The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

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O Wildish
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The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby O Wildish » 2012-02-15 08:10pm

Just posted the beginning of my first chapter I hope this story, which is a bit of an experiment, turns out well I'm putting a lot of thought and research into this, I'm not very confident please take the time to advice me on this, I'm open to most suggestions or even to just tell me how well my story is going or tell me of any mistakes, some may be deliberate, I hope at least people will like it, it's intended to be a what if they kind of thing, I might ask specific questions, it is very much a work in progress, I personally can't wait for wait till the main baddies show up... but I'll have to give them a good enterance, I choose the 4th Doctor as I wanted it to be as contempory to that 70s/80s era as possible, as if it had been made as a TV movie or serial at that time, if that makes sense?
I hope you will enjoy :)

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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby madd0ct0r » 2012-02-15 11:07pm

ok. I think the mods will move the commentary into the same thread as the story, but Ill post here for now.

Reading it, I'm going to guess that English is your first language, and you're quite young.

First things first: adverbs. grinned mischivuosly, chuckled in disbelief, smiling sweetly ect ect

kill all the adverbs.

Secondly, restrain the verbs. Stephen King once said that if you have to use any talking verb except for 'said' you've failed to tell the audience the situation properly. They're a distraction from the clear image in the reader's mind.

Thirdly, amputate your sentences. A sentence is a single thought. I appreciate you trying to show the flow of natural conversation or the stream of consciousness of the thinker, but clear concise sentences make for much easier (and thus more absorbing) reading. This sentence is much clearer then the preceding one, yes?

Dialouge is a difficult thing to master. You're trying to show the natural back and forth of a conversation, but often the exact words spoken aren't important. Lets look at some examples:

From Wuthering Heights:

Mr. Heathcliff and his man climbed the cellar steps with vexatious phlegm: I don't think they moved one second faster than usual, though the hearth was an absolute tempest of worrying and yelping. Happily, an inhabitant of the kitchen made more despatch: a lusty dame, with tucked-up gown, bare arms, and fire-flushed cheeks, rushed into the midst of us flourishing a frying-pan: and used that weapon, and her tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsided magically, and she only remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind, when her master entered on the scene.

'What the devil is the matter?' he asked, eyeing me in a manner that I could ill endure, after this inhospitable treatment.

'What the devil, indeed!' I muttered. 'The herd of possessed swine could have had no worse spirits in them than those animals of yours, sir. You might as well leave a stranger with a brood of tigers!'

'They won't meddle with persons who touch nothing,' he remarked, putting the bottle before me, and restoring the displaced table. 'The dogs do right to be vigilant. Take a glass of wine?'

'No, thank you.'

'Not bitten, are you?'

'If I had been, I would have set my signet on the biter.' Heathcliff's countenance relaxed into a grin.

'Come, come,' he said, 'you are flurried, Mr. Lockwood. Here, take a little wine. Guests are so exceedingly rare in this house that I and my dogs, I am willing to own, hardly know how to receive them. Your health, sir?'

I bowed and returned the pledge; beginning to perceive that it would be foolish to sit sulking for the misbehaviour of a pack of curs; besides, I felt loth to yield the fellow further amusement at my expense; since his humour took that turn. He - probably swayed by prudential consideration of the folly of offending a good tenant - relaxed a little in the laconic style of chipping off his pronouns and auxiliary verbs, and introduced what he supposed would be a subject of interest to me, - a discourse on the advantages and disadvantages of my present place of retirement.

Long rambling sentences, but look how few times she describes how they're talking (or even who), instead letting the words speak for themselves.

I'm going to stick an entire short story by SAKI here, as he neatly covers exposition, dialogue and the natural flow of a conversation:
Leonard Bilsiter was one of those people who have failed to find this world attractive or interesting, and who have sought compensation in an “unseen world” of their own experience or imagination—or invention. Children do that sort of thing successfully, but children are content to convince themselves, and do not vulgarise their beliefs by trying to convince other people. Leonard Bilsiter’s beliefs were for “the few,” that is to say, anyone who would listen to him.

