Rip me to shreds!

[pink_silk_glove]

To answer both of you: it's going to be a slowly-growing-together story. She's refinding her confidence after the loss of her husband, he's looking for motherly affection. The vegetarian thing, coupled with a manual job to pay the rent, means that he'll get into better shape. Spending time together brings them out of their respective shells.

Ok, I'd buy that, but in this scene, she's not in a shell. At least you haven't put anything into the scene to suggest that she is in any type of shell. The fact that everyone reviewing this piece sees her as nothing less than the cool confident cougar, calm assured, sexy in every way, dressed the part and all. If she were shy or nervous in some way, or if she were dressed down and lacking confidence that way, trouble making eye contact would level the field between them. Or, if you wanted to make the story more serious and heavy, maybe if you went for the tragic throat and made her drunk and broken, drowning her sorrows, would make her vulnerable and sympathetic. Doesn't feel like that's where you want to go but just throwing that option out there. As it is, Mrs Welch suffers no flaws. So far, she is the nothing but the prototype hot confident cougar.

 

[StillStunned]

Ok, I'd buy that, but in this scene, she's not in a shell. At least you haven't put anything into the scene to suggest that she is in any type of shell. The fact that everyone reviewing this piece sees her as nothing less than the cool confident cougar, calm assured, sexy in every way, dressed the part and all. If she were shy or nervous in some way, or if she were dressed down and lacking confidence that way, trouble making eye contact would level the field between them. Or, if you wanted to make the story more serious and heavy, maybe if you went for the tragic throat and made her drunk and broken, drowning her sorrows, would make her vulnerable and sympathetic. Doesn't feel like that's where you want to go but just throwing that option out there. As it is, Mrs Welch suffers no flaws. So far, she is the nothing but the prototype hot confident cougar.

Fair point, and I'll take another look at how I present her. When I wrote this snippet, I wasn't sure what her precise situation was.

Of course there's a world of difference between a teenager's perception of an older woman, and what's actually going on inside her. Even so, some hints about her situation would definitely add depth. Thanks for pointing this out.

 

[ElectricBlue]

As it is, Mrs Welch suffers no flaws. So far, she is the nothing but the prototype hot confident cougar.

Or she's a serial killer with a very big basement, and lures young men to their doom. Every time a suspicious copper comes by she seduces him or her too, and puts the bodies in the same hole.

Plenty of ways this could go .

 

[StillStunned]

Because some people don't seem to understand that the aim of this thread is for writers to open their style up for critique, in a "let's see how other writers write" friendly kind of a way, rip this to shreds:

A couple of things with this snippet.

You keep referring to the women as girls, even though you've established that they're in their late-20s at the very least. I'd expect some comment about a big age difference then, for example "We chatted comfortably, even though I was at least twice their age."

When the narrator catches their attention, they "turn to look at him" several times without turning back.

I'm struggling with the logistics of the setup. The girls have to turn to look at the narrator. One of them is mostly visible as a bum (does the chair have an open back?) and a ponytail, but apparently he can tell her approximate age. He's also far enough away not to catch some of what they say to each other, but he's close enough to distinctly hear the comment about the waiter looking familiar. Then they all have a conversation, even though they're sitting at two different tables.

Lastly, I'd like to know more about the conversation that it can turn strangers into best friends in twenty minutes. Light-hearted banter? A shared interest in coffee? Who's doing the talking - is either of the girls more reserved? Is there any eye contact, any flirting? Any awkward moments caught in between talking and taking a bite of food?

And then the girls get up. Have they finished their meals and now they're in a hurry to go? And suddenly the narrator is leaving too. It all seems a bit abrupt, particularly after the details of their first interactions.

 

[ElectricBlue]

A couple of things with this snippet.

You keep referring to the women as girls, even though you've established that they're in their late-20s at the very least. I'd expect some comment about a big age difference then, for example "We chatted comfortably, even though I was at least twice their age."

I've not drawn attention to an age gap - we don't know how old the narrator is, that's not been established yet. It might be EB in the forum, doesn't mean it's EB in the story. I mean, I think you're older than nineteen...

Maybe it's another cultural difference, but many young women (my daughter for example, she's thirty-one) here in Oz refer to each other as girls. The word doesn't automatically connote teenager.

When the narrator catches their attention, they "turn to look at him" several times without turning back.

It's implied then, they turned away several times.

I'm struggling with the logistics of the setup. The girls have to turn to look at the narrator. One of them is mostly visible as a bum (does the chair have an open back?)

Does everything have to be explained down to that detail? The chair's not important, but her cute bum was. Why bother with the chair?

and a ponytail, but apparently he can tell her approximate age. He's also far enough away not to catch some of what they say to each other, but he's close enough to distinctly hear the comment about the waiter looking familiar. Then they all have a conversation, even though they're sitting at two different tables.

It's in fact a recount of what actually happened. The tables were about four metres apart in an open courtyard. I thought the "covid spacing" covered that - here in Australia, early covid social distancing impacted restaurants and cafes by spreading out the table spacing.

There was no-one else there, and once we starting talking, normal voices covered the distance easily.

Lastly, I'd like to know more about the conversation that it can turn strangers into best friends in twenty minutes. Light-hearted banter? A shared interest in coffee? Who's doing the talking - is either of the girls more reserved? Is there any eye contact, any flirting? Any awkward moments caught in between talking and taking a bite of food?

You're wanting an infodump in the set up .

In fact, we got on to talking about music performance - Bobbie was a music teacher, my son is a drummer - but for the purposes of the story, it's an opening vignette, the detail of the conversation isn't important for the story. It's the next encounter that gives this first encounter context. Then it focuses in on the story.

