Infodump?

[allmywires]

By which I mean I know it's an infodump, but does it work as one? Ie, not too heavy handed, impersonal, et cetera. (I'm not really looking for a full critique here but if you feel it's necessary, do by all means...):

*

Even her quiet footsteps echoed loudly in the silence, the air still and heavy, cool in the predawn. She picked her way up steps and along ledges that had crumbled away from thousands of years of winds and floods, her fingers gripping the dusty rock as tightly as she could manage. Safa had explained briefly to her the day before about the Samireans: an ancient culture that they knew hardly anything about, who worshipped the old gods fervently and built great carved temples in their honour. She crept along a crumbling stairway, her hands clammy on the walls, and swung into the doorway of one of the most ornate buildings in the valley: the Ad Azm Alla, or the Temple of All Gods.

It was very dark, and so she grabbed the matches she had brought and clambered up to the nearest brazier, stuffing it with paper and striking a light. She did the same for the next three, and the room was lit with a flickering,
eerie glow.

The floor was one huge mosaic, chipped and broken in places and filled with images of strangely formed humans and animals depicting various acts of heroism. She walked over the tiles, kneeling down to brush the dust and silt from some, though she could not decipher who they were, or what they were doing. She recognised the red wings of phoenixes, the red-and-black mushussu, and the golden plumage of the Great Eagle: the three greatest and now vanished creatures from the dark days, along with the Qaqan sea monster that terrorised the ships and the Noreien, the spirits who lifted the winds and brought the storms. Her father had given her a book on ancient mythology when she was very young – too young to appreciate it, she supposed – its pages curled and burnt from the siege of Laurentinum. She could not remember what had happened to it now; she hoped her mother had not thrown it away.

On the furthest wall was a great grid decorated with repeating pictures, traces of their original colouring only hinted at: the Samirean calendar. It was the one they still followed to that day. A year was forty-two weeks, seven times seven Sun-days; the sacred number. A week was seven days starting on the Sun-day, followed by Chun-day, Nâ-day, Kekel-day, Je-day, Ar-day and Stelia-day. Every seventh Sun-day was Gaea-day, the day of rest and festivities, and in the old days they had observed a different festival over every Gaea-day and the two days that bookmarked it. Now the Romana only observed Bonadea, the year’s end festival, and Festa deu Melia, the middle-year feast, on the third or fourth Gaea-day of each year, depending on when the towering black clouds came from the Molten Mountains.

She touched the squares, and tried to remember what day it was. They had
left Romana before the third Sun-day of the year, but how long they had been travelling was almost impossible for her to decipher. Had it been many weeks, or only a few? She did not think middle-year had come yet, and thought perhaps they were halfway past the first Gaea-day. She did not know, though, and was just turning to leave when a shape sidled up to her out of the shadows, and she nearly screamed.

[Mouse]

Fine until the bit about the days. I skimmed that. Sorry, dude. Cut it. (Gotta scoot, the dog's managed to get up the stairs!)

[springs]

On the furthest wall was a great grid decorated with repeating pictures, traces of their original colouring only hinted at: the Samirean calendar. It was the one they still followed to that day. A year was forty-two weeks, seven times seven Sun-days; the sacred number. A week was seven days starting on the Sun-day, followed by Chun-day, Nâ-day, Kekel-day, Je-day, Ar-day and Stelia-day. Every seventh Sun-day was Gaea-day, the day of rest and festivities, and in the old days they had observed a different festival over every Gaea-day and the two days that bookmarked it. Now the Romana only observed Bonadea, the year’s end festival, and Festa deu Melia, the middle-year feast, on the third or fourth Gaea-day of each year, depending on when the towering black clouds came from the Molten Mountains.

This paragraph, coming so soon after the last seemed to push it into info dump, the others not. Your balance of description is much more effective. I am wondering about the positioning of the colon here:


-and-black mushussu, and the golden plumage of the Great Eagle: the three greatest and now vanished creatures from the

but I'm not sure why, except I'm wondering is it the start of the list. Someone else, I'm sure more knowledgeable will advise, and probably say it's spot on. Good stuff.

And mouse said the same.... stop now!

[allmywires]

Ah but it's so necessary - well, I think it is. Hmm. I will find a pleasing way for it to go away. Thank ye!

[Mouse]

And I'm back. Right, I'll try to be a bit more helpful this time.

You've got about the Bonadea right at the start of your story and we're shown all about it there. Honestly, the readers don't care about what the days are called. Personally, I'd cut everything after the word 'calendar' then bring it back when she can't remember what day it is.

Is this Ezia's PoV? Would she really be thinking about names of days?

[allmywires]

I wanted to make their day-week-year structure clear because it is so different. It is Ezia, and she's thinking about days (in an extremely long-winded manner) trying to figure out how long they've been travelling.