His dabblings in the unseen might not have carried him beyond the customary platitudes of the drawing-room visionary if accident had not reinforced his stock-in-trade of mystical lore. In company with a friend, who was interested in a Ural mining concern, he had made a trip across Eastern Europe at a moment when the great Russian railway strike was developing from a threat to a reality; its outbreak caught him on the return journey, somewhere on the further side of Perm, and it was while waiting for a couple of days at a wayside station in a state of suspended locomotion that he made the acquaintance of a dealer in harness and metalware, who profitably whiled away the tedium of the long halt by initiating his English travelling companion in a fragmentary system of folk-lore that he had picked up from Trans-Baikal traders and natives. Leonard returned to his home circle garrulous about his Russian strike experiences, but oppressively reticent about certain dark mysteries, which he alluded to under the resounding title of Siberian Magic. The reticence wore off in a week or two under the influence of an entire lack of general curiosity, and Leonard began to make more detailed allusions to the enormous powers which this new esoteric force, to use his own description of it, conferred on the initiated few who knew how to wield it. His aunt, Cecilia Hoops, who loved sensation perhaps rather better than she loved the truth, gave him as clamorous an advertisement as anyone could wish for by retailing an account of how he had turned a vegetable marrow into a wood pigeon before her very eyes. As a manifestation of the possession of supernatural powers, the story was discounted in some quarters by the respect accorded to Mrs. Hoops’ powers of imagination.

However divided opinion might be on the question of Leonard’s status as a wonderworker or a charlatan, he certainly arrived at Mary Hampton’s house-party with a reputation for pre-eminence in one or other of those professions, and he was not disposed to shun such publicity as might fall to his share. Esoteric forces and unusual powers figured largely in whatever conversation he or his aunt had a share in, and his own performances, past and potential, were the subject of mysterious hints and dark avowals.

“I wish you would turn me into a wolf, Mr. Bilsiter,” said his hostess at luncheon the day after his arrival.

“My dear Mary,” said Colonel Hampton, “I never knew you had a craving in that direction.”

“A she-wolf, of course,” continued Mrs. Hampton; “it would be too confusing to change one’s sex as well as one’s species at a moment’s notice.”

“I don’t think one should jest on these subjects,” said Leonard.

“I’m not jesting, I’m quite serious, I assure you. Only don’t do it to-day; we have only eight available bridge players, and it would break up one of our tables. To-morrow we shall be a larger party. To-morrow night, after dinner—”

“In our present imperfect understanding of these hidden forces I think one should approach them with humbleness rather than mockery,” observed Leonard, with such severity that the subject was forthwith dropped.

Clovis Sangrail had sat unusually silent during the discussion on the possibilities of Siberian Magic; after lunch he side-tracked Lord Pabham into the comparative seclusion of the billiard-room and delivered himself of a searching question.

“Have you such a thing as a she-wolf in your collection of wild animals? A she-wolf of moderately good temper?”

Lord Pabham considered. “There is Louisa,” he said, “a rather fine specimen of the timber-wolf. I got her two years ago in exchange for some Arctic foxes. Most of my animals get to be fairly tame before they’ve been with me very long; I think I can say Louisa has an angelic temper, as she-wolves go. Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering whether you would lend her to me for to-morrow night,” said Clovis, with the careless solicitude of one who borrows a collar stud or a tennis racquet.

“To-morrow night?”

“Yes, wolves are nocturnal animals, so the late hours won’t hurt her,” said Clovis, with the air of one who has taken everything into consideration; “one of your men could bring her over from Pabham Park after dusk, and with a little help he ought to be able to smuggle her into the conservatory at the same moment that Mary Hampton makes an unobtrusive exit.”