As it was, it was a pleasant twenty minutes chatting to two young women on a coolish autumn day. About the stuff you talk about with complete strangers who have made a friendly connection.

And then the girls get up. Have they finished their meals and now they're in a hurry to go? And suddenly the narrator is leaving too. It all seems a bit abrupt, particularly after the details of their first interactions.

We finished our coffee and snacks at the same time and they got up to go. They introduced themselves and I gave them my name, so it was a natural courtesy to go out of the courtyard together.

 

[Otto26]

Or she's a serial killer with a very big basement, and lures young men to their doom. Every time a suspicious copper comes by she seduces him or her too, and puts the bodies in the same hole.

Plenty of ways this could go .

I think that's an interesting update to Arsenic and Old Lace.

 

[StillStunned]

Action scenes are something I struggle with. It's hard to describe what I see in my mind without going into excessive detail or, at the other end of the spectrum, leaving the reader confused. So here's an excerpt from a recent chapter of my post-apocalyptic sci-fi series The Dome (including some minor spoilerage for anyone who's planning to read the series, but nothing earth-shattering).

As always, I'd appreciate any feedback to point out weaknesses. Does it work? Is it confusing? If so, in what way? Is it vivid enough, or does it feel a bit meeh?

(Background: the POV character Xero is trying to rescue the cat-woman Raurri from where she's being held captive by a boater, a tall mutated human.)

===
Something slithered across his arm, and for an instant he froze in horror until he realised it was the leash holding her to the stone. Cursing, he pulled out his knife and reached over the cat-woman's body to saw at the hide.

It was tougher than it looked, and his blade barely bit. Raurri was glaring at him, hissing. Ignoring her, and biting back another curse, he was about to renew his efforts when a heavy blow struck him in the side of his ribs.

With a cry he felt himself lifted into the air. The knife slipped from his grasp, but somehow he managed to twist and land safely, turning to face this unseen threat.

It was the boater, standing over him like a tower. "Lost your pet, have you?" he boomed. "Too late. She's mine now." His mouth split into a wide grin. "At least I don't have to choose between fucking her and eating her anymore."

Slowly, never taking his eyes off the tall figure, Xero got to his feet. His ribs hurt, but he could breathe still. He wasn't as fast as Raurri, and not as strong as Big Yek had been, but he could fight. Hand-to-hand combat had been part of the curriculum at his academy, and he'd excelled.

Now he adopted a fighting stance, knees bent and arms loose, studying his opponent for an opening. The boater had a longer reach, but--

His world exploded in pain and flashes of white. A fist slamming into his face, he realised, a moment before another landed on the side of his head.

None of his training had prepared him for this. He found himself sitting on his arse, blinking away tears and trying to focus. His mouth tasted of blood.

"What's the matter, stumpie?" The voice came from impossibly far overhead. "I thought you wanted to fight. But if you want to suck me off instead..." The boater gave a lecherous laugh.

Xero managed to get back to his knees, head spinning. A club-shaped foot came out of nowhere, a dull grey in the light of the fire, and he barely dodged out of its way. A fist flew at him, and he turned his shoulder into it, twisting his body to strike back.

His fist met only air and mocking laughter. "Try again, little one. Here, let me show you how."

This time he couldn't avoid the blow -- from foot or fist he couldn't tell -- and he was flung aside, gasping for breath and clutching at his ribs. Desperately he rolled away, trying to keep distance between himself and the giant, fighting to clear his head, fill his lungs with air, get his feet underneath him.

A massive foot thumped down beside him, and he looked up just in time to catch a fist on his chin. His limbs turned to jelly, and he collapsed onto the ground. Get up, he thought, I have to get up. For some reason it was very important, but he couldn't remember why.

There was a tall form standing over him, elongated to almost comical proportions. Or were there two forms? No, one was a stone. The other was speaking, but its voice was as distorted as its form. It seemed to want to eat him, like an ogre from one of those ancient tales. It was all very absurd, and he would have chuckled but there wasn't any air, and he found himself coughing instead.

Something heavy landed on his neck, forcing him into the ground. It smelled dead, although he wasn't sure whether that was the foot -- it was a foot on his neck, he decided -- or the ground.

This was bad. Very bad. A recollection floated across his mind that the foot's owner wanted to kill him. Or eat him. Or something very nasty. Forcing his body to obey, he twisted. The weight scraped from his neck and he rolled over.

Knife. The thought plodded across his mind. There was a knife, wasn't there? I remember checking for it on my belt, and then it was in my hand... But it wasn't there now.

The tall figure was still there though. Its skin glowed reddish in the firelight, and its face was split open in a wide grin. "Time to die, stumpy. My crew will have a tasty breakfast after we've fucked your little pet."

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Something slithered across his arm, and for an instant he froze in horror until he realised it was the leash holding her to the stone. Cursing, he pulled out his knife and reached over the cat-woman's body to saw at the hide.

It was tougher than it looked, and his blade barely bit. Raurri was glaring at him, hissing. Ignoring her, and biting back another curse, he was about to renew his efforts when a heavy blow struck him in the side of his ribs.

With a cry he felt himself lifted into the air. The knife slipped from his grasp, but somehow he managed to twist and land safely, turning to face this unseen threat.

It was the boater, standing over him like a tower. "Lost your pet, have you?" he boomed. "Too late. She's mine now." His mouth split into a wide grin. "At least I don't have to choose between fucking her and eating her anymore."

Slowly, never taking his eyes off the tall figure, Xero got to his feet. His ribs hurt, but he could breathe still. He wasn't as fast as Raurri, and not as strong as Big Yek had been, but he could fight. Hand-to-hand combat had been part of the curriculum at his academy, and he'd excelled.

