One-Upmanship (A Riting Exercise)

As writers, we might look at others' writings to compare how we write to how they write. You might notice they have a distinct style to their stories, or their dialogue, or just a pervading theme like Gothic-ness. Here, I offer you a chance to step outside your comfort zone and expand — you get to try entering the above writer's head for one post.

The first poster shares an excerpt out of his story, that she wants people to read. Then the poster after him will post a pledge to edit this excerpt, then edit it (copy it to a Word Processor — this is not limited attention-span friendly), see what parts he likes, and directly change what he feels can be written better. After she's finished, she can post the edited excerpt (along with the original poster's name in bold for clarification.) This I feel is a good way to look outside yourself, to bring a little of yourself into someone else.

The excerpts I recommend be good-sized chunks at the very least — or feel free to post up a whole short story to share. Two pages in Open Office/Word should do as a limit, with Drabble-length being a minimum. Originals and Fanfics are allowed.

I will wait for a willing troper to jump in first. I hope this makes a goodly.

edited 11th Mar '11 11:05:13 AM by QQQQQ

I'm not sure what you mean by "pledge." I think this looks interesting, but I'd like a bit more info before hopping in.

By 'pledge', do you mean a post stating "I'll take this excerpt"?

Also, did you intend the spelling of the title?

How large are these stories? I don't mind jumping into an indoor pool, but I don't want to jump into middle of the Pacific Ocean.

^^^ By pledge — you pledge yourself to edit this person's excerpt

^^ Whoops.

^ I think two pages in Open Office should do as a limit. Drabble-length is a minimum.

I think I'll jump in some time this afternoon, because I have to go to class soon.  ^*

Cautiously trying this out with a scene I'm struggling with (can't get the right tone). It's in the middle of the story, so: Martin is a ghost. Doug is part of a small minority (around 1 out of 10,000 or so) who can see & hear ghosts, and he and Martin have been friends for several years. Doug got into a serious car accident and developed locked in syndrome, and so far no one has realized he's no longer unconscious - except for Martin, who has mild telepathy as part of his ghost powers. He's been feeling very depressed, and Martin is quite worried about him. So...

The doctor came into Doug's room, accompanied by an intern. "Well, let's see how he reacts to this. Remember, don't look for horizontal eye movement, look for vertical eye movement or blinking."

"Got it." The intern nodded. "Hello, Doug Snyder. The EEG results came back, and they're suggestive of locked-in syndrome. Can you blink, please?"

Doug blinked. <Locked-in syndrome? What's that?>

"I think it's what you have." Martin said.

"Can you blink again?" The intern asked. Doug blinked again, and she glanced at the doctor. "Does that mean he's conscious?"

"I guess it does." The doctor said. "Doug, can you look up?"

Doug did so. <They know I'm in here!> He exclaimed. <Finally, they know I'm in here!>

"Look down?" The intern asked.

"He has ocular bobbing, that won't make a good signal." The doctor replied.

"Oh, OK." The intern said. She glanced at Doug and smiled, then hastily looked away. "So, like, his mind is working fine, but he can't move?"

"It seems that way." The doctor said. "Let's put in an order for speech-language therapy, and arrange a meeting with his parents." The two of them walked out.

I pledge to edit Ettina's piece as soon as I can. (You can also post more excerpts, for others to edit too.)

edited 11th Mar '11 7:42:16 AM by QQQQQ

(Ettina)

Doug saw the door swing open, and his doctor came into the room, with an intern at side.

"..remember, Ms Tarkovsky, for locked-in patients, you don't look for their side-to-side eye movements, because their..” he heard the doctor say. “..so look for vertical, up-down eye movement or their blinking."

"Got it."

He saw his doctor lean overhead his face, having the calm, clinical and ambiguous smile which always seemed so foreboding with yet-unsaid words. "Hello, Doug. I've got your EEG results..”

A beat.

“It appears your brain stem has become damaged from lesion,” his doctor went, “or to put it in terms you might understand better, you have ''locked-in syndrome. Mainly, all the muscles of your body have been frozen, except for the eyes.. we will try making you as comfortable as possible, while we find treatment for your condition. Would you try blinking for me please?"

Doug blinked.

"I think it's what you have," the intern added, sotto voce.

"Can you blink again for me?" his doctor asked.

So Doug blinked again.

