JINJUP6RICHARDS

OPENING SCENE - Introduces the setting, tone, antagonistic forces, and highlights key themes. If Solomon absolutely had to jump out of a plane, 0100 hours was not the time he would have chosen for it. Actually, scratch that, never was the time he’d actually pick, but since the Westsylvania Zone militia liked to hand out wall-to-wall counseling like a candy dispenser drone on Halloween, Solomon had little choice in the matter. Taking a deep breath, he climbed out of the cattle truck with the other dozen drafted teenagers, and began to help unload the parachute gear onto the departure airfield. One of the plastic crates resisted his attempts to open it. He managed to pry the lid loose to count only three pairs of night-vision goggles nestled inside. Immediately he tossed one to Hyeon-Ju. His friend had weak nighttime vision, which made him a terrible candidate for combat jump training, but if optimum allocation of resources was the goal of any red zone militia, well, Solomon had yet to see it. Speaking of seeing things – or not – Solomon squinted into the moonless night, his eyes straining to make out the vague outline of the aircraft on the runway. It loomed like a shadow against the dark backdrop of rolling hills behind it, its shape revealed only by the dim, flickering lights at the edge of the airstrip. Imminent now was their ascent into the pitch-black sky. There, at twenty-thousand feet, Solomon would make his first high-altitude jump. Still gazing into the night, he turned his back to the cattle truck before stretching out his hands. He didn’t especially want anyone knowing his palms were already clammy. It wasn’t just because he was about to fling his body into basically the stratosphere, though, it was because of what a failed jump would mean. The memory of Adah’s tearful goodbye still haunted him, even a year and a half into his conscription. Promise you’ll come back! His shoulders tightened. Forcing his thoughts away from his younger sister, he reached for his harness container. The last thing he needed right now was to be punished for moving too slowly. But Wilson was already stomping across the dirt field. The lieutenant’s blue-green eyes jumped out at Solomon as the man held up his backlit AI tablet. “You can stare at the sky when you’re in it. Drop and give me twenty,” he barked, his voice cutting through the night air. Solomon wasn’t stupid enough to argue. He’d been trained sufficiently to know the only response was to hit the ground. Besides, with Wilson you didn’t get racial slurs, at least. Instead, as soon as Solomon got into position, he felt a weight begin crushing his fingers. It was a boot, Wilson’s boot, stepping with full force onto Solomon’s right hand as he pushed up and down against the hard-packed earth. Twenty push-ups was nothing. Even the pain shooting up his arm Solomon could ignore. But the tightness in his chest was making it hard to breathe. He closed his eyes, fighting his sense of powerlessness. Now was not the time to feel anything, anything at all. He had to focus on getting ready for his jump. In a few minutes he’d be seated inside that plane, masked with oxygen, and rising through the clouds. The cargo door would open, like a mouth waiting to swallow him. And he would have to leap through it. Into the night sky, into a belly full of stars and soldiers hurtling a hundred miles per hour with nothing between them and the vast expanse. *** Umma had been out getting groceries at Seoul Mart when Solomon called to tell her Dad still wasn’t home from work. “Don’t be afraid,” was the last thing she’d said to him, her voice distorted by a bad signal. “I’ll find him. If I’m not back by dinnertime, you and Adah make some kimchi fried rice. Be a good Oppa, okay, Solo?” Solomon was Adah’s older brother by four years. For seven months he’d tried to be a good Oppa by making sure she was eating, paying every bill, reassuring her they’d be okay. He hadn’t stopped calling Dad’s office downtown until after the HR lady snapped at him that his father’s absence was his problem, not theirs. “Quit harassing us. I can’t keep track of every disappeared employee.” And when he’d found Adah curled up under layers of blankets, her forehead hot to the touch, he’d made it his job to figure out how much seaweed to soak for the soup their mother used to boil for them whenever they got sick. Sure, the red zone insisted cooking was for women, but Adah was only thirteen, and she was the one throwing up. Solomon wasn’t going to let her go hungry no matter what he was told. “I have to figure out how to put the house in my name, but I don’t think I’m allowed to do that until I’m eighteen,” he said as he placed the tray on the two-drawer nightstand next to her bed. One bowl of miyeokguk with not enough cubed chicken breast in it, thanks to the militias getting the first cut of everything that made it through the zone borders. He glanced through Adah’s bedroom window at the cold, gray street outside. A bright red mail drone flew by, its rotors buzzing. “Careful, it’s hot.” Adah’s face fell. Her halfro was pulled up into a single puff. She reached out to tug it loose, which didn’t surprise Solomon as her hair easily got knotted around the band. But he didn’t think that was what was upsetting her. Her gaze, fixed on something far beyond the room, told him she was grappling with the implication of his words, his unspoken