Kisokuen'en no kenkaku - backstory section

[mygoditsraining]

Hello chaps/chapettes.

I've been working on this piece on and off while my work situation resolves itself (oh, the stress), and I thought I'd share this section from the beginning of the story, which is basically a big, silly infodump. I'm enjoying writing this story immensely, since it's so simple and direct and really it just gives me an excuse to play about with absolutely no pressure.

Still, I felt like sharing it with someone other than the missus, so here is enough to give you the idea without boring you silly. Please excuse some of the line breaks; I've tried to edit it to make it more readable on the forum's format but I've kind of rushed it and the paragraphing might feel a little odd as a result.

Let me know if you enjoy it.

Cheers.

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I’m not ready.

Shuichiro paused, the whispering sweep of his sword silenced mid-stroke. He recovered to a neutral stance and sheathed the blade. His concentration lost, he gazed up at the last sliver of sun left above the horizon, and the purple-pink wash it cast in the sky. From his vantage point on the hill, Shuichiro saw the sunset across a patchwork terrace of rice fields, and he savoured the envious image of being a farmer stood in one of them, knee deep in water and mud, surrounded by the sky caught in the pool’s rippling mirror.

He sighed, a long, heavy breath, and turned to make his way back to his grandfather’s house. Another day’s search had ended.


Saitō Takumi had been released from his clan’s service due to the effects of chronic illness. Although his condition meant he had never been capable of building his stamina past a certain point, he had been a keen swordsman in his youth and, as he matured, remained an ardent supporter of his clan.

Honesty and ambition were not a good combination, and as Takumi became involved politically, he raised his head too far for a rival’s liking. Knowing of his weakness, his rival arranged that Takumi be dispatched with an urgent message for their clan chief, and that he deliver it at haste. It was almost his undoing.

He had staggered into the presence of his lord, each breath buzzing low in his throat, and was unable to stand once he had prostrated himself to present the sealed message. The missive had turned out to be nothing more than the news that a store of mats had rotted in the damp, and an estimate of the cost of their replacements. Takumi survived, but was ill for many days afterwards.

The clan chief was impressed by his vassal’s selflessness, but frustrated by the man’s poor condition and the machinations that had almost led to his death. With no position at hand that would suit him, his lord was forced to make one up that would place him out of harm’s way and Takumi was sent to the periphery of the clan’s holdings to repair and maintain a small temple there. Ten years passed before Takumi could face the truth and accept that his lord no longer needed him; he spent another ten in contemplation before he was sent Shuichiro.

That Shuichiro was not his grandson was apparent from the beginning. It was laid out plainly to Takumi by the stone-faced woman who bore the message from his lord that the fact was immaterial. The boy’s father had grown up with the same illness as Takumi, had shown skill with a blade much like the old retainer -- these concurrences were enough to bring the caretaker of an almost-forgotten temple back to the minds of those who wanted to clear up a messy situation. Shuichiro’s father had brought a great shame upon the clan, it seemed, although Takumi could glean no further information from the woman, and the boy was too young to comprehend the turn of events. Instead of taking his own life to wash away the dishonour, the father had disappeared, leaving behind the son and a wife too distracted by thoughts of her own reputation to take care of him. Takumi did not question the messenger further, but mourned that the clan had fallen so far as to have to endure such scandals. He accepted the documents that designated him as the boy’s only living relative, took note of the Imperial seal and all the finality that it implied, and sent the messenger on her way.

By sunset on the following day, he had bartered enough cloth to make clothes for the boy and had cropped his hair to match his own.

Fifteen years passed, and Takumi had wondered time and again what the shame was that Shuichiro’s father had brought down upon the clan. He had been worried that, in spite of what he tried to teach the boy, the father’s nature would reveal itself in the son and that the boy would become wilful or difficult. Instead, Shuichiro grew into a man that Takumi was proud to call his grandson. Although not tall, the boy was handsome and lithe, and turned his hand easily to the many tasks that Takumi set him. When Takumi had first given him a sword to hold, it seemed as if the boy had been born waiting to grasp it. Here, Takumi had realised as the boy practised stance, stroke and movement, was what brought his father to dishonour. In the swirling circles of the clan court, no natural skill such as this would have gone unnoticed, or, for good or for ill, unused.