Lord Pabham stared at Clovis for a moment in pardonable bewilderment; then his face broke into a wrinkled network of laughter.

“Oh, that’s your game, is it? You are going to do a little Siberian Magic on your own account. And is Mrs. Hampton willing to be a fellow-conspirator?”

“Mary is pledged to see me through with it, if you will guarantee Louisa’s temper.”

“I’ll answer for Louisa,” said Lord Pabham.

By the following day the house-party had swollen to larger proportions, and Bilsiter’s instinct for self-advertisement expanded duly under the stimulant of an increased audience. At dinner that evening he held forth at length on the subject of unseen forces and untested powers, and his flow of impressive eloquence continued unabated while coffee was being served in the drawing-room preparatory to a general migration to the card-room.

His aunt ensured a respectful hearing for his utterances, but her sensation-loving soul hankered after something more dramatic than mere vocal demonstration.

“Won’t you do something to convince them of your powers, Leonard?” she pleaded; “change something into another shape. He can, you know, if he only chooses to,” she informed the company.

“Oh, do,” said Mavis Pellington earnestly, and her request was echoed by nearly everyone present. Even those who were not open to conviction were perfectly willing to be entertained by an exhibition of amateur conjuring.

Leonard felt that something tangible was expected of him.

“Has anyone present,” he asked, “got a three-penny bit or some small object of no particular value—?”

“You’re surely not going to make coins disappear, or something primitive of that sort?” said Clovis contemptuously.

“I think it very unkind of you not to carry out my suggestion of turning me into a wolf,” said Mary Hampton, as she crossed over to the conservatory to give her macaws their usual tribute from the dessert dishes.

“I have already warned you of the danger of treating these powers in a mocking spirit,” said Leonard solemnly.

“I don’t believe you can do it,” laughed Mary provocatively from the conservatory; “I dare you to do it if you can. I defy you to turn me into a wolf.”

As she said this she was lost to view behind a clump of azaleas.

“Mrs. Hampton—” began Leonard with increased solemnity, but he got no further. A breath of chill air seemed to rush across the room, and at the same time the macaws broke forth into ear-splitting screams.

“What on earth is the matter with those confounded birds, Mary?” exclaimed Colonel Hampton; at the same moment an even more piercing scream from Mavis Pellington stampeded the entire company from their seats. In various attitudes of helpless horror or instinctive defence they confronted the evil-looking grey beast that was peering at them from amid a setting of fern and azalea.

Mrs. Hoops was the first to recover from the general chaos of fright and bewilderment.

“Leonard!” she screamed shrilly to her nephew, “turn it back into Mrs. Hampton at once! It may fly at us at any moment. Turn it back!”

“I—I don’t know how to,” faltered Leonard, who looked more scared and horrified than anyone.

“What!” shouted Colonel Hampton, “you’ve taken the abominable liberty of turning my wife into a wolf, and now you stand there calmly and say you can’t turn her back again!”

To do strict justice to Leonard, calmness was not a distinguishing feature of his attitude at the moment.

“I assure you I didn’t turn Mrs. Hampton into a wolf; nothing was farther from my intentions,” he protested.

“Then where is she, and how came that animal into the conservatory?” demanded the Colonel.

“Of course we must accept your assurance that you didn’t turn Mrs. Hampton into a wolf,” said Clovis politely, “but you will agree that appearances are against you.”

“Are we to have all these recriminations with that beast standing there ready to tear us to pieces?” wailed Mavis indignantly.

“Lord Pabham, you know a good deal about wild beasts—” suggested Colonel Hampton.

“The wild beasts that I have been accustomed to,” said Lord Pabham, “have come with proper credentials from well-known dealers, or have been bred in my own menagerie. I’ve never before been confronted with an animal that walks unconcernedly out of an azalea bush, leaving a charming and popular hostess unaccounted for. As far as one can judge from outward characteristics,” he continued, “it has the appearance of a well-grown female of the North American timber-wolf, a variety of the common species canis lupus.”