conclusion. “I haven’t given up on finding them,” Solomon said quickly even as his stomach sank. He wished he hadn’t brought up the house deed. It’d been a relentless weight on his mind, but even so, the last thing he wanted to do was stress Adah out, especially while she was recovering. “FaceSeek didn’t turn up anything, but I’ve been talking to someone online who defected from the Philadelphia zone two months ago. I asked him to meet me in person. I need some censor-free information and it’s been hard to find anyone willing to give it to me, but I think this guy will.” “You’ll take the yellow route?” Adah asked. She gave him a tiny smile that didn’t hide the tightness in her eyes. He nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. And I’ll make sure you have enough miyeokguk before I head out. Anything happens, you call me, okay?” Two days later, on Sunday afternoon, when WhiteFunk1492 typed back, yeah, I can meet at the schenley oval tent, Solomon put his phone in his pocket and knocked on Adah’s bedroom door. Meeting WhiteFunk was what he'd been waiting for, but now that he was on the brink of it, he found his insides were churning. He didn’t tell Adah that, though. He didn’t tell her that there was a reason why school, church, and the grocery store were the only places he wanted to let them go these days. Instead, he took a deep breath and gave her a hug. “It's time.” Adah dragged herself down to watch him through the open door connecting the kitchen and the garage. Umma had sung the “Lord bless you and keep you” passage from Numbers as a blessing whenever they left the house for school, and Solomon heard Adah start to sing it as he got into the car. That was just like her. To think of him even when she was sick, to encourage him the best way she could. His shoulders relaxed a little as he directed the car to pull out of their driveway and onto the road. He still couldn’t help but look out every window, however, as his car drove up and down the hills, past cars half-parked on sidewalks per usual and lamp posts with pictures of militia veterans who had died. Neither could he help but think about the explanation his father had given him the very first time they got stopped at a checkpoint when he was only seven. “People have been calling it the Great Splintering because the nation split into patches of red and blue, scattered and for the most part disconnected. Some places, red militias rolled in from the fields and took over the cities. Other spots, cities held on and managed to spread that blue rule out to the country. Philly, right next door, they’re all under blue control, stretching across the east side of Pennsylvania. But not here. Pittsburgh, we fell into a red zone, and now those militias, they’re our law and our leaders.” It didn’t matter how many checkpoints Solomon had been stopped at since, he’d never not been nervous at a single one of them. Thankfully, Mappify’s yellow route didn’t let him down, and he arrived without encountering a single militiaman. It probably helped that it was one of those gray April days that felt like a leftover from winter. Nobody wanted to be outside when it was 38 degrees and half-hailing.

THE ACT OF STORY STATEMENT Solomon Williams must survive his conscription into the Westsylvania red zone militia in order to keep providing for his sister. THE ANTAGONIST PLOTS THE POINT Samuel Wilson defected from the Philadelphia blue zone after a stint in a re-education camp that radicalized him rightward. After successfully escaping to Westsylvania, he joins their red zone militia and advances in the ranks: from drill sergeant to commissioned lieutenant. His primary goal in the midst of a newly Splintered America is revenge against the blue zone and everything it stands for. To that end, he is merciless in training new recruits, believing that force is the only way to instill in reluctant draftees the instincts of obedience. Nevertheless, Samuel's dedication extends far beyond mere discipline; he fiercely safeguards the well-being of his soldiers. When a mission he leads into the blue zone unravels, Samuel confronts a wrenching dilemma. Will he remain steadfast in his thirst for vengeance, or will his sense of responsibility towards Solomon, the lone survivor from his squad, guide his choices? Choosing the latter path, Samuel and Solomon find common ground within the harsh confines of a re-education camp, uniting to endure the brutal challenges they face. In this newfound alliance, Samuel begins to grasp that his embrace of the red zone as a reaction to the blue zone may not ultimately offer the salvation he seeks. CONJURING YOUR BREAKOUT TITLE Red Zone Soldier The Great Splintering DECIDING YOUR GENRE AND APPROACHING COMPARABLES Year of Impossible Goodbyes by Sook Nyul Choi to capture how ordinary teenagers survive larger political trends beyond their control. Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler to describe how a futuristic America might evolve both racially and politically. CORE WOUND AND THE PRIMARY CONFLICT A Blasian teenage Christian, condemned by the red zone for his race and the blue zone for his religion in a futuristic splintered United States, struggles to redefine what it means to be an American as he finds himself drafted into a militia, imprisoned in a re-education camp, and forced to ally with the very drill instructor who once tormented him. OTHER MATTERS OF CONFLICT: TWO MORE LEVELS Inner Conflict: Should Solomon abandon Officer Sam Wilson not? After escaping the re-education camp together with Sam, Solomon wakes up to find Sam has collapsed and can't keep going due to his deteriorated physical condition. Solomon is in turmoil: if Solomon gets caught and returned to the re-education camp, he'll never see his younger sister Adah again, whom he promised he would return to as long as he was alive. Furthermore, while he owes his survival in the camp to Sam, on the other hand, Sam brutalized him during boot camp when he was Solomon's drill instructor. Why should he give what protection he has to offer to Sam when he could give it to Adah, who has never hurt him, and needs it so much more? Secondary Conflict: Meanwhile, in the red zone, Adah is facing her own set of challenges: a couple attempting to seize her home in the name of the militia's reclamation policy. Forced into domestic labor to avert eviction, Adah resists as best she can, refusing to stay silent about their exploitation of her vulnerable situation. Despite being young and alone, she persists in speaking out, enduring the abuse follows. THE INCREDIBLE IMPORTANCE OF SETTING People are calling it the Great Splintering because the country broke up into puddles of blue and red all over, none of them tightly linked to each other. In some places cities got taken over by the red militias outside them. Other cities won and spread a blue rule to the rural areas nearby. Next door, the Philadelphia blue zone took over almost the whole eastern half of Pennsylvania, but Pittsburgh, Solomon's home, got eaten up into a red zone. This militia ruling Solomon's red zone renamed their territory Westsylvania and began to rule as a military junta: checkpoints everywhere, barely any due process, rigorous restrictions on speech. When the militias locked down inter-zone travel, they made it so you could only attend college in your local zone. That wasn't as bad for some of the blue zones further east, as they could mostly link up although New York became hard to travel through because of all the red upstate. Economically speaking, in the decades before the Great Splintering, businesses started aligning either blue or red and only selling to either liberal or conservative customers. You had Republican pillow companies and Democrat pillow companies. You had Republican light bulb manufacturers and Democrat light bulb manufacturers. Those are all still around and if you live in a red zone, you can work remotely for a corporation headquartered in another red zone even if you can’t ever travel there because there are too many blue zones in the way. When the zone borders got closed there were massive shortages of everything because distribution of goods got shut down too. Eventually different zones started making agreements to create corridors so inter-zone deliveries could be tolerated. However, a lot of the newer technology (augmented reality visors, bionic limbs, robotic nurses) that was available even just the decade before the Great Splintering suddenly stopped getting built when the Splintering happened. It's been a slow disintegration of technical advances since then, as continued development require a whole lot more resources and coordination than splintered zones can give. As the interim militia council started centralizing power, it required every resident of the Westsylvania zone to register for a faction, from the All-Whites, the Cultural Nationalists, to the Church Militant, and more. Then it began drafting from the various factions to fill its ranks. Unlike its blue zone neighbors, which started to require correct political participation, the Westsylvania zone disallowed any political activity. Re-education camps and hard labor prison sentences are the norm for dissidents in both zones.

It sounds like you did a lot of edits. I'd read your new take again if you posted it here!

The unmistakable scent of burning flesh rushed through his nostrils having been carried inside by the newly opened door. The burning flesh catches my attention. I am confused though by what's being carried (the scent?) and how a newly opened door can carry a scent. Can you instead say something maybe about the "scent wafted through the open door"? Something like that. A trio of papal enforcers entered in from the tower’s staircase. I think I need more of a scene set. Right now there's a door, and a tower, and a room? Is the room inside the tower? Is the room at the base of the tower? So these guys are descending down toward the Emperor? But now the smell is coming into the tower from outside? I am engaged by the threat hanging over these men, and you make it nicely clear that they are ringleaders against the powers-that-be. That said, there are way too many characters for me to be able to keep track of in a first scene. Could it be just Jacques for now and maybe two interrogators? I like the character and the strength he is showing and would like him to persist and his accusation against the pope are clear. I don't think you need that paragraph explaining Clement V's efforts at crusading, it's clear enough already that he's a bad guy and motivated by greed. It feels like it takes away the tension in that scene to step back and explain the historical context. It gets really good when we get down to the direct one-on-one conflict between Clement's polite murderousness and