As rapidly as Shuichiro grew in skill and experience, however, there was no mistaking the signs of another legacy, something else that Takumi had feared would come to pass. The son had inherited the father’s illness; the same one that Takumi carried in his breast. Shuichiro could not run far, or exert himself for long periods without a desperate wheeze building in his chest and throat. In the summer, he would cautiously avoid any action that raised dust into the air, and was unable to walk freely amongst the flowering plants, as pollen or powders on the air would similarly see him struggling to breathe.

Takumi, from long experience of the same symptoms, tasked the boy with breathing and physical exercises that had he had found effective in building his endurance and lessening the effects. In his lessons with the sword, Shuichiro was taught to focus on economy and precision, and to use both to create decisive, bold strokes that would finish fights quickly. Both strategies, Takumi knew, would not cure Shuichiro, but he was determined to see his grandson’s limits set as far apart as he could make them.

The twenty years that Takumi had spent in solitude had felt like nothing more than time spent waiting, and he had never been able to give himself fully to the life of a monk. When Shuichiro had arrived the feeling had been lifted from him, as if after all this time his destiny had been revealed; to see his grandson prepared, and set on a path towards a destiny of his own.

Now, Takumi knew, it was time to let Shuichiro go. He smiled to himself, seeing in his mind’s eye for a moment the world as a giant scroll being endlessly written, and the section of his own tale being cast to one side to allow a blank space to be drawn out and laid flat. Had the boy not been sent to him, it would have been a sad image, he knew. Takumi leaned forward to stir the rice in its cast-iron pot and settled back again, waiting for his grandson to come home.

[Boneman]

Hi MGIR,
do you suppose there is a search engine that reads your work, and assigns it the best advert above your entry? Throat cancer and kennel cough are listed...... nothing on Asthma, so it's not that good, but it does make you wonder.

I fear some will tell you that your omsicient narrator is fighting with the pov of Takumi, but I found myself reading it for the sheer pleasure of it, and at the end of it I had not been annoyed, distracted, upset, by the telling of your 'infodump'.

I will let others do the nitpicking. I just read it again, and I still enjoyed it. I'm hooked and want to know more. Could it be better? Of course, what writing cannot be improved? But as a story, per se, I think it's a great opening, and it's the story-telling that counts..........

I'll look back in and see what others make of it, and then maybe add a little more. Good job.

[Edit addition] Blimey, I come out after writing this to find they've added an advert on cat asthma! Big brother is watching us........

[Saeltari]

Originally Posted by mygoditsraining

-------------------
. . . From his vantage point on the hill, Shuichiro saw the sunset across a patchwork terrace of rice fields, and he savoured the envious image of being a farmer stood in one of them, knee deep in water and mud, surrounded by the sky caught in the pool’s rippling mirror. . . .

I didn't get the above which I didn't understand, couldn't grasp the image, savored the envious image of being a farmer stood in one of them... he stood in a farmer?

Other than that, it was interesting and I enjoyed it.

[mygoditsraining]

D'oh, missed a verb when changing tense in an edit.

"he savoured the envious image of a farmer standing in one of them, knee deep in water and mud, surrounded by the sky caught in the pool’s rippling mirror."

or something like that. I think my innate Scots argot prevented me from spotting that as I've just been reliably informed that I use "stood" in the present tense more often than I think.

[ctg]

MyGodItsRaining, I don't know if you want to hear what I have to say because it might hurt your feelings and I really don't want to do that, but there's something wrong with you info dump as it makes me want to go to sleep. If you want to lessen the effect then you should rewrite it in the same style as you do with first two paras. Make it flow and connect together those two POV's. Use the sunset for the switch. Let the boys POV end there, little bit narrative and move to grandfather's POV. At there, use Takusi's thoughts and memories (flashback) to tell your infodump.