“Oh, never mind its Latin name,” screamed Mavis, as the beast came a step or two further into the room; “can’t you entice it away with food, and shut it up where it can’t do any harm?”

“If it is really Mrs. Hampton, who has just had a very good dinner, I don’t suppose food will appeal to it very strongly,” said Clovis.

“Leonard,” beseeched Mrs. Hoops tearfully, “even if this is none of your doing can’t you use your great powers to turn this dreadful beast into something harmless before it bites us all—a rabbit or something?”

“I don’t suppose Colonel Hampton would care to have his wife turned into a succession of fancy animals as though we were playing a round game with her,” interposed Clovis.

“I absolutely forbid it,” thundered the Colonel.

“Most wolves that I’ve had anything to do with have been inordinately fond of sugar,” said Lord Pabham; “if you like I’ll try the effect on this one.”

He took a piece of sugar from the saucer of his coffee cup and flung it to the expectant Louisa, who snapped it in mid-air. There was a sigh of relief from the company; a wolf that ate sugar when it might at the least have been employed in tearing macaws to pieces had already shed some of its terrors. The sigh deepened to a gasp of thanks-giving when Lord Pabham decoyed the animal out of the room by a pretended largesse of further sugar. There was an instant rush to the vacated conservatory. There was no trace of Mrs. Hampton except the plate containing the macaws’ supper.

“The door is locked on the inside!” exclaimed Clovis, who had deftly turned the key as he affected to test it.

Everyone turned towards Bilsiter.

“If you haven’t turned my wife into a wolf,” said Colonel Hampton, “will you kindly explain where she has disappeared to, since she obviously could not have gone through a locked door? I will not press you for an explanation of how a North American timber-wolf suddenly appeared in the conservatory, but I think I have some right to inquire what has become of Mrs. Hampton.”

Bilsiter’s reiterated disclaimer was met with a general murmur of impatient disbelief.

“I refuse to stay another hour under this roof,” declared Mavis Pellington.

“If our hostess has really vanished out of human form,” said Mrs. Hoops, “none of the ladies of the party can very well remain. I absolutely decline to be chaperoned by a wolf!”

“It’s a she-wolf,” said Clovis soothingly.

The correct etiquette to be observed under the unusual circumstances received no further elucidation. The sudden entry of Mary Hampton deprived the discussion of its immediate interest.

“Some one has mesmerised me,” she exclaimed crossly; “I found myself in the game larder, of all places, being fed with sugar by Lord Pabham. I hate being mesmerised, and the doctor has forbidden me to touch sugar.”

The situation was explained to her, as far as it permitted of anything that could be called explanation.

“Then you really did turn me into a wolf, Mr. Bilsiter?” she exclaimed excitedly.

But Leonard had burned the boat in which he might now have embarked on a sea of glory. He could only shake his head feebly.

“It was I who took that liberty,” said Clovis; “you see, I happen to have lived for a couple of years in North-Eastern Russia, and I have more than a tourist’s acquaintance with the magic craft of that region. One does not care to speak about these strange powers, but once in a way, when one hears a lot of nonsense being talked about them, one is tempted to show what Siberian magic can accomplish in the hands of someone who really understands it. I yielded to that temptation. May I have some brandy? the effort has left me rather faint.”

If Leonard Bilsiter could at that moment have transformed Clovis into a cockroach and then have stepped on him he would gladly have performed both operations.

you see how he directs the rhythm of the conversation? You don't need to know how people are talking because their words make show their feelings and body language as clearly if you were watching them.

Even though it's a large group of people talking, it's still easy to track who's speaking, as nobody speaks (or is recorded as speaking) unless it's their 'turn' or they have something important to say.

Even though this is was written in 1914, the vocab is quite restrained too: he uses declared, exclaimed and said.
Adverbs and 'thundered' are used sparingly, making them much more powerful when used.