Jacque's resistance. It's this back and forth that I mean when I ask above if it could be juts Jacques and maybe two interrogators although I understand that you need the other prisoners there to distinguish between Jacques' fate and theirs. Maybe just get rid of the nephew. Your descriptions of the corpse burning are unnervingly vivid! The once bold Collectore, newly depleted of courage, knelt in obeisance. So I've been noticing lines like this, basically where you the author describe with adjectives what the characters are like. It seems like you're doing 3rd person omniscient POV, am I right? Where you don't limit yourself to any one character's POV but instead step back more like a camera viewing everybody. also that you plan on attracting the Jews back in order to seize their properties again. To be honest this plan on the part of the pope doesn't make much sense to me. Does the pope think that the Jews are going to come back in full trust, yes, the pope stole everything once but he surely won't do it again? If it's not something the plot depends on I'd get rid of it because it makes either the Jews attracted back or the pope look very stupid. the truth behind Nuremberg and the pogroms. Is it a very big deal that the pope is secretly behind the pogroms? My (limited) understanding of pogroms is that they happened openly with state sanction and everyone knew the ruling authorities were behind them but their knowledge didn't matter because they could do nothing about them. Would people be outraged or something if they found out the pope was behind the pogroms? Is that why he's keeping his involvement a secret? Maybe my view of historical people is cynical but I didn't think they'd care much if pogroms were happening to not-them. "As you wish, sire. It is rumored by both the Spanish and Granadans alike that the Sultan Yusuf is to receive visitations from some relatives of the dark continent.” Is it at all possible to start the first scene more around here? Medieval torture can be engaging but it's also been done many times. This, though, is new. I'd love to see the story begin with introducing the key historical difference. Obviously it has to somehow be done in an engaging way which you do well in the first half of the scene. Maybe get rid of all the secret pogrom stuff and instead have Jacque's confession be more directly related to the Sultan Yusuf and his visitors from the dark continent? “So it’s true?” Rigault asked slowly standing to his feet. “That is why there’s been no penetration into the continent’s interior?” Like this line is cool. Maybe the secret that Clement is trying to repress is not "I'm behind the pogroms" but rather "we utterly failed to penetrate the dark continent's interior/suffered a massive rout" “Our position at the apex of military capability must remain unquestioned for our authority and influence to be maintained. Considering the interests of governance, the public’s awareness of a foreign power that rivals said apex position is dangerous. It is best to keep the flock in the dark regarding such things.” And there you go, you already have it as a secret that has to be kept. Hugues remained in the background as he watched the event unfold. His temples pulsed and throbbed as he continuously clenched his jaw in angst. This is kind of what I mean when I say there are too many characters. I've already forgotten who Hugues is. Or why he's so sympathetic to Rigault at the end. Nawaa had forgotten how obsessed the Yahwudin people were with the preservation of their Fire Sand machinery. He had heard stories of fabricators and technicians destroying freshly made weapons, vehicles and other technologies for fear of outsiders acquiring remnants or parts initially considered refuse and using it to their advantage. Is Nawaa not Yahwudin? So these two lines: Though they supposedly bear us no ill will, that is no protection from the lusts that may excite them upon seeing our Waterscrews. Best to not allow even the possibility of provocation.” and He had heard stories of fabricators and technicians destroying freshly made weapons, vehicles and other technologies for fear of outsiders acquiring remnants or parts initially considered refuse and using it to their advantage. are confusing me a little. The Europeans seem waaaay behind technologically, are they really even able to understand the technology of the Yahwudin such that the Yahwudin need to keep everything such a secret? Or is it more that the Yahwudin had a recent jump in technological evolution and so they want to keep what is a more recent advantage secret? If it's the former and they're just way ahead, why haven't they taken over more by now? I know nothing about boats but the impression I'm getting is that you have either a lot of research on them or have a lot of experience (or both) with them. I like the detail I'm reading! Conclusion: Nawaa is intriguing me as a character, the last line you have him mutter makes him quite sympathetic. I really like the setup wherein you introduce the dark continent and its superiority as a secret to be suppressed in the first scene, and then follow up with a point of view character living out the said rumors. I think if the first scene could be simplified so it's easier to get through that would be great in terms of keeping the reader's attention. This premise has intrigued me from the start, I want to know what happens next!

