Topic: What do you think of my novel's theme?
Depressionmanâ„¢ !!fNJHcIUn0 started this discussion 15 years ago #2,175
So, my novel is developing. Yes, it is a New Orleans vampire novel, but based on Cyrano de Bergerac, which I find a brilliant tragi-comedy. Basically, there is a zombie who is hideous to behold, but who can speak great romantic words of eloquence. There is also a very handsome, suave vampire, but who has trouble speaking to women. They are both in love with the same mortal woman, and must use each other to speak to her of their love. What do you think?
Meta !PARAdoxiHw joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 45 seconds later[^] [v] #39,553
So they have to team up and cooperate to get this girl?
Lawrence !9p5vCatBBQ joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 47 seconds later, 1 minute after the original post[^] [v] #39,554
> there is a zombie who is hideous to behold, but who can speak great romantic words of eloquence.
Lol
Lol
RedFox !rFox/iQSaQ joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 19 seconds later, 1 minute after the original post[^] [v] #39,555
I'd honor it as my toilet read.
Depressionmanâ„¢ !!fNJHcIUn0 (OP) replied with this 15 years ago, 36 seconds later, 2 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,556
@39,553 (Meta !PARAdoxiHw)
Well, like Cyrano de Bergerac, they are rivals. The zombie can no longer speak eloquently when women look at him, becuase he knows he is ugly. And the handsome vampire no longer seems handsome when he has to speak, because he is obtuse. So, the zombie must tell the vampire what to say to the girl. But, he is really speaking his own love to her.
Well, like Cyrano de Bergerac, they are rivals. The zombie can no longer speak eloquently when women look at him, becuase he knows he is ugly. And the handsome vampire no longer seems handsome when he has to speak, because he is obtuse. So, the zombie must tell the vampire what to say to the girl. But, he is really speaking his own love to her.
Anonymous E joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 12 seconds later, 2 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,557
So, what happens if they get her? Do they take turns or something?
Triptych !!DP4/G/5A6 joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 50 seconds later, 3 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,558
I'd probably like it better if it was just humans, lol.
Depressionmanâ„¢ !!fNJHcIUn0 (OP) replied with this 15 years ago, 2 minutes later, 5 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,560
@39,557 (E)
Well, they go to her balcony, and the zombie tells the vampire what to say in whispers, and he repeats it. She falls in love with the words, but she thinks it is the vamp. In the end, she realizes the inner beauty of the zombie, and loves him.
Well, they go to her balcony, and the zombie tells the vampire what to say in whispers, and he repeats it. She falls in love with the words, but she thinks it is the vamp. In the end, she realizes the inner beauty of the zombie, and loves him.
Depressionmanâ„¢ !!fNJHcIUn0 (OP) double-posted this 15 years ago, 1 minute later, 7 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,562
It basically follows the plot of Cyrano de Bergerac.
Mindwurms !!4IKKtS9GG joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 2 minutes later, 10 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,568
Read this: http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Fiction-For-Dummies-ebook/dp/B002XGICAO/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1298934092&sr=8-2
I'm sure they'll have it at your library. I'm reading it, and it's very good.
I'd recommend you polish your writing by posting excerpts online and reviewing the feedback. I'd also recommend working on some short stories and submitting them to magazines or websites.
TL;DR
Rome wasn't built in a day.
I'm sure they'll have it at your library. I'm reading it, and it's very good.
I'd recommend you polish your writing by posting excerpts online and reviewing the feedback. I'd also recommend working on some short stories and submitting them to magazines or websites.
TL;DR
Rome wasn't built in a day.
Depressionmanâ„¢ !!fNJHcIUn0 (OP) replied with this 15 years ago, 3 minutes later, 13 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,571
@previous (Mindwurms !!4IKKtS9GG)
There was movement in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, in old New Orleans, in the dank French Quarter. It was not only the wispy tendrils and fingers of fog that curled over and between the ancient vaults, nor simply the dank breeze that bent the weeds between the family plots. There was a more substantial movement from deep within the dark alleys that wound between the gnarled, marble family vaults -- the movement of mausoleum doors grating open with the cold timbre of stone against stone. From within the black cells came the remnants of once-people, now bizarre combinations of bones and sinews and wasting flesh, sunken eyes, frazzled hair. Inside the vaults, the bodies lay on shelves, one atop another, and as they were reanimated and struggled to squirm off of their death-beds, they fell to the stone floor with thuds and the crack of snapping bones. But they kept struggling.