I know I'm advocating fairly radical surgery, but I think your work would be better for it.
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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby O Wildish » 2012-02-16 07:13am

Thank you very much, English isn't just my first language, sadly it's my only, although I wouldn't mind learning Japanize if I could among others, but my brain isn't wired properly, not that I'm unintelligent I hope. grammer is terrible a weakness of mine, one that I wish to correct, this I beleve maybe due to poor (thought not not bad) schooling and no one picking up on and taking into account my dyslexia and particularly my Asperger's syndome, I never had that push I needed, I'm bit of a slow learner I admit but I hope to get this right, this is exactly what I need, though I'm not very confident I love love writing. As suggested I've made some changes, I hope it does the trick, can any one guess who the main baddies are yet?

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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby madd0ct0r » 2012-02-16 09:13pm

I'm heavily dyslexic, and like half the people here I'm not exactly a people person either. No excuses ;)

lesse, you killed the adverbs and throttled back the verbs a little. It's definitely getting better. Right.

Let's look at the spoken words themselves. Do they reflect how people speak? should they?

We FOLLOW Kara as she grins and goes down two more left-hand turns and then back down the
Passageway and then DROPPING OFF on three enlisted Deck Hands -- PROSNA (18, male),
CALLY (21, female), SOCINUS (18, male) -- rushing somewhere in a hurry, and trying to get their
uniforms in order. Prosna has a FLAT WRAPPED PACKAGE.

C'mon! Chief's gonna have our ass!

I know, I know! Can't get this insignia to line-up...

(sees Adama)
There's the Old Man now! C'mon, we gotta go!

They pass by LT. GAETA (20s) and we DROP OFF on him as he stops Adama. Gaeta has a

Morning, sir.
(hands him messages)
Com traffic from the midwatch.

(re: messages)
Anything interesting?

Mostly housekeeping. Oh, there is one odd message we
were copied on.
(shows him the message)
The one from Fleet headquarters. Courier officer's
overdue coming back from Armistice station.


They're asking for a status report on all FTL capable
ships in case they need someone to Jump out there
tomorrow and see if his ship's had a mechanical

I think we're a little busy tomorrow, Mr. Gaeta. What do
you think?

So, Gaeta speaks in clipped, nonense sentences like any effecient aide.

Adama speaks little - it's Gaeta's job to tell him what's going on. When he does speak it's with a touch of wry humour. He's clearly the boss and is old and confident enough to not need to remind people. He commands respect, not demanding it.

The three deckhands speak quickly, in short exclamations. Instantly we know they're in a rush, that they're being informal (indicating friendship and hinting at their lack of rank) and that they're part of the military.

now lets look directly at your work:

Meanwhile, Boomer woke up from being stunned “ooh, my head” he complained, then he realized he and Jolly, who was still unconscious, were now strapped to a chair, inside a spacious white, many sided room which had a number of roundels on, at the center of the room was a mushroom shaped console with a transparent glowing cylinder on top. Standing by the console was an attractive blond woman, who was watching the three Viper pilots returning to the Galactica on the main viewer.

“Where the hell am I!” demanded Boomer, making the woman jump out her skin.

“Oh? You're awake, sorry about this, I'm Romana and you are on board the Doctor's TARDIS” explained Romana politely.

“Doctor... Who?” asked Boomer, to which Romana merely smiled and shrugged.

“Ok then, whats a TARDIS?” Boomer continued

“It's our ship, it stands for Time and Relative Dimension In Space.” Romana replied.

“A Time Ship?” Boomer exclaimed, scarcely believing this, “Why am I tied up anyway am I your prisoner or something, do you realize how much trouble you guys are in?” he continued

“err, no, we just don't want you to shoot anyone” replied Romana.

“I wasn't going to” protested Boomer but trying to sound more friendly

“Well you did point a gun at the Doctor” Romana replied with a sigh.