As part of her recent nightly routine, Alex Mercer watched from across the street as Henry Shen stepped out from his doorway with his briefcase and firmly locked the door behind him, oblivious to her shadow across the street cast by the streetlights. I got confused by what seems to be a POV hop. Alex seems to be the one whose viewpoint we're following, but when you throw in "firmly" and "oblivious to her shadow" I start to think we're hopping from Alex's POV to Henry's. Adding a "seemed to be" might help like "he seemed to be oblivious to her shadow across the street…" so that we can stay in Alex's POV. ran around his orbits Does this mean his eyes? I haven't come across orbits used in this way. Unless this is a specific technological/fantastical term in your story? I like your detail about SF's Chinatown night market. I've never been so I can't testify to how it's like but I've been to open air markets before and you capture the sense well. I'm surprised there's no food though that's the main thing I think of when I think of these markets. ever-growing homogeneous Why are they ever-growing? And why are they homogenous? Do crowds generally just get bigger and bigger over time? And as to homogeneity is it because they're all Asian? Like I said I've never been to SF's market but the ones I've been to in NYC are a little more diverse just by virtue of being in America. I like Alex's internal voice. Shen's head swiveled, eyes scanning Seems to be POV hopping again. Can you add an "Alex watched as Shen's head swiveled…" or something like that? Alex rubbed the corroded flakes off her hands when she reached the roof. Nice detail. Also, in general I like this stalking scene, it's intense and keeps me engaged. missing money. What kinda asshole steals from honest, hardworkin’ whores who barely speak English? For a few nights, watching those working girls had unearthed childhood memories Alex thought she buried. This is very interesting, but the phrase "missing money" throws me off. "Stolen money" I think would be better, followed by Alex's internal dialogue explaining who the money was stolen from. With her yearning veins screaming, she climbed back down the ladder and waited at the back door, hand on her waist. Her fist tightened as she swung. Three knocks interrupted the premature fun. The door opened just enough to reveal Alex’s scarred face under the pale moonlight. A fresh claw-mark slashed across her exposed abdomen. A second deep one ran vertically through her right eye, stopping at the tip of her nose. The last one was barely visible through her maroon camisole. Only the curved start was visible, slithering down the left shoulder to her chest. Each scar was a different story told across a pastel battlefield. Dark rosewood hair parted over her right eye, flowing down her shoulders. Striking emerald eyes gazed indifferently. I am very confused about what is happening here. She seems about to attack… but then she knocks on the door instead? Or is interrupted by a knock on the door? And then all of a sudden we're looking at Alex as if from another person's POV, no longer in her mind looking out? Because I don't think she'd stop to describe herself and the scars she has and her hairstyle and eye color. Alex thought with a dry heave. I don't think you need this. The italics interjecting Alex's thoughts have been working well by themselves. The confrontation between Alex and Shen is engaging and tense and explains at a good time why Alex has been stalking Shen. It's also deflated by two paragraphs of Alex reflecting on her past. I don't think right then is the right time to do that reflection. Can you instead open your second scene with a little of Alex's backstory? Conclusion: Interesting and compelling character! Her internal voice is quite striking and does make me want to learn more. My only issue is that we're not staying with her enough throughout the scene, the aforementioned POV hops are throwing me off. I think maybe you're doing 3rd person omniscient and I keep trying to read into the scene 3rd person limited. Either way, I'm intrigued.

Your beginning is very good, gets my attention right away. I like this line as an explanation to her feelings: Why am I not freaking out? A wave of hysteria should be hitting me like a wrecking ball, but for some strange reason, it’s not. Normally, I have a panic attack by lunch. However, I notice this same explanation comes up several times in this same chapter. "Why am I still so calm about that? Trying to parallel park normally has me short of breath, blood pounding in my ears. Maybe that's it: no blood, no anxiety." "that was always one of my biggest fears, yet I'm picturing it happening to me now, and the idea doesn’t scare me at all. It's kind of nice." I understand that you don't want to get caught up in describing her trauma as too much focus on that will divert your entire story, but I think there needs to be some sort of explanation for why she's so calm. I see you're referring to it with the concept of Transition Numbness, maybe if it could be made more explicit like instead of "It's normal to feel a bit out of it" to say more clearly "It's normal to feel calm and collected despite having just died." I like the apocalyptic Western setting you have going on. I like a lot when you show off her attitude like in the line "Did I really just finish my junior year of high school, only to die and end up right back in classes? I have the worst luck." and I think more of that would be better. More of an emotional reaction to the broken downness of everything, for example. Not necessarily a negative emotional reaction, I like the snarky and irreverent tone you have going on. She seems rather indifferent about what is being described as rather poor living conditions. In fact, I think that's the main issue I keep struggling with as I'm reading this. It almost feels like it's not quite determined whether this story is going to be lighthearted and funny or serious as it keeps flirting with the trauma. I'd almost rather the entire attitude be that she's thrilled to be dead after the initial shock of realizing that she's a ghost. Conclusion: You have great wordsmithing skills; this chapter was very easy to read. No confusion about what is actually happening and everything is described clearly and vividly. I personally am not super into ghost stories but I like your tone enough to want to keep going!