Little by little, shredded, drooping arms and mangled faces emerged from the tombs, all of them squinting and flinching from the relative brightness of the New Orleans night. Anyone in the city not superstitious enough to avoid St. Louis No. 1 at night (and there were very few who had not been raised not to go near it), would have heard moaning and grunting, and frightful crackling as bony feet drudged through the weedy stone and dirt pathways. But on that night, no one was near the old City of the Dead. The fog, so unusual for New Orleans, but on that night thick throughout the old city, had frightened most of the residents into staying indoors. After all, Marie LaVeau, the old Voodoo Priestess from the Victorian Age, had warned that when fog hit New Orleans, the end would be near. And New Orleans still lives in a Medieval mentality, full of superstition, Voodoo, and fear.
The zombis staggered out, stretching town tendons and wasted muscles that had not moved in decades, maybe centuries. New Orleans is, after all, a very old city. The thick fog hid the scene, but anyone who lived in any of the three-story apartments around the cemetery, anyone going for a midnight snack, or a glass of water, or a bathroom trip, might have casually glanced out of the window and seen a scene of horror, something from the Apocalypse. The dead had risen that night in New Orleans, and they had risen en masse.
The creatures had formed a crowd toward the center of St. Louis No. 1, next to Marie LaVeau's vault. They were mostly silent, but when one would bump into another, both would growl and hiss. Before the crowd was a single figure, a zombi as well, but different. Where the rest were decaying, he seemed more complete, more whole. Where their grave-clothes were tattered, ragged, his seemed like they had only been on him a few days at most. He seemed almost human. Almost.
And then he spoke to the crowd: "My friends, my children, my creatures. We are risen! We have conquered death!"
It could have been said that a cheer rose from the crowd, if a cheer consisted of groaning, grunting, and the crunching of bones as skeletal arms raised in triumph. The clacking of humeri, radii, and ulnae, sounded like hail hitting cobblestone, or maybe like thousands of large insects tapping their way across a parking lot. Occasionally, a bony hand or arm would fall off and clatter on the ground. The apparent leader continued.
"And now, we, the dead, shall be the living ones, and we shall make dead, the living! No longer, my decaying brethren, shall we mould away
There was movement in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, in old New Orleans, in the dank French Quarter. It was not only the wispy tendrils and fingers of fog that curled over and between the ancient vaults, nor simply the dank breeze that bent the weeds between the family plots. There was a more substantial movement from deep within the dark alleys that wound between the gnarled, marble family vaults -- the movement of mausoleum doors grating open with the cold timbre of stone against stone. From within the black cells came the remnants of once-people, now bizarre combinations of bones and sinews and wasting flesh, sunken eyes, frazzled hair. Inside the vaults, the bodies lay on shelves, one atop another, and as they were reanimated and struggled to squirm off of their death-beds, they fell to the stone floor with thuds and the crack of snapping bones. But they kept struggling.
Little by little, shredded, drooping arms and mangled faces emerged from the tombs, all of them squinting and flinching from the relative brightness of the New Orleans night. Anyone in the city not superstitious enough to avoid St. Louis No. 1 at night (and there were very few who had not been raised not to go near it), would have heard moaning and grunting, and frightful crackling as bony feet drudged through the weedy stone and dirt pathways. But on that night, no one was near the old City of the Dead. The fog, so unusual for New Orleans, but on that night thick throughout the old city, had frightened most of the residents into staying indoors. After all, Marie LaVeau, the old Voodoo Priestess from the Victorian Age, had warned that when fog hit New Orleans, the end would be near. And New Orleans still lives in a Medieval mentality, full of superstition, Voodoo, and fear.