Now he adopted a fighting stance, knees bent and arms loose, studying his opponent for an opening. The boater had a longer reach, but--

His world exploded in pain and flashes of white. A fist slamming into his face, he realised, a moment before another landed on the side of his head.

None of his training had prepared him for this. He found himself sitting on his arse, blinking away tears and trying to focus. His mouth tasted of blood.

"What's the matter, stumpie?" The voice came from impossibly far overhead. "I thought you wanted to fight. But if you want to suck me off instead..." The boater gave a lecherous laugh.

Xero managed to get back to his knees, head spinning. A club-shaped foot came out of nowhere, a dull grey in the light of the fire, and he barely dodged out of its way. A fist flew at him, and he turned his shoulder into it, twisting his body to strike back.

His fist met only air and mocking laughter. "Try again, little one. Here, let me show you how."

This time he couldn't avoid the blow -- from foot or fist he couldn't tell -- and he was flung aside, gasping for breath and clutching at his ribs. Desperately he rolled away, trying to keep distance between himself and the giant, fighting to clear his head, fill his lungs with air, get his feet underneath him.

A massive foot thumped down beside him, and he looked up just in time to catch a fist on his chin. His limbs turned to jelly, and he collapsed onto the ground. Get up, he thought, I have to get up. For some reason it was very important, but he couldn't remember why.

There was a tall form standing over him, elongated to almost comical proportions. Or were there two forms? No, one was a stone. The other was speaking, but its voice was as distorted as its form. It seemed to want to eat him, like an ogre from one of those ancient tales. It was all very absurd, and he would have chuckled but there wasn't any air, and he found himself coughing instead.

Something heavy landed on his neck, forcing him into the ground. It smelled dead, although he wasn't sure whether that was the foot -- it was a foot on his neck, he decided -- or the ground.

This was bad. Very bad. A recollection floated across his mind that the foot's owner wanted to kill him. Or eat him. Or something very nasty. Forcing his body to obey, he twisted. The weight scraped from his neck and he rolled over.

Knife. The thought plodded across his mind. There was a knife, wasn't there? I remember checking for it on my belt, and then it was in my hand... But it wasn't there now.

The tall figure was still there though. Its skin glowed reddish in the firelight, and its face was split open in a wide grin. "Time to die, stumpy. My crew will have a tasty breakfast after we've fucked your little pet."

In short, this is a Hollywood fight, and that's not a good thing.

There are good elements in here. The close narrative describing the scene from a sensory point is good. There are several things that are not necessarily bad in themselves, but added together make a very cliche scene. The pace of the scene is slow.

In a realistic fight, you want to incapacitate the opponent quickly and not give him a chance to fight back. The fact that this scene feels very stretched out and slow motion makes it Hollywood.

Now he adopted a fighting stance, knees bent and arms loose, studying his opponent for an opening. The boater had a longer reach, but--

His world exploded in pain and flashes of white. A fist slamming into his face, he realised, a moment before another landed on the side of his head.

This in particular was a cringe moment for me. The cut off narrative doesn't feel inspired. It feels like you're trying too hard. The same with 'exploded in pain' etc. That whole sentence is just tacky, over-written and under described, like a rookie poet throwing out vague imagery that he does not understand or relate to and hoping that it sticks. Well it doesn't stick.

There's the obligatory mouthful of blood. It's not at all unrealistic, but it is very cliche and entirely predictable. There's the scattered and disoriented thoughts after the blows. This is totally fine by itself (probably necessary), but seems cliche amidst the rest of it. And the one-sided beatdown, again nothing wrong with this in itself at all, but amidst the context it just screams predictable melodrama. Keep the best parts of this and tone down or omit the others. Pick up the pace and remove the cringey vague bits and the mouthful of blood will become realistic rather than obligatory. Hopefully this removes the melo from the drama, and you trade in the cliche for authenticity.

Biggest glaring issue though is the cliche taunting dialogue of the boater, especially with the big wide grin. It's not original at all. Not only are all of his lines tired and boring, they slow down the pace of the scene. He has to stop after every blow and make fun of him, like he's going to lash James Bond to a table saw and leave the room or something. : P Come up with some more original taunts, and perhaps give him less lines. As it is, I'm not afraid of this piece of cardboard because he looks so Hollywood fake. Make him real, make him scarier.

 

[XerXesXu]

Copilot suggested:

Xero’s heart raced as something slithered across his arm. In that instant, horror froze him—until he realized it was the leash, coiled like a serpent, binding the cat-woman to the ancient stone. Cursing under his breath, he drew his knife and leaned over her lithe form, determined to sever the stubborn hide.

But leather, it seemed, had its own resilience. His blade barely bit, and Raurri, the cat-woman, glared at him with feline disdain, her hiss echoing in the moonlit clearing. Ignoring her, Xero bit back another curse and prepared to renew his efforts when a heavy blow struck his ribs.

He gasped, lifted into the air, and the knife slipped from his grasp. Somehow, he twisted mid-air, landing safely. As he regained his footing, he faced an unexpected adversary: the boater—a hulking figure who loomed like a stone tower. His voice boomed, mocking Xero’s predicament.

“Lost your pet, have you?” The boater grinned, revealing teeth like broken rocks. “Too late. She’s mine now. No more choosing between fucking her and eating her—I get both.”

Xero’s academy training kicked in. He wasn’t as fast as Raurri or as strong as Big Yek, but he knew hand-to-hand combat. Adopting a fighting stance, he studied the boater. The man had a longer reach, but—

Pain exploded across Xero’s face, white flashes blinding him. His training hadn’t prepared him for this brutality. Blinking away tears, he tasted blood and struggled to focus.

“What’s the matter, stumpie?” The boater’s voice seemed impossibly distant. “Thought you wanted to fight. Or perhaps you’d prefer something else?” The lecherous laugh grated on Xero’s nerves.