His doctor's intern glanced down, her hazel eyes meeting his own. His eyes the only window to the world. His doctor said, "Doug.. can you look up?"

So Doug did.

"Look down?"

"Looks like he's got ocular bobbing," the intern commented. “Won't make a good signal.”

"I hear ya."

The intern glanced at Doug once more and gave a somewhat reassuring smile, then hastily pulled her eyes away. "So, like, he's paralyzed all over? He's aware, but he just can't move?"

"Yes," Doug heard his doctor say. "I think we.. shall arrange a meeting with his parents.."

He closed his eyes. Wept a tear for his solitary prison, his dead body.

edited 11th Mar '11 10:42:16 AM by QQQQQ

I'd like to try re-writing that, but just to be sure—I edit what you posted now, right? Not the original?

You can edit mine or Ettina's original.

OK. I will edit Ettina's original, then.

What if I want to combine elements from both Ettina and QQQQQ? Would that be feasible, if so what would the pledge look like?

Just pledge you will edit an amalgam of both author's versions.

I pledge to edit a composite of Ettina and QQQQQ's pieces, and submit it before 16:00 GMT-5 3/14/2011. a.k.a. This coming Monday 4:00 PM EST. I figure I need a deadline, because I tend to be lazy...

I've looked up locked-in syndrome, and I have to say that the ideas brewing in my head are delicious. *Laughs Evilly*

edited 12th Mar '11 1:18:47 PM by EldritchBlueRose

I didn't mess with this too much, actually, since it was pretty good as it was originally. A bit different from my style, but that's just your style. I only made a few alterations. And corrected some conventions misfires, but that's a given.

The doctor came into Doug's room, accompanied by an intern. "Well, let's see how he reacts to us now. Remember, don't look for horizontal eye movement, look for vertical eye movement or blinking."

"Got it." The intern nodded. "Hello, Doug Snyder. The EEG results came back, and they're suggestive of a condition called 'locked-in syndrome.' Can you blink for us, please?"

Doug blinked; it was partially on command, and partially in confusion. <"Locked-in syndrome?" What's that?>

"Your mind is functioning perfectly, but your body is paralyzed," Martin said. "You can think, but you can't communicate."

The doctor shot Martin a curious frown. His brows furrowed.

"...Well, if he is conscious, I thought I should explain it to him," Martin shrugged. "You know. So he's not in the dark as to what's going on. Common courtesy, y'know?"

The intern sighed over their conversation and turned back to Doug. "Can you blink again?" she asked. Doug did, and she glanced at the doctor. "Does that mean he's conscious?"

"Perhaps, but let's be sure; let's see how he reacts to a few more commands." The doctor cleared his throat before turning to Doug. "Doug, can you look up?"

Doug obliged. <They know I'm in here!> he exclaimed. <Finally, they know I'm in here!>

"Look down?" the intern asked meekly.

"He has ocular bobbing; that won't make a good signal," the doctor replied. "Still, the other tests would indicate that he seems to be cognizant.

"Oh, OK," the intern said. She glanced at Doug and smiled, then hastily looked away. "So, definitely locked-in syndrome?"

"It seems that way," the doctor said. "Let's put in an order for speech-language therapy, and arrange a meeting with his parents." The two of them walked out, leaving Martin with the frozen Doug.

edited 12th Mar '11 6:27:03 PM by FreezairForALimitedTime

I pledge to edit the original piece by Ettina right now.

The doctor arrived, with a curly-haired intern trailing after him. "Well," he said, passing the clipboard in hand over, "Let's see how he reacts to this. What are we looking for?"

"Horizontal eye movement, and blinking."

A pause.

The intern realized her mistake and coughed into her free hand. "And by horizontal I meant—" She flapped the same hand in an up-and-down movement, feebly, and sighed as the doctor lowered an eyebrow.

"You've got the gist of it. Go on, talk to him."

"Okay." After getting the clipboard pulled out of her hands, the intern's determined smile fell, and she crept closer to the patient's bed with the vulnerability of a de-shelled turtle. "Hello, Doug Snyder? The EEG results came back, and they're suggestive of locked-in syndrome. Could you please blink?"

Doug blinked, and wondered what locked-in syndrome was.

"Okay, and just to make sure that wasn't a fluke: Could you blink twice in a row for us?" At Doug's response the intern smiled and turned back to the doctor, who was scribbling something on the clipboard. "He did it! Does that mean he's conscious?"

