue. “They’re coming,” in the original, has no clear attribution (a lot of details are slightly forgotten, actually). This establishes who the reader should expect the story to center on, at least for now (it’s a short story, so he’s where it remains for the whole affair).
2. The original, besides that vague dialogue, starts with two short sentences. Neither sentence is particularly effective imagery. The second tries, at least, but ‘swarm’ is vague as given- not bad, here in the beginning, but the sentence is supposed to tell the reader who’s attacking, which it nearly fails at. The new opening focuses on an immediate sensation, an action nearly every reader will have an understanding of. The anticipation the original sought to develop, the question, is maintained here by ‘preparing,’ which gives purpose and flavor to the gesture.
3. How many comrades does he have? In the original, it’s four, assuming the reader intuits that the protagonist is one of them. This version gives just as much information in saying ‘three voices’ but does so in the context of a sensory experience, one which characterizes them and provides further insight into their situation- that it warrants prayer. That they pray also communicates character.
   1. Every detail is pointed towards communicating the tension and character of the situation, the character of the characters, or both.
4. The swarm comes now, after we’ve been given people to care about. They’re not much more delineated in this version than in the last, but their spatial relationship to the protagonists is clearly established and their colors, once merely ‘scarlet,’ are given a little more specificity and tone. They are also ‘rotten,’ summoning up the reader’s instinctive disgust.
5. ‘They’re coming’ is moved here where it has a speaker to be attributed to, and it’s made thought instead of speech because the characters all know this; him speaking to himself is understood as helping steel his nerve, whereas him explaining to everybody else what they already know just sounds silly.
   1. This could be done differently- he could still speak out loud, though it’d have different connotations and would require slightly different surrounding language to take advantage of. Of such decisions is style made.
6. A paragraph break emphasizes ‘They’re coming’. It gives weight to the thought, a sense of the impact it has on Elendar.
7. The next paragraph resumes with another characterizing physical experience. Even breathing communicates his readiness and his calm; the breastplate hints at the nature of the upcoming confrontation.
   1. The breastplate also allows me to reference the scar without the oddity of him touching his chest while preparing for pitched battle, implying he’s at least shirtless. I think I missed this implication, back in the day.
8. The scar is described in terms of actions and change, not parameters. It is given a little more backstory (and a reason to be a scar instead of a birthmark). It’s no longer his sole scar, a detail I removed because I didn’t see a way to fit it well.
   1. In the original, the scar’s symbolism is clumsy, though this section doesn’t show that off.
9. The reason for the final two words will become evident next section. For now, note how the sudden shortness of the sentence helps emphasize it and keep the paragraph from dragging.

Section 2

Original:

“Draw swords,” ordered Commander Arthur, and four glowing blades pointed outwards in an asymmetrical cross with one arm longer than the other three. They stared while the long hybrid blades flickered and glowed as the photonic edge’s excess slowly dissipated, ignoring the silent crowd pounding towards them. The glow would last only a few hours, till nothing but the molecular light was left. Elendar was glad for his second sword; the glow would dissipate all too quickly as the molecular light broke free.

The only light on the planet came from the four unsheathed swords and the scar under his thin  armor.

Revised:

Captain Arthur ordered them to draw swords, and with a flash four long blades shone ready. Elendar adopted a long guard; the other three, he knew, would keep hanging guard, a broken symmetry in their cross. The swords’ light surged forward, gentle on the wielder and harsh on the foe, a slow dissipation of their molecular light to counter the perpetual gloom. Even with the spare each carried, they’d get only a few hours of light from their swords, but those few hours would be enough. Let them come.

Edits:

1. ‘Commander’ becomes ‘Captain’ because ‘captain’ is shorter (which is usually better, all things being even) and its rhythm works better here.
   1. I don’t have a solid reason for moving the order out of dialogue; I just prefer it. It does result in an antimetabolic correspondence between ‘swords’ at the end of a clause and ‘blades’ in the subject of the next.
   1. The description of the formation they adopt is clunky. Instead….
      1. The ‘flash’ provides a sensory transition between images.
      1. I moved the ‘glowing’ into the verb to be efficient while moving the formation into the next sentence. I added ‘long’ to give a vague idea what type of sword is meant- enough to seed the reader’s image.
      1. The description of the formation is clunky in the original; the clarity of the description does not justify its length. I chose instead to imply the symbol (the classic Roman cross) in passing. If the reader thinks it through, he gets the symbol; if he doesn’t, the description still works on a straightforward level, being more concrete and attached to their actions, not abstract geometry.
      1. I give some description of their physical orientation, helping the reader visualize swordsmen.
   1. I apparently didn’t consider that a light source held in front of one’s eyes is a wonderful way to make it impossible to see past said light. This description fixes that while hinting at the soft-magic aspects of the swords, their mystic element.
      1. The mention of ‘perpetual gloom’ covers most of what the second paragraph-sentence of the excerpt says; the rest will be shifted forward into the next segment. The change from complete darkness to mere gloom also helps explain how the swarm had color prior to the swords being drawn.
   1. The second sword is plot-important, if I remember correctly, otherwise I’d have removed it.
   1. ‘All too quickly’ becomes ‘a few hours.’ The precise time period, admittedly, should be based on the story’s later requirements, and I don’t remember those right now. Bear that in mind when editing your own stories, though- choosing details is influenced by the whole story, not just the immediate context.
   1. The final sentence, added in this version, completes a three-fold series moving from recognition to acceptance to readiness. It punctuates the first three paragraphs to give them more weight, both regarding the circumstances and regarding Elendar’s character.