He staggered to his knees, dodging a club-like foot. But the next blow—fist or foot, he couldn’t tell—sent him sprawling. Gasping, he rolled away, desperate to regain his bearings. Air. Lungs. Feet underneath him.

A massive foot thudded down, and Xero glimpsed the fist before it collided with his chin. His limbs turned to jelly, and he collapsed. Get up, he urged himself, though he couldn’t remember why it mattered so much.

The tall figure loomed—an absurd distortion, part stone, part nightmare. Was there another form? No, just the stone. And the voice—distorted, hungry—like an ogre from ancient tales. Xero would have chuckled if he could breathe, but coughs wracked his chest instead.

Something heavy pressed on his neck—dead weight. Foot or ground, he couldn’t tell. Panic surged. The foot’s owner wanted to kill him. Or eat him. Something nasty.

He twisted, scraping the weight from his neck. Where was his knife? He’d checked his belt, felt its reassuring presence, but now it was gone.

The tall figure remained, skin reddish in the firelight, grin splitting its face. “Time to die, stumpy,” it rasped. “My crew will feast after we’ve had our way with your little pet.”

And so, in that moonlit clearing, Xero fought for survival—against foes seen and unseen, against odds that defied reason. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he clung to defiance. For Raurri. For himself. And for the elusive knife that might yet turn the tide.

 

[StillStunned]

In short, this is a Hollywood fight, and that's not a good thing.

Thanks, that's what I was worried about. Not the taunting - it's already an established trait of the boater - but the melodrama and other clichés.

But at least it's better than this:

Copilot suggested:

Good job I didn't ask Copilot then! I might have my doubts about my ability to write a decent action scene, but I like to think my version was better than Copilot's.

 

[XerXesXu]

But at least it's better than this:

Good job I didn't ask Copilot then! I might have my doubts about my ability to write a decent action scene, but I like to think my version was better than Copilot's.

Opinions will vary.

You have a clunk coefficient of 30%. You could usefully address that. You didn't explain why the giant, Boater, punched like a girl, albeit Imane Khalife. Giants punch like Mike Tyson, but more so. I've seen an aggressive dog kicked into the air by my slender girlfriend, not a cat-woman but a sex-kitten. As soon as it recovered, it limped away as quickly as it could, yelping.

You have a problem with words, leashes tether etc. He could have twisted 'cat-like' rather than 'somehow'. Everyone has thrown a cat out the window and could picture that, hisses do not echo in a clearing, big boys don't cry, certainly not boys trained in yusi qusi, a defensive stand is weight over front foot and arms raised ready to block with the elbows, looking to counter-attack, nothing comes from impossibly far, say where it comes from, similarly nothing comes from nowhere, Xeno has a curious sense of humour, how did he 'scrape' the giant from his neck, whose thoughts 'plod', why doesn't the boater have a sex, or is them intersex, his intention to fuck cat-girl suggest he's a penis-haver.

On the positive side, it's better than your first effort. Expand your vocabulary, use appropriate words, reduce your prolixity and you'll be on your way.

 

[StillStunned]

You didn't explain why the giant, Boater, punched like a girl, albeit Imane Khalife. Giants punch like Mike Tyson, but more so. I've seen an aggressive dog kicked into the air by my slender girlfriend, not a cat-woman but a sex-kitten. As soon as it recovered, it limped away as quickly as it could, yelping.

It's not a giant called boater. From my earlier post: "she's being held captive by a boater, a tall mutated human". And (with apologies to @pink_silk_glove, because yes, it's a bit Hollywood), there wouldn't be much of a story if the hero slunk away at the first punch

You have a problem with words, leashes tether etc.

What's the problem? I use "leash" once. Because Raurri has a leash running from her neck to a stone.

He could have twisted 'cat-like' rather than 'somehow'.

I could, but that's not what I wanted to convey. He's a kid who gets lucky, not some ninja.

Everyone has thrown a cat out the window and could picture that,

I've never thrown a cat out of a window. I'd be more likely to throw a human out of the window if I saw one try.

hisses do not echo in a clearing,

That came from your Copilot rewrite, not my version.

big boys don't cry,

But someone who's been punched in the face will find their eyes watering.

certainly not boys trained in yusi qusi,

And what the hell is yusi qusi?

nothing comes from impossibly far, say where it comes from,

So "The voice came from improbably far overhead, emanating from the boater's mouth"?

similarly nothing comes from nowhere,

"A club-shaped foot came from somewhere Xero couldn't see"?

Sorry, I don't see either of these as an improvement.

Xeno has a curious sense of humour,

Or he's dazed and confused and has lost track of what's happening.

how did he 'scrape' the giant from his neck,

He didn't, at least not in my version ("The weight scraped from his neck and he rolled over"). Copilot turned it into "He twisted, scraping the weight from his neck."

whose thoughts 'plod',

Someone who's been punched in the head a few times and is unable to focus?

why doesn't the boater have a sex, or is them intersex, his intention to fuck cat-girl suggest he's a penis-haver.

The boater is male, but in Xero's confused perception he's reduced to a tall, abstract figure.

Expand your vocabulary, use appropriate words, reduce your prolixity

Somehow this seems contradictory.

I welcome feedback, but please don't suggest that the Copilot rewrite is in any way an improvement.

 

[XerXesXu]

I welcome feedback, but please don't suggest that the Copilot rewrite is in any way an improvement.

Shakespeare comes to mind, "... the lady doth protest too much, methinks."

Is this within the rules, see#1 above?

The point of my criticism is that the Copilot rewrite, though imperfect, was more vivid and concise than your snippet. In my view it was a considerable improvement.