“The Launch Bay is off limits to civilians, for all I know, you could be space pirates or Cylon spies or
something” Boomer explained.

“But we're not, we mean you no harm, we're Time-Lords and what's a Cylon?” asked Romana innocently.

“You don't know what a Cylon is? Then pray you never will” replied Boomer coldly. Just at that moment Jolly started to stir. Suddenly the TARDIS lurched as did the Galactica as the massive ship positioned herself and began to attack the asteroids firing all her lazer cannons, in the TARDIS, the lights started to dimmed.

“On no, whatever is affecting your ship is affecting the TARDIS!” Romana realized, almost panicking

“Oooh, what was that, whats going on, are we under attack?” Jolly groaned as he awoke, then he realized his new surroundings and his and Boomer's predicament.

1. Meanwhile... good. You're jumping between 4 or 5 scenes that are all happening at the same time. This isn't a film, we don't have the automatic recognition that seeing the background normally gives. A throwawy sentence helps remind the reader where they are and what's happening. I know you're dealing with fanfic stuff here, so none of the characters need a heavy introduction, but there is an awful lot happening at once in the story. Little stuff like 'meanwhile' helps separate it up. Remember, you want to make it as easy to read as possible to draw the reader in. You did it well here, but a few other places it's not so clear

2. “Why am I tied up anyway am I your prisoner or something, do you realize how much trouble you guys are in?”
Does this sound like how Boomer should talk? Does this sound like how Boomer, waking up tied to a chair would talk? also, the "do you realize how much trouble" is a bit cliche and doubly confusing because it's normally reserved for a stereotype American mom.

3. “err, no, we just don't want you to shoot anyone” replied Romana.

Stuff like 'err' isn't really speech and so doesn't need to be put in. If the reader knows how confused Romana is, they'll insert it themselves in their head. Either way, it's distracting for the reader (and a bit out of character too). Also, when a tied up soldier asks, "Do you know how much trouble you're in" the normal answer is not a blithe 'no'. She has the upper hand here.
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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby O Wildish » 2012-02-22 02:42pm

again thank you, I just got myself a book to help me along, I'm going to take as much advise as I can as I really want this to work. I wasn't actually using my dyslexia and Asperger's as an excuse, more of an explanation as to my limitations due to it not really being pick up on at school, something I hope I can correct, all I ask is a bit of guidance.

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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby madd0ct0r » 2012-02-22 08:28pm

I was kind of lucky that way, as my father and probably his father were both dyslexic too, so there's a lot of family traditional tricks and techniques for working around it.
Spell check has been a godsend though ;)

Make sure you read plenty of good stuff as well as writing.
"Aid, trade, green technology and peace." - Hans Rosling.
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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby O Wildish » 2012-02-22 10:11pm

I agree, my Nan used to push me as best she could, she was about the only person that helpped me. I do tend to focus on the plot more than the gammer first, thus I really need someone to prof or beta read what I'm doing, what do you think of the actual story thus far?

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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby O Wildish » 2012-04-09 09:05am

First Chapter complete

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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby Themightytom » 2012-04-09 04:55pm

O Wildish wrote:First Chapter complete

Looks great, I'm already hooked, keep up the good work!

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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby O Wildish » 2012-04-14 04:11pm

Part Two has begun, the enemies gather and the danger mounts...

In the meantime just for fun, can anyone think of some funny dialoge for these two???
... (there's an obvious one I just thought of)
thanks for the support :)

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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby Crayz9000 » 2012-04-16 11:37am

Sorry about making a comment in the story thread, by the way. I missed seeing this thread until after I'd posted...
A Tribute to Stupidity: The Robert Scott Anderson Archive (currently offline)
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Re: The Doomsday Planet: Notes and Comments

Postby O Wildish » 2012-04-16 07:12pm

Crayz9000 wrote:Sorry about making a comment in the story thread, by the way. I missed seeing this thread until after I'd posted...

That's ok, the idea for this came from another site which does this

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