Readers wanted for an SF novella, “A Fire in the Heavens.”
This is a 16,000 word novella — well, technically it’s a novelette, but just barely. Anyway, I’m looking for readers who would be willing to give me their gut reaction to it. Mostly what I’m looking for are large story issues. In particular, things that:
- Confuse you
- You don’t believe
- You are bored by
- You think are cool (So I don’t accidentally fix them.)
I enjoy stream-of-conciousness reactions as well, because that tells me how the story is playing. Talking to me about sentence level stuff at this point is like going to a rehearsal and saying, “Your actors aren’t in costume.” I know that. In other words, what I’m looking for is your reader reaction.
I should note that for those of you who are interested in process, this is a second draft, but still very raw. The first draft was about 9,000 words long because I rushed it. It is also the story that we brainstormed at Writing Excuses last year. NOTE: If you have not read the post or listened to the podcast, I’d prefer if you waited until after reading this draft, as it has changed significantly since then. I’m including the link just because I know that some of you are curious about watching the evolution of a story.
Here’s your teaser.
A Fire in the Heavens
Katin was awake before the sailor knocked on the door to her cabin. She had slept poorly since they had left Marth and tonight the sway of her hammock mixed with uneasy dreams. She had turned to her book of scripture to try seek comfort from the Principium. But a knock in the middle of the night? Her heart sped. Had the crew finally decided to mutiny? No. A mutiny would not begin with a knock. She sent a prayer to the Seven Sisters to grant her calm.
“Enter.” Katin tucked her book into the sash at her waist and swung her legs over the side of her hammock, setting her bare feet on the smooth wood floor. She had removed her leg wraps to sleep, letting the loose fabric of her leggings puddle on the bridges of her feet.
In the deep night, the light of Lesid’s glowdisc cast swaying shadows against the tiny space. “Pardon, Mother, but the captain says we are in sight of land.”
“Praise the Sisters.” Months at sea, and she had begun to think there was no other shore.
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Edited: Thanks so much to everyone who volunteered. I’m set for readers now.