Hild was reminded of stories of desert tribes and unmarked paths across dangerous territories, but only warriors leave Buclaminta, and only the best return. Hild sighed. I'm not sure why you changed tenses here "only warriors leave Buclaminta." It reads better to me to keep it in past tense. "only warriors left Buclaminta, and only the best of them returned" something like that. Also, I get from reading your opening that Hild is sighing because he is not a warrior but a slave and therefore cannot leave (is that right?) but I don't think that comes across alone. Could you put here something about how he's a slave? "only warriors left Buclaminta, and Hild was not a warrior" even would help. The lowest boundary is for beggars, slave. I'm a little confused about this. I thought at first he was in some sort of city and that there was a lower ring reserved for beggars, but then I was like no, he's on a mountain, but he's going up, he's ascending, so why does the guard tell him that the lowest boundary is for slaves? The entire confrontation between Hild and the Kadai guard seemed almost too personal to me. The way they were interacting it felt like there should be some history between them, like this wasn't the first time Hild had confronted this guard, but the way it's written I don't see that. There needs to be something to explain each of their motivations at any rate. Why does Hild mouth off to this guard and fight back if he's just a slave? Right now it seems just to kick off the story, that there's no inherent logic to his actions. Like I said, I feel like this interaction would make a lot more sense if this Kadai guard and Hild had a hostile back and forth generally and this one time it got out of hand. How does a trip through the desert to the Floarelands sound? I am intrigued, trying to figure out how a trip through the desert to the Floarelands would be a punishment. Is it some ritual that slaves can be put through? Hild ducked and deflected the blow with his arm, then lunged toward the Kadai. Hild and the soldier rolled off their horses and hit the dusty road. I don't ride horses so maybe this kind of jumping off of horses is imminently possible but it strikes me as the kind of thing a trained horseman could do. Is Hild such a trained horseman? Actually, this reminds me, does Hild own this horse? When the guard said it could cost him his horse I thought hmm Hild must be an educated or valuable or otherwise different sort of slave for him to own property himself. Is this true? As he rode onto the lawn of the estate, Hild recognized a horse being tended by the stable help. Razya's face flashed through his mind at the sight. The horse belonged to the Sheehan, Kasyl, from the northwestern neighboring estate. I don't get why Razya's face would flash through his mind. Is Razya from the northwestern neighboring estate too? I think you should include that detail in here if so. "The horse belonged… the northwestern neighboring estate where Razya lived as well" or something like that. The interaction between Hild and his masters was very interesting! Totally different from what I was expecting. I feel like it explains more of the dynamic between the Kadai and Hild. I'm torn between suggesting that some of this context be included earlier so that it makes more sense when Hild has his fight "a Kadai guard, send by an enemy to patrol the lands of Hild's master" or whether the twist is better. I'm leaning towards more context/better explanation up front so Hild can be properly seen as a loyal slave of his master and just against this Kadai guard. Which would explain the horse too. he dawned wavy auburn hair and a coarse beard. I think donned is the word you're going for? Although I'm not sure how one dons hair growing on one's body. Reinick scoffed, “Corovnica.” He muttered, rolling his eyes. A degenerate, worthless kingdom of less-than-humans. I started to get confused at this point (up until the line “Hold your tongue Reinick.” His father reproached.) I think there's too much exposition. I like the line "they should all be Sifted" because it brings up obviously a main theme in your story, but introducing geopolitics at this point seems a bit too much too fast. Maybe someone can express anger at the Kadai guard saying he should be Sifted? To keep this introductory scene focused on the problem at hand? Also, I lost sight of who Kasyl was. Is there a way to have his rank be indicated? Is he a visiting doctor? Why is he tending to a slave? The Sheehan sounds cool but it doesn't give me much of a sense of who he is compared to the other characters. Reading a few lines ahead I see the reference "Sheehan warrior." If that could be pulled forward to the line "The horse belonged to the Sheehan warrior, Kasyl, from the northwestern neighboring estate." I think that would solve my confusion. Lord Krise glanced uncomfortably between his sons and Kasyl, “I cannot. I am a simple steward, not a Sheehan warrior like yourself. I’m not equipped for much more than I already do. Kasyl, there is much at stake you know. I do implore you to reconsider your actions." He lowered his voice, "Her life here is rather comfortable, don’t you think? Are you willing to give up everything for your sentiments?” From this paragraph on I find myself confused. There seems to be a lot of hinting about Ryaza and I think it would be better served if Hild just told us who she was. What does Ryaza have to do with politics? What does she have to do with Lord Krise being gone a lot lately? Also has everyone forgotten the Kadai guard? I think focusing on the one problem of the Kadai guard, and then maybe either introducing one more problem, like who Ryaza is/where she's been, or the kingdoms and who belongs to which kingdom, would be better. If you're going to introduce the Kadai guard I would choose to lay out who belongs to which kingdom (like the Kadai come from the Saegaeta but Hild and his masters come from XXX) and not mention Ryaza at all. Although I get that she's your main character but honestly she seems shoehorned into this first scene. Conclusion: Your details are amazing. Your prose is extremely easy to read which I normally do not find to be the case when the details are so vivid. I could picture everything without getting caught up on what I was picturing. I think I struggled mostly with feeling confused with character motivation which can't be shown so I'd go on and tell us a bit more about why each character cares about what he cares about. Question: Where is this set again? Is it secondary world fantasy?