Section 3

Original:

The first spear entered the sweep of the longswords; a quick flick of his weapon and Elendar threw the spear head to the ground. “We’re the last alive,” said the Commander, removing one hand from his weapon to slide his close- fitting helmet into place.

Elendar knew it was true. But still, Commander Arthur didn’t have to say it. He had accepted the fact that he was one of the four humans still alive. No need to rub it in.

Revised:

Captain Arthur gave their epitaph. “Here we die,” he said, “the last of men, and may God have mercy on our souls.”

Elendar steadied himself, half resenting the captain’s calm as they neared that starless night which was the enemy’s goal. Elendar smiled beneath his helm; the enemy closed.

Edits:

1. I moved the fighting from the beginning of this to the end because I don’t see how they’d have time for all this after the fighting started, given how closely packed the enemy is implied to be and the fervor of their advance. Admittedly, if this was intended to demonstrate the enhanced cutting power of these super-swords, the detail is lost in revision. Sometimes that happens; I’d have to add it in later, were I to continue editing the story past this point.
2. I altered the dialogue in the original. The original reads like exposition crammed into a character’s mouth (because it is). I replaced it with an epitaph, something with a reason to be said. That’s not to say the previous couldn’t be justified, but I like this better.
3. Elendar’s pique is transferred out of choppy sentence fragments, useful only on certain occasions, and fitted a little more to the gravity of the situation, helping introduce the darkness’s description.
   1. I think the two paragraphs are still a little choppy, but I don’t have more time today to fix that.
4. If they’re wielding longswords, they don’t have a hand free to put on the helmets- particularly not in hanging or long guard, which the revision puts them in. So I mention the helms as a detail in characterizing Elendar- his smile- and use that to lead in to the fight beginning. The next paragraph would begin the combat, if I revised that.

Original:

“They’re coming.” The four survivors watched. The scarlet swarm collapsed towards them.  His eyes watching the battle field, his mind elsewhere, Elendar drew his finger over the sword- shaped scar on his chest, wondering -for the last time, he knew- where it had come from: it was his only scar and had been with him from birth, glowing warm and golden at first, slowly waning and waxing as the years passed.

“Draw swords,” ordered Commander Arthur, and four glowing blades pointed outwards in an asymmetrical cross with one arm longer than the other three. They stared while the long hybrid blades flickered and glowed as the photonic edge’s excess slowly dissipated, ignoring the silent crowd pounding towards them. The glow would last only a few hours, till nothing but the molecular light was left. Elendar was glad for his second sword; the glow would dissipate all too quickly as the molecular light broke free.

The only light on the planet came from the four unsheathed swords and the scar under his thin  armor.

The first spear entered the sweep of the longswords; a quick flick of his weapon and Elendar threw the spear head to the ground. “We’re the last alive,” said the Commander, removing one hand from his weapon to slide his close- fitting helmet into place.

Elendar knew it was true. But still, Commander Arthur didn’t have to say it. He had accepted the fact that he was one of the four humans still alive. No need to rub it in.

Complete:

Elendar flexed his hands carefully, preparing. He could hear his comrades praying behind him, three voices gentle and steady, and he joined them. From before, from behind, from all around came the swarm, rotten red and brown. They’re coming.

His chest moved in even breaths, the scar they all shared hidden beneath his breastplate. He knew it shone regardless, a ragged-edged sword without a point, torn open in his birth pangs and luminous. They come.

Captain Arthur ordered them to draw swords, and with a flash four long blades shone ready. Elendar adopted a long guard; the other three, he knew, would keep hanging guard, a broken symmetry in their cross. The swords’ light surged forward, gentle on the wielder and harsh on the foe, a slow dissipation of their molecular light to counter the perpetual gloom. Even with the spare each carried, they’d get only a few hours of light from their swords, but those few hours would be enough. Let them come.

Captain Arthur gave their epitaph. “Here we die,” he said, “the last of men, and may God have mercy on our souls.” Elendar steadied himself, half resenting the captain’s calm as they neared that starless night which was the enemy’s goal. Elendar smiled beneath his helm; the enemy closed.