Trying to find Character Voice for a This Town fic
Aug 21, 2022 16:52:55 GMT
Anastasia, doctornolonger, and 1 more like this
Post by sonorous on Aug 21, 2022 16:52:55 GMT
Hello everybody! This is my first post here. Love that the forum exists, as Faction has become my pandemic obsession. Very excited to be here!
This Town Will Never Let us Go is my favorite book in the series. I found myself writing a sequel to it in my off-hours, trying to flex character voice as that's something I'm trying to work on as a writer. I'm posting a section of my fic here and I'd love some feedback if anyone's willing!
The context is that Inangela, the main character in my story is interfacing with the Telepathic Circuits of the Ship of War. It's running through her mind and it comes across her thoughts on The Faction, speaking to her in bolded sections and interrupting her internal monologue.
Here is the section:
<A Bone Mask>
“Bought” my first mask from a greasy stand on a greasy street. The man saw the graffiti and thought he could take advantage. The market shifted, the tones of a teetering makeshift economy shifting with it. Leering eyes and stained teeth scanned me up and down.
Horror rushed around the corner, shouting about the end of the world. She ran to the right. I grabbed one of the masks off the stand and ran to the left.
I was holding it so hard that the cheap plastic warped in my grip. The small flaws made it real. The small flaws made it mine.
<AT THE BOTTOM OF YOU IS A MASK OF BONE>
The Faction was counter-culture. A signifier, a light in the sky signifying all-encompassing levels of
“Fuck you, I’ll do what I want.”
Words spoken, carried on in the air, and growing uncertainty in the hegemonic power. Was it real? Was it a fad? Were their Bone People behind the scenes manipulating Time and Space?
It didn’t matter.
We made it real. We knew nothing about it, but it represented something against the grain. Out with the stuffy, dusty, old men. In with the sexy, blood-covered faces of bone.
There was nothing to know, so we filled in the details ourselves. Our own personal rebellion. Anti-Government. Anti-Capital. Anti-Fascism. Anti-Oppression. Anti-Life. Anti-Death. Stand for nothing, fall for everything.
We were the Grandfathers of Faction Paradox.
Truth to Power. Freedom for the Masses.
And we got to skip school too.
Fuck yeah.
This Town Will Never Let us Go is my favorite book in the series. I found myself writing a sequel to it in my off-hours, trying to flex character voice as that's something I'm trying to work on as a writer. I'm posting a section of my fic here and I'd love some feedback if anyone's willing!
The context is that Inangela, the main character in my story is interfacing with the Telepathic Circuits of the Ship of War. It's running through her mind and it comes across her thoughts on The Faction, speaking to her in bolded sections and interrupting her internal monologue.
Here is the section:
<A Bone Mask>
“Bought” my first mask from a greasy stand on a greasy street. The man saw the graffiti and thought he could take advantage. The market shifted, the tones of a teetering makeshift economy shifting with it. Leering eyes and stained teeth scanned me up and down.
Horror rushed around the corner, shouting about the end of the world. She ran to the right. I grabbed one of the masks off the stand and ran to the left.
I was holding it so hard that the cheap plastic warped in my grip. The small flaws made it real. The small flaws made it mine.
<AT THE BOTTOM OF YOU IS A MASK OF BONE>
The Faction was counter-culture. A signifier, a light in the sky signifying all-encompassing levels of
“Fuck you, I’ll do what I want.”
Words spoken, carried on in the air, and growing uncertainty in the hegemonic power. Was it real? Was it a fad? Were their Bone People behind the scenes manipulating Time and Space?
It didn’t matter.
We made it real. We knew nothing about it, but it represented something against the grain. Out with the stuffy, dusty, old men. In with the sexy, blood-covered faces of bone.
There was nothing to know, so we filled in the details ourselves. Our own personal rebellion. Anti-Government. Anti-Capital. Anti-Fascism. Anti-Oppression. Anti-Life. Anti-Death. Stand for nothing, fall for everything.
We were the Grandfathers of Faction Paradox.
Truth to Power. Freedom for the Masses.
And we got to skip school too.
Fuck yeah.