I was confused by the first paragraph, too many new names and new places, Lydia, Marcus, Forum, the Theikos. It took me a few re-reads to realize that Lydia and Marcus were investigating the Forum because the Forum was being noisy in a new way (since marketplaces are usually noisy this wasn't an easy concept to follow). I think you show what the Forum is and why Lydia might want to investigate it in a much better way with your second paragraph. Would it work to go from your first sentence "Lydia stopped…" straight onto a second sentence "People were crowding the city square, pressing up against…"? That way you show right away what a Forum is (the city square) and why Lydia might be looking at it (the people crowding and raising their fists). Lydia tapped Marcu's hip struck me as odd. Do people tap each other's hips? It might work better to introduce Marcus here. Lydia turned to her friend/fellow sorcerer/brother-in-arms Marcus. "War?" I'd get rid of "on their way here." I'd also get rid of "white" unless her breath is actually white for magical reasons. Nice bit of characterization. I feel like I know what she wants now, that I'm into her goal. I'd add a comma after screaming crowd. I like the idea of mercy being death, it is intriguing and sets up Lydia's power nicely. Couldn't they mutilate a dead body? Would it work to say they were probably going to come back to pick up the woman's body? I'd add "gotten to Lydia, too, if the Theikos…" Why are they walking now? Weren't they running before? I like the placing of the historical exposition around why the people were shouting about Saguntum. I think it's good to put it where you did. I found the whole bit between Briseis and Lydia confusing. I was getting amped about war and revenge on Rome and then all of a sudden I'm reading about a love curse that isn't even effective? Why do Romans buy these curses at all if they don't work? I think you wanted to set up the idea of inscribing a curse on a tablet so that Lydia can compose her later curse at the end of the scene. In that case, could you have Lydia note that Briseis was writing a curse on a wax tablet without going into what exactly the curse is about, and then move Lydia to the hearth where she composes the curse on Rome in her head? That way the tension that you've been building up doesn't get prematurely released into a digression about fake love curses. Maybe "nothing but ashes" or "nothing but shame"? I feel like it cuts a little at the power of the line to include two things instead of one powerful curse. Conclusion: I didn't think this scene sucked at all. I thought it was clearly well-researched and vivid in its details. The conflict you set up between Marcus being from Roman background and Lydia hating all Romans is one I look forward to seeing expanded, and I think I remember from your pitch that it does get expanded. I'm interested in what happens next!

Assignment 1: Story Statement Mayah works to discover why the serfs took her as a baby. Was it to rescue her from the fate of being an oppressor, or was it to kidnap her to use as a tool for their Uprising? Assignment 2: The Antagonist Lady Nari is both extremely violent and extremely principled. She lives her life for one thing only: the good of the serfs. The daughter of a castle serf, who in turn was raised by a Matterist prophet, Lady Nari comes from a long line of resistance fighters. None of her ancestors, however, had her single-mindedness. It was Lady Nari, and Lady Nari alone, who turned her family’s informal religious network into a serf army dedicated to the Uprising. And dedicated they must be, for Lady Nari demands nothing but the highest levels of commitment from her followers. Whatever she is willing to do, they must be willing to do as well, whether it be murder, torture or enduring a lifetime of lying and manipulating those they love. She is no hypocrite, however. She cares nothing for her personal comfort or glory; her love for the serfs is genuine. Her arrogance convinces her that she knows best what is best for the serfs, and nothing can change her mind on that, which results sometimes in incredible acts of grace, and other times, in the absolute devastation of those who live by her word. Assignment 3: Breakout Title Raising the Promised Daughter The World Beneath the Hollow-Trees Hunt’s Table Assignment 4: Comparables Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke (in that the novel is deeply focused on a non-romantic but still intimate relationship, the one between the two main characters, while drawing a world around them and a plot through them) Leviathan Wakes by James S.A. Corey (in that the novel takes place in a complexly ordered society with multiple different identity groups clashing politically, forcing the main characters to balance their allegiances) Assignment 5: Conflict Line Anguished by the revelation that she is not a serf, as she always believed, but is instead a child of the oppressive upper caste, a young girl struggles during a perilous journey through the bio-dome to find out: when her beloved serf guardian/political handler stole her from her people as a baby, was he rescuing her or kidnapping her? Assignment 6: Inner conflict: Mayah is torn between the various pieces of her identity. Although she grew up as a serf and thought she was one, she later finds out that she is actually a Rajas, a child of the oppressive upper caste. After this discovery, she is thrust