Hi Everyone yeah it's another writing attempt and it's xuanhuan. I'd like some feedback before I continue writing. Synopsis: “The world is strange” “In the cosmos there is a bizarre force it permeates all of reality, it’s unavoidable and ethereal.” A spark of life and a spark of death. Many have had it few have used it. The rules bind us but the spark can free us. The spark is called many things because it can be anything and be used for anything. The spark is truth and the spark is reality. Table Of Contents: Chapter 1 The Spark
Chapter 1 The Spark Spoiler In a dark room just past 12 am sits a young man on a couch. Dark short hair and dark eyes glisten as the light from a computer screen flickers in his eyes. He looks at the screen intently and goes to google chrome. He opens the computer up to google and looks at the screen sitting there quietly. He stands up and goes to the microwave he warms up water and makes instant coffee. He sips the coffee and looks out the kitchen window. It’s raining and very hard. The white garage in the backyard and all the houses throughout suffer from the rain’s assault. He sighs and feels tired before a determined glint appeared in his eye. “The first book failed but it was based on my life so I kept writing. The second book was an improvement but failed after 2 chapters. Not enough detail and not enough world building also too ridiculous. The third was much better but it was formulaic and based on other stories. I couldn’t enjoy writing someone else’s book. Since then it has been 2 months and I still can’t get inspired to try again.” “Why is writing so good and yet so bad at the same time.” The coffee once again burns down his throat. So he stuffs some bread into alleviate the heat. “I have been a consumer for a long time but I never realized producing is so hard. Everyone hates tropes but it’s hard to think outside the box for everything. Everyone expects fast releases and unique approaches. But I am not Er Gen nor am I Tang Jia San Shao.” “The golden number 2000 words per chapter no shock and awe. No oh no is that the legendary...insert mc powerup here. No info dumps, no arrogant young master for plot development. But world building is tough maybe it’s because I focus on the mc but everyone else is hard to think about. Especially fights how do you describe them what is the golden number for a fight length?” Finishing the coffee and bread he stands up and leaves. At his computer a colorful background moves around on his screen. Tapping his mouse he sits once again staring at the computer and he clicked google drive from his bookmarks. As he logged in he saw his 3 failed novels and miscellaneous files. Then he created a new google doc. He sits looking at the empty google doc and then starts to mumble. “The world is strange” “In the cosmos there is a bizarre force it permeates all of reality, it’s unavoidable and ethereal.” He thinks back to his days learning about philosophy and free will in college. “Events that are unlikely somehow still happen. People who try for the lottery depend on this force for hope though it is unlikely. Some call it coincidence, some see it as destiny or fate. It has many names and is often debated on. Most treat it as just cause and effect and it is all governed by the laws of physics. Since we can predict motion we can predict how you think. It’s just the rules of reality are unbreakable. It’s hope to some, it’s hell for others, it’s there for all, it’s not there to touch, and whether or not the rules are being controlled or were created I don’t know.” After sorting this out in his head he starts to write on the google doc. The more he writes the more he feels inspired. He writes in a furious pace disbelieving that his inspiration has finally come. As he writes his eyes get heavy and the surroundings dim then it all went dark. An undetermined amount of time passes and he wakes up to see a strange dream like place. It was his bedroom. The bed in the corner the desk near the window. The closet stuffed with clothes the ironer near the door. The posters throughout the room all the same. But an archaic feeling permeates the room. He cannot focus on a poster without it be coming blurry. If he looked to closely throughout the room something similar to gravitational lensing would happen. As he becomes aware he looked throughout the room and hears a strange mumbling. The lights start flickering he feels panicked and confused. Feeling dreadful of the situation he avoids speaking out loud ‘Where the hell am I?’ Feeling even more apprehensive he remembers what happened before this dream scape. ‘I went to bed after writing and then I woke up to this place.’ But then he had a thought a strange one he didn’t dare believe. ‘Did I really wake up or am I still asleep.’ As he was stuck thinking about the situation the mumbling became more distinct and louder. It echoed in his ears but he couldn’t tell what was being said. Like something was stopping the mumbling from meaning anything. ‘If this is my bedroom then I can walk right out. The last thing I did was write on my computer so maybe this has something to do with that? I’ll just retrace my steps and then I’ll be more likely to get out of here.’ He looks around once more noting the scenery then a thought occurs to him. ‘Although leaving might lead to worse consequences...Arghh doing nothing is too passive. I need to take action to ensure my safety not sit around hoping to survive.’ The scenery distorts as he moves closer to the door. The door creaks with each tiny push. The light in the bedroom which was flickering then died. He looks out at the hallway and sees it as pitch black except for the living room and the kitchen. Quietly sneaking to the kitchen he sees a shadow drinking coffee and eating bread at the table. Mumbling to itself in an incomprehensible language. ‘The way the shadow eats, what they eat, even the sitting and mumbling are all what I do. Is that me then? If it is then what is this place and what am I saying?’ He thinks to himself and then the kitchen light starts flickering until it dies and it becomes pitch black with the exception of the living room. ‘Are the lights leading me then should I leave? What happens if I don’t leave?’ ‘Though I hate having no control in this situation. Maybe vying for control in this strange place isn’t such a good idea. For now I should follow along until I know what is happening then I can be the best decision.’ He leaves the kitchen and walks to the living the final place with light. On the couch is a shadowy figure. Light from the computer hitting it yet the shadow’s face could not be seen. ‘This is strange but either those shadows are me or they are portraying me. But why is all this happening it’s too realistic to be a dream. Yet to unrealistic to be reality and why can’t I see the stuff here?’ He Gazing even more intently at the shadow still only seeing a blur. He inches closer to the shadow looking around for threats. Each step increasing the tension is the air. The shadow remains in place still staring at the computer. The dread in the young man’s heart increasing every second. When he reaches the shadow he sneaks to the side to look at the computer. Then he sees a google drive doc and which was currently empty. The shadow continues to stare at the screen until a white haired old man appears right next to the shadow. At that moment the young man sees the old man his heart stopped. He felt the urge to scream but found he was unable too. Then the old man spoke. “Shh...you’ll disturb him just wait a moment okay?” Confused in the moment he dared not even think he stood to the side. Then the white haired old man tapped the shadow on the head. The young man watched in shock as the blurry shadow became himself. Dark short hair and dark eyes glistening with inspiration. His shadow self started to type furiously and the old man stood up and look over at the young man on the side. Their eyes met and the young man felt the ancientness of the old man as if he surpassed all of creation and time. He felt an urge to worship the old man but opted otherwise. ‘Who is this guy and what did he do to me?’ “Don’t worry you don’t need to who I am. All I did was give you the necessary inspiration. But you used that to transcend which is strange even for me.” “Umm...senior what is it that I transcended?” The old man stared at the young man then he spoke. “History calls them by many names yaoguai in china, yokai in japan, demons in america, and jinns in arabia. They are those who have failed transcendence. Angels, gods, demigods and that lot are included. They have all failed some have made the best of their situation and became godly. Those who failed and succumbed to depravity are the so called demons.” “It’s called transcendence because they have transcended what you wrote.” Still processing the information the young man is further dumbfounded at the implications then he hears the last sentence. He looks over at the screen of the computer and sees what he wrote again. ‘Transcended what is often called destiny and they become a god or a demon.’ As he continued to think the old man started to speak again. “Apotheosis, demonic transmigration, the path of a buddha, and many more lead to transcendence. It all is about the spark I bring it over sometimes they just need to call me. Your prophets and many gods throughout history come about as such.” “Fate is all around us and the rules are everywhere. But using the spark you transcend the rules but only here and you are then constrained to new rules.” ‘So all the religious paths are steps to reaching transcendence but transcendence doesn’t mean surpassing all the rules just getting new rules. But how did I reach it and why?’ “Your spark lead to a new world. Getting the spark means calling me. It’s a call of fate and often it is about a great destiny and a long path. Jesus called me, buddha called me, and mohamed called me. It isn’t about religion it’s about fate and I do not know how it happens maybe it is just a coincidence.” “I’d rather not lecture you on what I believe. I’d rather you see what comes next. What do they say again two heads are better than one?” “Isn’t that strange the concept of the observer? Is it possible to observe without interfering?” “If we have a writer then reading changes the text from ideas to a different world. Is writing giving birth to a new world? The writer created the ideas but the world only came into existence in the reader’s mind.” “Either way I am the writer and you are my main character. They are the observer and let’s see what fate has in store for us.” “Wait what does that mean I created a world and I am the main character? Who are these observers? Who are you?” “I give the spark to those who call me but I moonlight as a writer. You created a new world with your spark so I am going to write you in and the readers will watch your life.” The computer light started to flicker and the young man froze. “Wait I still don’t understand what is happening?” “3….2….1….0” The computer light went out the shadow disappeared and the young man fell asleep again. The old man looked at him and spoke. “It’s been a long time someone created another universe but not through writing. When you wake up you will experience a brand new world.”
You can consider chapter 1 to be a prologue as for the system and what happens that will come later. For now I am building the world but cultivation comes later. Pacing might be a problem and I am working that out now. Any suggestions would be appreciated. Tips are appreciated especially on world building tell me how detailed should it be as well writing style and whether or not it works. Lastly do tell if the prologue is too vague or doesn't build enough.
When you use too much 'he' as sentence starter (or w/e its name), it feels elementary-ish. It's like this paragraph : I love my sister. She is ten years older than me. She likes every black colored stuff. She often talked to a strange horned guy in her room. She sacrificed our parents to Satan. Try make your sentence like this : From the kitchen window he could see the heavy raining outside; The screen already dimmed once he returned to his seat. He gave the mouse a little shaking before proceeding to open his Google docs. There were seven documents, his failed novels. A new blank document was added. Ten minutes had passed yet the new document is still blank. Or something like above, just don't use too much of those monotonous 'he'
Sorry. Never judge any novel by its first chapter, escpecially xuanhuan. BTW, good author should finish his/her writing whether it's good or bad.