Leashes tether, rather than hold. Yusi Qusi is a private joke we at the academy share - Unarmed Close Quarters Combat, U.C.Q.C. You now suggest that it was the boater that scraped, not the foot. That confused both me and Copilot, the foot had no intentionality of its own, Xero did.

Unless you specifically request it, I shan't provide further and better particulars.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Thanks, that's what I was worried about. Not the taunting - it's already an established trait of the boater - but the melodrama and other clichés.

He can still taunt absolutely, but the taunting needs to be more original and less cliche. I'm not afraid of him. This scene has our hero in a fight with the odds heavily against him. The reader needs to feel some tension, some adrenaline. The goal here is to generate a little sweat for the reader. This isn't happening because the boater is a cardboard mook that we've seen a million times. He's glib, he's base, he's dumb, a big heap of tired tropes, and he's entirely predictable. There is no tension in such predictability. He needs to be more of a boss. If he is already established as this tired caricature, I would strongly consider rewriting those establishing scenes.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Good job I didn't ask Copilot then! I might have my doubts about my ability to write a decent action scene, but I like to think my version was better than Copilot's.

Co-pilot did nothing to change/fix the scene elements nor the weak villain, however co-pilot's version reads and flows much smoother. On my first couple of reads I was so preoccupied with the characters and the scene elements that I did not notice just how awkward your prose was overall. I did see rough moments like "pain exploded" but now reading it again, stuff like "A club-shaped foot came out of nowhere," and "a massive foot thumped down," are so disconnected that even your narrative sounds cliche. I understand that you are trying to convey disorientation, but it is obvious to everyone who the foot belongs to and where it's coming from.

From time to time I suffer from moments like this where the narrative is forced. Invariably this is because I was struggling with how to present the scene right from the start and so just barged my way through it and of course came up with something uber clunky. And I think that is why you have shared this scene to help fix it, because you struggled with it right from the beginning and forced your way through with whatever ideas you could grab and hence, cliche Hollywood fight scene came out with awkward unflowing prose to boot. It takes some guts to lay it out there and say "I know that it's wrong, not sure why, help me."

 

[mildlyaroused]

I welcome feedback, but please don't suggest that the Copilot rewrite is in any way an improvement.

For what it's worth, I agree that the Copilot rewrite is pretty poor. Certainly worse than your original passage. It's also funny that someone with "To be your own man is a hard business" in their signature should immediately outsource their feedback to a generative AI.

In any case, if I had to critique your original passage I'd agree with Miss PSG that the main issue is one of cliche. The taunts, the simple violence itself, some of the descriptions (his world exploded, his limbs turned to jelly) are pretty flavourless. But I don't think the prose itself is an issue, as posited by the other two who have critiqued before me. Things are chaotic, which is good if that's your goal. Much of what you wrote has a lot more flavour and feels more personal than re-write the AI "suggested."

I'll take this sentence as an example. Your wrote:

Get up, he thought, I have to get up. For some reason it was very important, but he couldn't remember why.

Copilot wrote:

Get up, he urged himself, though he couldn’t remember why it mattered so much.

Does Copilot write in a more straightforward, accessible manner? Yes. But it loses the nuance of the moment. Copilot's sentence reads as though the protagonist has quite literally forgotten why they need to get up. Yours reads more like they're dazed. There is a sense of urgency in the italics which the Copilot sentence has completely lost in translation.

This is partly a critique, but it's also just a sneer at the AI - which I dislike on principle, I'll admit it, but which I also dislike on its own merits as a writer (even if it were human). "Xero’s heart raced as something slithered across his arm"? Come on, now. "The man had a longer reach, but—"? The boater is not a man. This is confusing. "And so, in that moonlit clearing, Xero fought for survival—against foes seen and unseen, against odds that defied reason"? This is about as stale and melodramatic as things can possibly get. All hail the machine - I think not!

 

[XerXesXu]

For what it's worth, I agree that the Copilot rewrite is pretty poor. Certainly worse than your original passage. It's also funny that someone with "To be your own man is a hard business" in their signature should immediately outsource their feedback to a generative AI.

In any case, if I had to critique your original passage I'd agree with Miss PSG that the main issue is one of cliche. The taunts, the simple violence itself, some of the descriptions (his world exploded, his limbs turned to jelly) are pretty flavourless. But I don't think the prose itself is an issue, as posited by the other two who have critiqued before me. Things are chaotic, which is good if that's your goal. Much of what you wrote has a lot more flavour and feels more personal than re-write the AI "suggested."

I'll take this sentence as an example. Your wrote:

Copilot wrote:


Does Copilot write in a more straightforward, accessible manner? Yes. But it loses the nuance of the moment. Copilot's sentence reads as though the protagonist has quite literally forgotten why they need to get up. Yours reads more like they're dazed. There is a sense of urgency in the italics which the Copilot sentence has completely lost in translation.

This is partly a critique, but it's also just a sneer at the AI - which I dislike on principle, I'll admit it, but which I also dislike on its own merits as a writer (even if it were human). "Xero’s heart raced as something slithered across his arm"? Come on, now. "The man had a longer reach, but—"? The boater is not a man. This is confusing. "And so, in that moonlit clearing, Xero fought for survival—against foes seen and unseen, against odds that defied reason"? This is about as stale and melodramatic as things can possibly get. All hail the machine - I think not!

As I said, opinions will vary on which is the worse rendition. In my opinion, Copilot's was much more literate than the original. It's telling that you've declared your dislike of AI on principle and your critique reads, and should be read, in that light.

There must be some standard against which one measures the standard of one's writing, Copilot does not write to a standard to which anyone should aspire. Do we agree on this? That's why I asked Copilot to rewrite it, it's rewrite is a standard against which snippets can be measured. Note that SS has confirmed that the boater is a man. Even you have been confused by SS' snippet. It's confusing in many ways, not just cliche ridden, and his word use is clumsy.

