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DOGGONE VOICE EXT: NIRVANA, INC.

Friday, 29 June 2012  |  Posted by Brenda Drake

 

Title: NIRVANA, INC.
Genre: Biopunk
If only her landlord didn’t have something crawl up his ass to make him raise her rent by a hundred creds, she would have already met her quota for the week. Rayn didn’t like staying at any rathskeller for this long. Shit, she didn’t like having to set one foot in the bitch in the first place.
A SnowAngel junkie walked in, multiple injector marks flashing on her collarbone. Rayn was always weary of the ones who weren’t somewhat scared. No one dared walk in the middle of Main Way with their vice exposed like that, unless you were a fool or had a death wish.
The bar drone nodded in her direction. A man slid off a vinyl stool and walked towards her. The flashing lights flickered on his face as he crossed the dance floor, his motion blinking in and out, making him look like an automate.
He is a newb, Rayn thought as he sat across from her table, his eyes looking at anything but her.
“How much?” His manicured fingers rubbed his thighs in a manic back and forth on his cheap polyester pants. He wore the style of the slums but his clothes were new, betraying the fact he wasn’t a ghetto boy.
“One hundred.” She caught his fleeing eyes and cocked an innocent smile. She knew just how much to shake down the rich kids looking for a thrill. Her painted fingernails strummed against the seat next to her.
He smelled of tabajuana, sweet and musky, mixed with the fresh sting of the peppermint leaf he was nibbling on.

Filed: Misc, Workshops

5 Comments
  • Leigh Ann says:

    Yay! Slang, unknown words, and cussing!

    I like cussing as much as the next person, but even I might think about eliminating one or two from that first paragraph (I’m counting “bitch.”) I think that if you have too much, it sounds like you’re trying too hard, and has the opposite of desired effect.

    You did a great job of incorporating the slang and unknown words in context, so even though I don’t know what they mean, the give us the promise of worldbuilding and contribute to the voice at the same time.

    Nitpick: You don’t have to say “Rayn thought.” I think those thought tags pull me out of voice more often than not, but my other readers can say what they think.

    Really nice work! Sounds great.

  • Marieke says:

    Ooh, biopunk! YES!

    First of all, I agree with Leigh Ann’s comment about the “thought” tag.

    I think this is well done. I would caution against using too much slang off the bat, because it might get a little overwhelming, but I fully trust you’ll explain what the reader needs to know when the reader needs to know it.

    I think the voice is strong too. Rayn is an intriguing MC and the details you give are enough to create a vivid and engrossing world. Awesome 🙂

  • callmebecks says:

    There’s already great atmosphere in this opening page – the kind of imagery and intrigue that would definitely keep me reading. I just think it needs some tightening.

    IN-LINE CRITS

    If only her landlord didn’t have something crawl up his ass to make him raise her rent by a hundred creds, she would have already met her quota for the week. (I like the hints at strong voice in this, but in my opinion, it’s a bit overworded. I think there’s a shorter way to convey this information that would give it more punch.) Rayn didn’t like staying at any rathskeller for this long. Shit, she didn’t like having to set one foot in the bitch in the first place.

    A SnowAngel junkie walked in, multiple injector marks flashing on her collarbone. Rayn was always weary of the ones who weren’t somewhat scared. No one dared walk in the middle of Main Way with their vice exposed like that, unless you were a fool or had a death wish. (The details in this paragraph are very cool, but I don’t know that here is the place for this paragraph. Unless it’s crucial very soon in the chapter, I’d move the information elsewhere because it’s a distracting aside from an already compelling scene.)

    The bar drone nodded in her direction. A man slid off a vinyl stool and walked towards her. The flashing lights flickered on his face as he crossed the dance floor, his motion blinking in and out, making him look like an automate. (I’d cut the last part of this sentence. I think the imagery is strong on its own.)

    He is a newb, Rayn thought as he sat across from her table, his eyes looking at anything but her.

    “How much?” His manicured fingers rubbed his thighs in a manic back and forth on his cheap polyester pants. He wore the style of the slums but his clothes were new, betraying the fact (I don’t think you need this. I’d suggest putting a period after “new” and just making this last part its own sentence.) he wasn’t a ghetto boy.

    “One hundred.” She caught his fleeing eyes and cocked an innocent smile. (A little too much. I’d suggest cutting the part about catching his fleeing eyes and leaving the part about the smile.) She knew just how much to shake down the rich kids looking for a thrill. Her painted fingernails strummed against the seat next to her.

    He smelled of tabajuana, sweet and musky, mixed with the fresh sting of the peppermint leaf he was nibbling on.

  • Stephanie S. says:

    My rewrite:

    Rayn didn’t like staying at any rathskeller for this long. Shit, she didn’t like having to set one foot in it in the first place. Whatever crawled up her landlord’s ass made him raise her rent by a hundred creds, which meant another three transactions to meet her quota for the week.

    A SnowAngel junkie walked in, multiple injector marks flashing on her collarbone. Rayn was always weary of the ones who weren’t somewhat scared. No one dared walk in the middle of Main Way with their vice exposed like that, unless you were a fool or had a death wish.

    The bar drone nodded in her direction. A man slid off a vinyl stool and walked towards her. The flashing lights flickered on his face as he crossed the dance floor, his motion blinking in and out.

    He is a newb.

    He sat across from her table, his eyes looking at anything but her. “How much?” His manicured fingers rubbed his thighs in a manic back and forth on his cheap polyester pants. He wore the style of the slums but his clothes were new. He wasn’t a ghetto boy.

    “One hundred.” She cocked an innocent smile. She knew just how much to shake down the rich kids looking for a thrill. Her painted fingernails strummed against the seat next to her.

    He smelled of tabajuana, sweet and musky, mixed with the fresh sting of the peppermint leaf he was nibbling on.

    She pulled her shirt down, uncovering the credbank under her collarbone.

  • Brenda Drake says:

    This is so cool. Love the voice and the premise. Excellent revision.

    A few things…

    I’d change “Rayn didn’t like staying…” to “Rayn hated staying…”

    And “He is a newb.” pulls me out of tense. I’d change it to “He was a newb”, “What a newb.”, “Such a newb.” or just “A newb.” Whatever works for your voice.

    Great job!

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