[HareBrain]

I enjoyed it, mostly, though I found it a bit "dry" and my attention was struggling a bit towards the end. Perhaps a few scraps of dialogue here and there would fix this. But it is very well-written, and I have no nits to pick. I wonder though if it wouldn't be improved by removing the first three paras? (Before "Saito"). You introduce Suichiro only to then switch POV (though this isn't immediately clear) and introduce a long "flashback" about Saito, but since you're going for an unconventional storytelling mode anyway, why not just start with Saito's history? (I was also confused about who Saito was at first; if you're going to keep the first three paras in I would make it immediately clear that Saito is the "grandfather" already referred to.)

Edit: I ought to add that it has a strong sense of place (to this westerner) both in its style and detail, and was never less than interesting.

[Nik]

IMHO, it is good. Couple of minor tweaks, some tense corrections, adjust the pacing...

If I've understood it, you're after a 'period style'. For example, I once managed to turn out a Victorian pastiche that amused everyone but an expert-- And delighted her by the care I'd taken to, um, not over-egg the pudding...

What I've read of the period you've chosen suggested it was, indeed, slow-paced between bloody battles. IMHO, you're close.

[Precision Grace]

Yawn.

Sorry.

This is what happens when you write for yourself rather than an audience.

There is no point in writing well if you can't be arsed to engage the reader; and I say this because you obviously can write extremely well, but this time you wrote for yourself, which is fine, but as a reader, I can't get involved. You were right. It's an info dump.

[mygoditsraining]

Originally Posted by Precision Grace

This is what happens when you write for yourself rather than an audience.

This is an interesting discussion point: why write if not for yourself? The reality the majority of us has to face is that we will never, ever, ever see any of our stuff being published (lulu notwithstanding) and, I must say, writing something that was intended to serve a demographic would seem a little...soulless?

Granted there is an ideal situation where you are both able to switch yourself AND others on, where the two conditions become coincident upon the same arc, but attempting the second by compromising the first would really just make me one of those time-lost monkeys we came up with.

As a follow-up point, to reiterate, I've never liked the concept of "tropes", particularly those of the "THOU SHALT NOT" school of thinking. What I love about writing is that, to borrow another artistic school's terminology; in painting a scene, or a story, or a character, I don't have to stick to sharp, kinetic jabs of my brush that focus on expressing action, but instead I can take a broad head and sweep it across the canvas to impress, briefly, the swell of history that precedes the scene.

I may well need much more practice, but I point blank refuse to believe that, as a writer, I should sacrifice a set of tools that could be cleaned up, freshly headed, and with careful application yield a palette of rich prose for the sake of the most profitable fashion.


tl:dr version: I'd rather write something that made me happy than Twilight.*


*saying that, Edward is the only one who understands me. /hug Twilight poster.

[Precision Grace]

Ah no, that's not how I meant it. What I meant is that sometimes we write to explain things to ourselves (which is what I think you've done here) and because the entirety of the story is in your head and you know how it all fits together and matters, it's great and good fun.

But you obviously DO want to write for others, otherwise you wouldn't have put up this for comment and asked if we enjoyed it. And my contention is that it's a bit hard to enjoy something that someone is done without care about how we would go about enjoying it. You said it yourself that it's an infodump so you must be aware that there is a possibility that the segment won't sound as beguiling to others eyes as it seemed in your head!

Heh, you don't have to convince me of the need and want to write for oneself and the tiny little hope that whatever turns up will somehow be understood and enjoyed by others. 'xcept, others seldom share our brains (although I understand it does happen on occasion) and have to be told things that we take for granted and in a way that we, the writer, perhaps can do without, because it's our story and we love it and we understand what stuff means and how. But anyway...'s just my opinion innit.

[adyc]

Hi MGRI,
I'm new to this but baring in mind that it is an 'info dump' I really enjoyed it as a 'bones to be fleshed out' idea. I think it shows great promise and I look forward to reading more. As far as technical criticism goes, I don't think I am in any position to judge. It's been far too long (that I care to remember)since I did my English exams. But I know a good story line when I see one.
I also agree that you need to write for yourself, otherwise there really is no point in doing it....beats working for a living.

Keep up the good work.

AdyC