Would you agree that if the only disagreement is whether his snippet has a little more or little less merit than Copilots, it's certainly not very good?

Do you know of a standard, other than Copilot's rewrite, which approaches an objective measure? Copilot is simply a tool to be used judiciously.

 

[mildlyaroused]

As I said, opinions will vary on which is the worse rendition. In my opinion, Copilot's was much more literate than the original. It's telling that you've declared your dislike of AI on principle and your critique reads, and should be read, in that light.

There must be some standard against which one measures the standard of one's writing, Copilot does not write to a standard to which anyone should aspire. Do we agree on this? That's why I asked Copilot to rewrite it, it's rewrite is a standard against which snippets can be measured. Note that SS has confirmed that the boater is a man. Even you have been confused by SS' snippet. It's confusing in many ways, not just cliche ridden, and his word use is clumsy.

Would you agree that if the only disagreement is whether his snippet has a little more or little less merit than Copilots, it's certainly not very good?

Do you know of a standard, other than Copilot's rewrite, which approaches an objective measure? Copilot is simply a tool to be used judiciously.

The boater is "male." I wasn't confused by SS's passage. Copilot referring to it as a "man" whose arms are long is confusing, especially when the protagonist of the passage is a human man and the passage is written in third person. You don't call a male dog a "man." Likewise you shouldn't call a boater that unless there has been a precedent set.

I'm not arguing that SS's original passage is a Shakespearean masterpiece, or that Copilot's is a complete mess. As is the case with most things in life, they both lie somewhere in the middle. But I don't think it's helpful to offer up Copilot's re-write as some sort of bar to strive towards, when it is riddled with flaws. If we agree on that, then what's the point in offering it up at all? You must realise that most writers won't be too pleased when you say nothing other than "This AI suggested this..."

An AI-written passage isn't an objective measure. There is no objective measure of fictional writing beyond syntax, grammar, spelling, etc. That's what makes it fiction. If there "must be some standard against which one measures the standard of one's writing", why would you present a standard which is so flawed? It doesn't lend itself to comparison in the way you seem to think it does. For every flaw it might improve upon (readability, sentence structure), it introduces a basket of new flaws to the conversation (lack of nuance, uniqueness, tone, author's voice)! This even came back to bite you when you started listing off some flaws you saw in SS's passage which were actually only present in the one Copilot wrote. Why not lead by pointing out the flaws you saw?

 

[XerXesXu]

The boater is "male." I wasn't confused by SS's passage. Copilot referring to it as a "man" whose arms are long is confusing, especially when the protagonist of the passage is a human man and the passage is written in third person. You don't call a male dog a "man." Likewise you shouldn't call a boater that unless there has been a precedent set.

I'm not arguing that SS's original passage is a Shakespearean masterpiece, or that Copilot's is a complete mess. As is the case with most things in life, they both lie somewhere in the middle. But I don't think it's helpful to offer up Copilot's re-write as some sort of bar to strive towards, when it is riddled with flaws. If we agree on that, then what's the point in offering it up at all? You must realise that most writers won't be too pleased when you say nothing other than "This AI suggested this..."

An AI-written passage isn't an objective measure. There is no objective measure of fictional writing beyond syntax, grammar, spelling, etc. That's what makes it fiction. If there "must be some standard against which one measures the standard of one's writing", why would you present a standard which is so flawed? It doesn't lend itself to comparison in the way you seem to think it does. For every flaw it might improve upon (readability, sentence structure), it introduces a basket of new flaws to the conversation (lack of nuance, uniqueness, tone, author's voice)! This even came back to bite you when you started listing off some flaws you saw in SS's passage which were actually only present in the one Copilot wrote. Why not lead by pointing out the flaws you saw?

We're at the level of disputing whether an acknowledged human male can be described as a 'man'. Sad.

Of course, I realise most writers won't be too pleased to learn their snippet compares approximately to AI. I think you've misunderstood the point of this thread, see #1 above. I sense that detailing every flaw would be more crushing than pointing out how AI would rewrite it. The comparison can be instructive. It's likely to be eye-opening. I think it's glaringly obvious why I'd invite a comparison with AI where appropriate to do so.

Did I, or did I not list some flaws I saw? Make up your mind.

You make your critique, I'll make mine, you use your judgement, I'll use mine. Those are the rules, and I sense your invincible dislike of AI brings nothing productive to the thread.

 

[mildlyaroused]

We're at the level of disputing whether an acknowledged human male can be described as a 'man'. Sad.

No - I was explaining that you were incorrect in your supposition that I had misinterpreted the original passage. Beyond that, this is a question of clarity in pronouns.

Of course, I realise most writers won't be too pleased to learn their snippet compares approximately to AI. I think you've misunderstood the point of this thread, see #1 above. I sense that detailing every flaw would be more crushing than pointing out how AI would rewrite it. The comparison can be instructive. It's likely to be eye-opening. I think it's glaringly obvious why I'd invite a comparison with AI where appropriate to do so.

Did I, or did I not list some flaws I saw? Make up your mind.

Not really - only once your original response was rejected, because you said nothing other than "Here is what Copilot wrote..." The point is that if you're going to provide feedback, why would you provide inherently stunted feedback in the form of an AI-generated passage? It seems counter productive. It introduces flaws that weren't ever present, and wouldn't have been present if you just offered your own critique.

You can say what you want about my dislike of AI. By all means use it yourself: my point, which I clarified in my first post, is that the flaws of the writing are present regardless of whether it was AI- or human-written, and those flaws mean that it's not a bar to aspire towards for improvement. If I were wearing a hat, I'd tip it to you.