"Of course not, he has to blink three times in a row for us to suggest that he's conscious." The doctor blocked the intern from resuming her place at the bedside with the clipboard. "He's conscious! He's conscious. But since you're just dying to know, go on and ask."

"Blink three times in a row, Doug Snyder! I promise that's the last one."

The intern was beaming at him with an infectious enthusiasm. Doug would have returned the grin if he had possessed any particular control over those muscles. For now he consoled himself with the thought that someone finally realized he was conscious and the word would be going out to the people he knew right away. This was confirmed with the doctor, who wrote something else and then hung the clipboard over his bed.

"All right, then. Let's put in an order for speech-therapy and arrange a meeting with his parents. I'm sure they'll be at least half as happy as you were."

This got a blush out of the intern, who ducked her head as she followed the doctor out. But right before crossing the threshold, she turned back and waved. "We'll be back soon, Doug. Sorry for not talking to you for a while, but we kind of thought you were a vegetable so—"

"He's not going anywhere," came the brisk reminder. "Talk at him on your own time."

"Oh, right! Sorry, doctor..." Despite her hurrying, at the edge of his earshot Doug heard her musing, "Do they teach Morse code to patients with locked-in syndrome so they can carry on a conversation, or is it something different?"

Can I post something new for people to edit?

Sure thing!

Okay, thanks. This is the prologue to the story I've nearly finished. Thirty years previous, in the main story, Caroline and her Love Interest, neither of them mages, were working as Kestrel's assistants while she used them as a facade to cover her political scheming. At the end of the story Caroline marries her Love Interest and they go off to see the world, while Kestrel passes control of all the political ground she's gained to her second-in-command and disappears to carry on with her own travels. Before leaving, she gives Caroline the address of a cemetery in London and a date thirty years later, so this takes place when Caroline actually turns up there. That's probably sufficient context.

It was October, 1926, and clouds marbled the London sky, white blurring into white and turning the city to grey.

At six o’clock in the morning, the graveyard was empty, and silent. Tombstones lay in regimented rows, and marble edifices celebrated the achievements of those who had made their mark on the world, or acquired enough money to purchase a lavish insistence of it, insistently telling themselves that being remembered was, after all, a form of immortality.

Two crows who had rested like ink drawings in the bare branches of a tree pitched themselves suddenly into the air, striking in their silhouettes against the cool sky, and there was a quiet footstep. Just one. The person who heard it from habit tried to hear another following it, and blinked a few times to reconcile her expectations to the fact that none came.

Then the dark-haired young woman in the black dress who had walked so almost-silently through the cemetery found what she had been looking for.

The gravestone was dark, nondescript - not too plain, not too embellished - and its inscription was simple. Just a name, and, underneath, in Gothic script: Remember.

Kestrel thought of the thousand scenarios a novelist might have dreamed up for this moment, clichéd and theatrical gestures at which, like her, he would have laughed: she could have dropped a single crimson rose onto the tomb, she could have fallen to her knees before it and wept melodramatically, she could have uttered a line of outstanding drama and poetry in a sepulchral tone.

But instead, she just read the inscription, and stood thoughtfully for a while. Then she reached out and touched the edge of the tombstone, once, her fingers brushing lightly as wind over the not-quite-smooth surface of the stone.

One person watched her. She stood half-behind a tree, a tall silver-birch - in the summer, a elegant, quietly pretty colour, but now only contributing to the dullness of the city’s palette that day. She was in her late fifties, perhaps, with half-silvered hair and clear eyes, well-dressed, though not extravagantly, and she watched Kestrel with an intense, concentrated silence.

Not once did Kestrel turn in her direction, though there was a faint suggestion of deliberately not looking.

After five or ten still minutes Kestrel turned away from the grave, and walked back through the graveyard, her steps again making no noise on the hard ground.

Eventually the watcher left too, when she was convinced that there was nothing else to see.

Okay, if nobody feels like editing that, please feel free to post something new. I wouldn't want to have killed what seems like a good thread.

I pledge to edit cityofmist's piece as soon as I can.

I also pledge to edit cityofmist's piece as ASAP, as well as leave my own piece to be edited in part or whole. I am totally not asking for comments

edited 21st Mar '11 3:46:42 PM by SalFishFin

I'll participate, since that's what I do pretty much every time I crit someone anyway.