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ok so this one is up for opinion.I started with some fiction today and here's the first para i wrote.So please pore in your opinions and suggestions on wether i should continue or not ;p
She was old,very old. Old enough to have seen life pass her by and not remember it. On a cold winter evening she sat looking at the vast stretches of uninhabited land surrounding her. She was a prisoner of space, a slave of solitude. Even though the world around her had moved on she refused to be led by time because she wanted to be where she had always been.those 5 kms of cold dry land were everything to her. The place where she was born , the place where she wanted to die. The winds rushed past her wrinkled face as if reminding her of their cold existance and negating the warmth which any human being would feel in her presence. I walked the steps of that old monastary and saw her sitting on the bare ground with her eyes fixed on the nearby mountain as if deciphering the existance of god in its existance...
1 comment:
See Sanch, i'll tell you something very important about fiction. Its unlike Poem\prose\non-fiction in the sense that u can afford not to have a flowery language in fiction. The essential here is a modular structure to your plot and if u can manage that, you're in the fiction zone baby !
Non-fiction is completely diff. though !
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