 

[MetaBob]

My excerpt:

===

There’s a place in Spain where you can walk all day and never see another human being. Where your only companions are the snake gliding through the brush, the ibex clinging to the cliff, the eagle soaring overhead.

The sound of this place is the soft wind as it mourns an abandoned farmstead or a shrine to a long-dead pilgrim. <em>Iago Blas, obit. 1458.</em>

The landscape is drawn in harsh contours, unsoftened by any thickness of the air. The moisture has been sucked out of it by a sun so greedy that it’s leeched the colour from the rocks and plants.

It’s a hard land, and lonely. The rocks beneath your feet are the very bones of the mountains. It’s a bleak place, where the spirits of nature feel very close.

It was still early when I set out on this particular day. I’d spent the night at a small farm perched midway up a slope, with stone walls so thick I had to lean out of the window to get any signal on my phone. The full moon painted the fields below a glowing silver and softened the hard lines of the day.

I made my farewells to my landlady, responding to the words I recognised in her regular salvos of speech and nodding and smiling through the rest. Her husband’s tractor stood in the distance, perched at an impossible angle on the slope, but the man himself was nowhere in sight. I tried to be polite and keep my gaze away from the valley of cleavage that was on display, but I promised myself to revisit the memory later.

Stuffing the lunch she’d prepared for me in my pack and waving one last time – and enjoying the movement as she waved back – I stepped onto a narrow path uphill. It led me over the crest, then down into a gorge. The birds that populated the farm and its fields soon fell silent in the morning’s heat, and I left the place behind as I put one foot in front of the other, again and again and again, and let my mind wander.

Besides the occasional crunch of gravel under my feet and the low murmur of the stream further below, all I heard was silence. It was like a constant whisper in my ear, growing louder, somehow, as the sounds of the water also grew bolder.

By midmorning I’d reached the point where the path crossed the river. Ancient stones, of a bluey-grey that seemed alien to these mountains, lay across the stream like the dolmens that stood scattered across the landscape.

The stream had come awake with the climbing sun. It sang and chortled its way over its rocky bed, hemmed in by steep sides above and below me. Far off in the distance, a dark spot moved in lazy circles against the full blue of the sky. An eagle. For a while I watched it: king of the morning’s warm air.

===

You are obviously a more-than-competent writer, but I think you also have a tendency to overwrite, to hold your language to the light to admire its glittering facets. I do not share that fascination; I want to hear about the people in the story more than the places they visit or to admire the ... glitter.

If you're already good, how could you be better? I think the title you have given to this thread indicates that you are open to honest or even extensive criticism. Please don't take it the wrong way, 'cause I'll be merciless. Apologies in advance.

I like to cite Elmore Leonard, though remaining aware that he cites counters for many of his examples:

2 [From the prologue to John Steinbeck's Sweet Thursday]: "I like a lot of talk in a book and I don't like to have nobody tell me what the guy that's talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. . . . figure out what the guy's thinking from what he says. I like some description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a little song with language. That's nice. But I wish it was set aside so I don't have to read it. I don't want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the story."
9 Don't go into great detail describing places and things, unless you're Margaret Atwood and can paint scenes with language or write landscapes in the style of Jim Harrison. But even if you're good at it, you don't want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.
10 Think of what you skip when reading a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them.
My most important rule is one that sums up the 10: if it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

The sound of this place is [good, draws me closer, except the only example of sound you give does not]
the soft wind as it mourns an abandoned farmstead or [ugh]
a shrine to a long-dead pilgrim. <em>Iago Blas, obit. 1458.</em> [draws me closer]

The landscape is drawn in harsh contours, unsoftened by any thickness of the air. [nix]
The moisture has been sucked out of it by a sun so greedy [nice!]
that it’s leeched the colour from the rocks and plants. [it's = it has, but the contraction pushes me away; also: two occurrences of "the" in the second phrase. "rocks and plants": blah. Pick one and emphasize it.]

It’s a hard land, and lonely. [blah]
The rocks beneath your feet are the very bones of the mountains. [good, but]
It’s a bleak place, where the spirits of nature feel very close. [also good, but]
Find some way to combine this (hopefully) curtailed paragraph with the previous one (or two)

It was still early when I set out on this particular day. [Arguably necessary, but could be nixed]
I’d spent the night at a small farm perched midway up a slope, with stone walls so thick I had to lean out of the window to get any signal on my phone. [Eff yes!]
The full moon painted the fields below a glowing silver [meh. Rephrase, 'cause it could be good.]
and softened the hard lines of the day. [blah]

I made my farewells to my landlady, responding to the words I recognised in her regular salvos of speech and nodding and smiling through the rest. Her husband’s tractor stood in the distance, perched at an impossible angle on the slope, but the man himself was nowhere in sight. I tried to be polite and [blah]
keep [kept]
my gaze away from the valley of cleavage that was on display, but I promised myself to revisit the memory later. [now we're getting somewhere]

Stuffing the lunch she’d prepared for me in my pack and waving one last time [reorder]
– and enjoying the movement as she waved back – [smiles]
I stepped onto a narrow path uphill. [I would switch "uphill" and "path"]

Besides the occasional crunch of gravel under my feet and the low murmur of the stream further below, [good]
all I heard was silence. [blah]
It was like a constant whisper in my ear, growing louder, somehow, as the sounds of the water also grew bolder. [Trim this paragraph. It wants to be better. Ex: "It was like a constant whisper in my ear, growing louder as the sounds of water grew bolder." -- "bolder" is better than "louder" if you want to drop one.]