The zombis staggered out, stretching town tendons and wasted muscles that had not moved in decades, maybe centuries. New Orleans is, after all, a very old city. The thick fog hid the scene, but anyone who lived in any of the three-story apartments around the cemetery, anyone going for a midnight snack, or a glass of water, or a bathroom trip, might have casually glanced out of the window and seen a scene of horror, something from the Apocalypse. The dead had risen that night in New Orleans, and they had risen en masse.
The creatures had formed a crowd toward the center of St. Louis No. 1, next to Marie LaVeau's vault. They were mostly silent, but when one would bump into another, both would growl and hiss. Before the crowd was a single figure, a zombi as well, but different. Where the rest were decaying, he seemed more complete, more whole. Where their grave-clothes were tattered, ragged, his seemed like they had only been on him a few days at most. He seemed almost human. Almost.
And then he spoke to the crowd: "My friends, my children, my creatures. We are risen! We have conquered death!"
It could have been said that a cheer rose from the crowd, if a cheer consisted of groaning, grunting, and the crunching of bones as skeletal arms raised in triumph. The clacking of humeri, radii, and ulnae, sounded like hail hitting cobblestone, or maybe like thousands of large insects tapping their way across a parking lot. Occasionally, a bony hand or arm would fall off and clatter on the ground. The apparent leader continued.
"And now, we, the dead, shall be the living ones, and we shall make dead, the living! No longer, my decaying brethren, shall we mould away
Meta !PARAdoxiHw replied with this 15 years ago, 2 minutes later, 15 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,572
So what's to stop the suave good looking vampire from using the ugly zombie's lines to steal the girl, and then running off with her and leaving the zombie all alone?
Anonymous H joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 1 minute later, 16 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,574
Depressionmanâ„¢ !!fNJHcIUn0 (OP) replied with this 15 years ago, 2 minutes later, 19 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,575
Mindwurms !!4IKKtS9GG replied with this 15 years ago, 1 minute later, 21 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,578
@39,571 (Depressionmanâ„¢ !!fNJHcIUn0)
I'm not a writer, but I'd recommend taking a few more classes and reading a few more books on novel-writing. The words don't "flow" if you get my drift, and you've lost your reader by the first paragraph. You need a point of view, maybe a spectator who gets torn to bits in the beginning.
I'm not a writer, but I'd recommend taking a few more classes and reading a few more books on novel-writing. The words don't "flow" if you get my drift, and you've lost your reader by the first paragraph. You need a point of view, maybe a spectator who gets torn to bits in the beginning.
Mindwurms !!4IKKtS9GG double-posted this 15 years ago, 7 minutes later, 28 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,588
Also, I'm not sure a romance novel is for you unless you read a lot of books in that genre. Not only that, it doesn't seem to mesh well with your personality - a thriller, mystery, or a fantasy would seem better. You're trying to break into the market and yet you want to write a book geared primarily towards women - that's like teaching a baby to walk by giving it 10 lb ankle weights. I'm not saying it's impossible, it's just challenge upon challenge upon challenge, things you should be attempting after you have a good handle on your writing style and talent.
Depressionmanâ„¢ !!fNJHcIUn0 (OP) replied with this 15 years ago, 2 minutes later, 30 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,592
Leo Vegas !gNoGoD5HzQ joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 3 minutes later, 34 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,598
@OP
I like the Frankenstein without the rage part. Also it could be interesting and then bought and converted to a really shitty sitcom that will make millions.
I like the Frankenstein without the rage part. Also it could be interesting and then bought and converted to a really shitty sitcom that will make millions.
Leo Vegas !gNoGoD5HzQ double-posted this 15 years ago, 23 seconds later, 34 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,599
Ph !5pM9NZR/l6 joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 2 minutes later, 37 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,603
So Cyrano de Bergerac with a vampire and zombie. Basically ripping off of two things at once. The author that has been revamping classics with zombies and such like "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" and of course the age old story of Cyrano. Ehhh, if you get it to sell kudos, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were in your shoes.
Anonymous K joined in and replied with this 15 years ago, 22 minutes later, 59 minutes after the original post[^] [v] #39,624
This twist sounds suspiciously like the plot to the film Frankenhooker.