Post by Teskas on Oct 24, 2007 12:55:19 GMT -5
I am toying with starting a novel, and I was wondering whether you would all give me some honest feedback on my idea. There's some new evidence that parallel universes are a real possibility, so the story might be a mixture of sci-fi and fantasy. The novel is still at the composting stage, and the reason I'm asking you for feedback is that the "world" in which everything occurs is a 19th century tea clipper. Four astronauts find themselves shanghaied onto it.
A lot of people aren't particularly keen on sea stories, so I thought I'd ask your opinions about whether my choice of "world" is worth pursuing, or a non-starter. It's a long-haul to write a novel, and I'd really like to work on something which, at least in theory, is marketable.
Please do not give me a snow-job. As far as I'm concerned, this is a safe place to make this request, and I would appreciate it as a real kindness if you would be frank and open with your thoughts.
The following material may never appear in the novel, but is meant to give you a flavor of what I have in mind.
****************************************************************************
From the port side of the main deck, he strained to see the water in the black night, but failed. Nothing caught the light, not even the sailor moving toward him along the rail.
"Why 'ave we stopped, Mr. Grayling? I thought we was aiming to beat a time."
"Captain has orders. Rendezvous with the Navy--to take on passengers."
Grayling looked up where he expected to see the sails. Their silence disturbed him. Tench may have been right after all. Instead, he said, "We'll make up time."
The ship's bell rang six times. Looking to the bridge above him, the small binnacle light showed a little of the wheel, but not the figure behind it, nor the vessel's master.
"No sign of them yet, Captain," the mate called into the blackness.
"They will be here directly, Mr. Grayling. Leave the side and come up."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Grayling groped blindly toward the stern, where he climbed the short ladderway to the bridge. He stood in uncertainty. He could not so much hear footsteps as the creak of deck timber. A shadow crossed between the mate and the binnacle light. Grayling reached the lashed wheel.
The pale light shone across the hooded compass. The captain was near, his hands shoved in the pockets of his best coat, the one with the brass buttons. As he leaned over the compass, the light played on his features.
"We have no drift."
"Aye, sir. Station maintained."
"What do you make of it, Mr. Grayling?" the captain asked.
The mate looked for the mizzen mast, and the top of the main mast beyond it. Both were invisible. "No swell, no wind, no stars," he replied. "I've sailed thirty-two years, Captain. Never a night like this. I'd say we're in Hell with the fires gone out."
The mate could hear the pause, and the deep intake of breath. "I trust not, Mr. Grayling. I trust not."
In the distance were the shifting of oars in locks and a light bang, the sounds of a rope ladder tossed over the side, crew voices, and movement of feet. One of the watch called to another. "Tell the captain the naval gentleman and his party are coming aboard."
"Stand by," the captain called, and went down to the main deck.
A lot of people aren't particularly keen on sea stories, so I thought I'd ask your opinions about whether my choice of "world" is worth pursuing, or a non-starter. It's a long-haul to write a novel, and I'd really like to work on something which, at least in theory, is marketable.
Please do not give me a snow-job. As far as I'm concerned, this is a safe place to make this request, and I would appreciate it as a real kindness if you would be frank and open with your thoughts.
The following material may never appear in the novel, but is meant to give you a flavor of what I have in mind.
****************************************************************************
From the port side of the main deck, he strained to see the water in the black night, but failed. Nothing caught the light, not even the sailor moving toward him along the rail.
"Why 'ave we stopped, Mr. Grayling? I thought we was aiming to beat a time."
"Captain has orders. Rendezvous with the Navy--to take on passengers."
Grayling looked up where he expected to see the sails. Their silence disturbed him. Tench may have been right after all. Instead, he said, "We'll make up time."
The ship's bell rang six times. Looking to the bridge above him, the small binnacle light showed a little of the wheel, but not the figure behind it, nor the vessel's master.
"No sign of them yet, Captain," the mate called into the blackness.
"They will be here directly, Mr. Grayling. Leave the side and come up."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Grayling groped blindly toward the stern, where he climbed the short ladderway to the bridge. He stood in uncertainty. He could not so much hear footsteps as the creak of deck timber. A shadow crossed between the mate and the binnacle light. Grayling reached the lashed wheel.
The pale light shone across the hooded compass. The captain was near, his hands shoved in the pockets of his best coat, the one with the brass buttons. As he leaned over the compass, the light played on his features.
"We have no drift."
"Aye, sir. Station maintained."
"What do you make of it, Mr. Grayling?" the captain asked.
The mate looked for the mizzen mast, and the top of the main mast beyond it. Both were invisible. "No swell, no wind, no stars," he replied. "I've sailed thirty-two years, Captain. Never a night like this. I'd say we're in Hell with the fires gone out."
The mate could hear the pause, and the deep intake of breath. "I trust not, Mr. Grayling. I trust not."
In the distance were the shifting of oars in locks and a light bang, the sounds of a rope ladder tossed over the side, crew voices, and movement of feet. One of the watch called to another. "Tell the captain the naval gentleman and his party are coming aboard."
"Stand by," the captain called, and went down to the main deck.