By midmorning I’d reached the point where the path crossed the river. [Crap, I'm rewriting now. I hope you understand where I'm going: "By midmorning my path crossed the river."]
Ancient stones, of a bluey-grey that seemed alien to these mountains, lay across the stream ["bluey" is meh; "blue" works just as well.]
like the dolmens that stood scattered across the landscape. [has potential, but unless you're prepared to explore this: nix]

The stream had come [had come -> came]
awake with the climbing sun. It sang and chortled its way over its rocky bed, [pretty good]
hemmed in by steep sides above and below me. [better, but I'm a hiker and can probably visualize this better than most]
Far off [a. pick one]
in the distance, [b. pick one]
a dark spot moved in lazy circles against the full blue of the sky. [nix "of the"]
An eagle. [what kind? Or was it a hawk? A falcon?]
For a while I watched it: [yes]
king of the morning’s warm air. [effing no.]

 

[XerXesXu]

No - I was explaining that you were incorrect in your supposition that I had misinterpreted the original passage. Beyond that, this is a question of clarity in pronouns.


Not really - only once your original response was rejected, because you said nothing other than "Here is what Copilot wrote..." The point is that if you're going to provide feedback, why would you provide inherently stunted feedback in the form of an AI-generated passage? It seems counter productive. It introduces flaws that weren't ever present, and wouldn't have been present if you just offered your own critique.

You can say what you want about my dislike of AI. By all means use it yourself: my point, which I clarified in my first post, is that the flaws of the writing are present regardless of whether it was AI- or human-written, and those flaws mean that it's not a bar to aspire towards for improvement. If I were wearing a hat, I'd tip it to you.

You explained that a dog was not a man. Very perceptive.

Give Copilot a few of your snippets to rewrite. Tell us what you think. You've read my signature; you see I'm an experimentalist. I experiment. That's how I learn to use new tools, that's why I know that comparison to a Copilot rewrite can be used as a reasonably objective standard to exceed. If you can't exceed that standard, you're struggling. I expect your as amazed as I am that there's currently a live thread titled 'AI writing is really good.'

 

[StillStunned]

Shakespeare comes to mind, "... the lady doth protest too much, methinks."

Is this within the rules, see#1 above?

To explain why I don't feel that an AI rewrite is valid criticism? I think so.

The point of my criticism is that the Copilot rewrite, though imperfect, was more vivid and concise than your snippet. In my view it was a considerable improvement.

Concise, sure. As in, it leaves out elements so that the scene doesn't make sense. For instance, I wrote:

None of his training had prepared him for this. He found himself sitting on his arse, blinking away tears and trying to focus. His mouth tasted of blood.

"What's the matter, stumpie?" The voice came from impossibly far overhead. "I thought you wanted to fight. But if you want to suck me off instead..." The boater gave a lecherous laugh.

Xero managed to get back to his knees, head spinning.

Copilot rewrote this as:

Pain exploded across Xero’s face, white flashes blinding him. His training hadn’t prepared him for this brutality. Blinking away tears, he tasted blood and struggled to focus.

“What’s the matter, stumpie?” The boater’s voice seemed impossibly distant. “Thought you wanted to fight. Or perhaps you’d prefer something else?” The lecherous laugh grated on Xero’s nerves.

He staggered to his knees, dodging a club-like foot.

Which doesn't make any sense. In my version, Xero falls onto his arse. Now the boater's voice is coming from much further away than when he was standing. The boater's taunt about sucking him off is linked directly to Xero sitting in front of him, looking up. In the rewrite, there's no reason for the boater to say "Or perhaps you'd prefer something else?" because that dynamic has been omitted. And then Xero gets to his feet, which in the rewrite he shouldn't have to, because he never fell down.

So you might say I have "a clunk coefficient of 30%", but apparently that means "Copilot cut the text by 30% so that it's no longer a cohesive whole".

Yusi Qusi is a private joke we at the academy share - Unarmed Close Quarters Combat, U.C.Q.C.

I doubt that whatever academy you're referring to is the same one that a character in a post-apocalyptic sci-fi story attended.

You now suggest that it was the boater that scraped, not the foot. That confused both me and Copilot, the foot had no intentionality of its own, Xero did.

Yeah, but Copilot also thought that the ground could be a dead weight on Xero's neck, so I don't rate its comprehension very highly.

Unless you specifically request it, I shan't provide further and better particulars.

Yes, we should probably agree to disagree about what constitutes useful criticism.

 

[StillStunned]

Co-pilot did nothing to change/fix the scene elements nor the weak villain, however co-pilot's version reads and flows much smoother.

For a fight scene in the mud, with the POV character being smacked around by someone who's much bigger and stronger, I felt that short, choppy prose worked better than smooth sentences.

From time to time I suffer from moments like this where the narrative is forced. Invariably this is because I was struggling with how to present the scene right from the start and so just barged my way through it and of course came up with something uber clunky. And I think that is why you have shared this scene to help fix it, because you struggled with it right from the beginning and forced your way through with whatever ideas you could grab and hence, cliche Hollywood fight scene came out with awkward unflowing prose to boot. It takes some guts to lay it out there and say "I know that it's wrong, not sure why, help me."

Like I said, I don't do action sequences very well. I had the same problem with another story, where a reader commented that they struggled to follow the action. You'd think it would be the same as writing sex scenes, but apparently it's not.

(And yes, I have difficulty writing villains too.)

 

[StillStunned]

In any case, if I had to critique your original passage I'd agree with Miss PSG that the main issue is one of cliche. The taunts, the simple violence itself, some of the descriptions (his world exploded, his limbs turned to jelly) are pretty flavourless.

Thanks, it's clear that this is something for me to work on.

I'm not going to discuss the merits and demerits of Copilot's rewrite anymore, except to say that it's an insult to have it held up as some kind of standard for me to aspire to.