into the Rajas world, and slowly learns to desire to be accepted by her fellow caste members, which involves forgetting and even denying her serf upbringing. By the time Mayah is brought back out by the serfs to participate in their Uprising, she feels ambivalent toward both the Rajas and the serfs. On the one hand, she is eager to return to familiar serf settings. On the other hand, she is hesitant to throw her lot in with those who want to destroy the Rajas ruling class. She is particularly anguished by the revelation that her beloved serf guardian, Sukren, is in fact her political handler. She begins to wonder whether Sukren hid the truth of his political allegiance from her because he feels contempt for her Rajas background. Fearful that Sukren never truly loved her, Mayah radicalizes in favor of the Uprising in an effort to become worthy of his admiration, to the point that she escalates beyond Sukren, even becoming furious at him for what she perceives to be his own lack of full-throated commitment to the serf cause. Secondary conflict: When Mayah decides that she no longer trusts Sukren, he cannot bear it. He forces her to flee with him to the edge of the bio-dome, beyond the reach of Lady Nari, or so he hopes. Without knowing it, however, he plunges them into an even worse situation. The edge of the bio-dome is populated by a people who deliberately limit the extent of their technological development. They live, in fact, as hunter gatherers, for the most part ignoring the rest of the bio-dome. Normally they are a stable, happy people, but Sukren and Mayah arrive during a social crisis triggered both by a series of unsuccessful hunts and a rapid increase in the number of refugees coming from the bio-dome proper. Thankfully, through his devotion to Mayah despite Mayah’s increasing bitterness, Sukren manages to win the admiration of a young hunter named Rajani who, despite the looming famine, takes both Sukren and Mayah under her protection. Rajani, in addition to finding herself drawn romantically toward Sukren, wants to continue her people’s tradition of welcoming refugees into her society. She is resisted, however, by the rest of her people who apply more and more pressure to stop her efforts. Eventually Rajani’s entire family is ostracized, forcing Rajani to make a choice between her deeply-held convictions and budding feelings, and her family’s fate. Assignment 7: Setting The planet Chudami’s atmosphere clings weakly to its surface, which means both glorious visions of auroras every night, and nearly unbreathable air. It is only beneath the bio-dome that anyone can survive. The bio-dome itself is made up of hollow-trees. Hollow-trees are native to Chudami; indeed, they are the only type of flora or fauna endemic to the planet. With leaves that gleam green and blue in the dark, hollow-trees also produce fiery-red and orange breathflowers that emit oxygen. The original colonists who crash-landed onto Chudami created the bio-dome and set up a rigid, stratified society underneath it. One of the scientists, Sarana, who became known throughout history as the Eternal Queen, decided to establish a dynasty of her own lineage. She did so by gene-locking the Dome Ring, a ring used to catalyze the breathflowers into producing enough oxygen to last through each winter. Her descendants became the Rajas while everyone else became their serfs. The serfs live generally in greenhouses villages scattered around the bio-dome. Because the breathflowers create too much oxygen for Earth flora to handle, massive greenhouses were built and serfs moved into them so that whatever carbon dioxide the serfs breathed out would stay inside the greenhouses for the plants to absorb. The Rajas, on the other hand, live in massive hollow-trees they call castles. Some serfs also live in the castles, as servies to wait on the Rajas, as soldiers to protect the Rajas, as doctor-priests to tend to the Rajas’ physical needs, and as regents to handle the Rajas’ administrative concerns. Population pressures due to the bio-dome dwellers’ limited space means serfs are considered disposable. Anyone who cannot in full health serve the Rajas is killed. Doctor-priests and regents are banned from reproducing. A legal system has developed that requires serfs to successfully apply for protection from a patron--or be considered fair game for abuse and murder at anyone’s hands. Not all the serfs, however, buy into this Rajas-centered worldview. And for the past several hundred years, they have been organizing. The Uprising is at hand, it is whispered, from one end of the bio-dome to the other. Only one corner of the bio-dome remains ignorant of these sweeping changes. Indeed, the people who live on the other side of the shelterbelt, along the edge of the bio-dome, don’t care about the bio-dome proper at all. They live their lives as they have since the crash-landing, hunting mammoles (descendants of Earth moles mutated into giant, but still low oxygen-needing creatures) for meat and gathering nectar from breathflowers to drink. They are not a primitive people though. Scientifically-minded, they deliberately curtail their technological development in order to live out the rhythms of the truly good life. When a season of unsuccessful hunts collides, however, with an increasing number of refugees fleeing the bio-dome proper, the tribe is forced to respond to the pressures their neighbors face, or risk being wiped out themselves.