I'm gonna need to write an accompanying book with all the rubbish that I want people to know that just clogs up the story...!

[Mouse]

Is it that the Romana days are different to the Olympians (or whoever) or that it's different to us. If us, we'll get that. It's fantasy, we'll know it's not the same. If it's different from the other cultures in your book and there's a good (possibly plot based) reason for it, then... maybe get it in somewhere else.

[springs]

You need to ask yourself what they really need at the beginning. You read mine, recently: if I said to you there was a whole 70000 words prior to what you read that I'd considered essential ( and cut based on reader feedback) - do you care about any of it? But, to me, I had to know it to write the book. So, yes, it might be essential, and the reader might need to know it, but not right now. Maybe?

Of the last cut I did, 20000 words, only 5! facts were needed to know to understand the book, the rest were a drip drip for richness.

[allmywires]

They are different from the Olympians, but now you mention it, shoehorning it into the story and explaining the fascinating intricacies (or otherwise) of these differences is a bit tedious.

edit: springs, I think it's necessary so that when they mention the days, the reader isn't going 'whaa?' But maybe it wouldn't bother people. In other words, it's in no way essential, no.

[alchemist]

(feel mildly like I'm intruding here)

Originally Posted by Mouse

Fine until the bit about the days. I skimmed that. Sorry, dude. Cut it. (Gotta scoot, the dog's managed to get up the stairs!)

This, apart from the dog.

Even if I hadn't skimmed the days, I still wouldn't remember them.

A year was forty-two weeks, seven times seven Sun-days; the sacred number. A week was seven days starting on the Sun-day, followed by Chun-day, Nâ-day, Kekel-day, Je-day, Ar-day and Stelia-day.

And I can't get the maths to add up. Apart from that, cool

[I, Brian]

It didn't work for me - the first two sentences were great - they felt like they set a scene of awe and tension, almost Lovecraftian in their sence of terrible anticipation.

And then it felt like it was interrupted by a news reader telling us casually that, oh, you know, let's talk about the Samireans.

Then back to the quiet voice of trepidation ...

News reader is back! Let's talk about the ancient Samirean calendar!

My personal feeling is that you're better stripping out the info dump from here, and putting it into more of a learning context, ie, mentioned in passing in light conversation with a mentor/techer/sage where it feels appropriate. Or else pare it down a lot more.

However, that's just my own initial reading of it ....

[HareBrain]

Originally Posted by allmywires

Even her quiet footsteps echoed loudly in the silence, the air still and heavy, cool in the predawn. She picked her way up steps and along ledges that had crumbled away from thousands of years of winds and floods, her fingers gripping the dusty rock as tightly as she could manage. Safa had explained briefly to her the day before about the Samireans: an ancient culture that they knew hardly anything about, who worshipped the old gods fervently and built great carved temples in their honour. She crept along a crumbling stairway, her hands clammy on the walls, and swung into the doorway of one of the most ornate buildings in the valley: the Ad Azm Alla, or the Temple of All Gods.

The line in red wasn't a problem for me whilst I was reading it; what was a problem was the way it turned out to have been sandwiched between two lines of action. (Like Brian said, "and now, back to the story"). If you had ended the paragraph with "honour", the impression of infodumpiness might have been reduced.

[Bowler1]

Even her quiet footsteps echoed loudly in the silence, the air still and heavy, cool in the predawn. She picked her way up steps and along ledges that had crumbled away from thousands of years of winds and floods, her fingers gripping the dusty rock as tightly as she could manage. Safa had explained briefly to her the day before about the Samireans: an ancient culture that they knew hardly anything about, who worshipped the old gods fervently and built great carved temples in their honour. She crept along a crumbling stairway, her hands clammy on the walls, and swung into the doorway of one of the most ornate buildings in the valley: the Ad Azm Alla, or the Temple of All Gods.
No emotion from the character, a little worry on the ledge, telling as well.

It was very dark, and so she grabbed the matches she had brought and clambered up to the nearest brazier, stuffing it with paper and striking a light. She did the same for the next three, and the room was lit with a flickering,
eerie glow.
The paper was handy, as was braziers etc. Too convenient and telling.

The floor was one huge mosaic, chipped and broken in places and filled with images of strangely formed humans and animals depicting various acts of heroism. She walked over the tiles, kneeling down to brush the dust and silt from some, though she could not decipher who they were, or what they were doing. She recognised the red wings of phoenixes, the red-and-black mushussu, and the golden plumage of the Great Eagle: the three greatest and now vanished creatures from the dark days, along with the Qaqan sea monster that terrorised the ships and the Noreien, the spirits who lifted the winds and brought the storms. Her father had given her a book on ancient mythology when she was very young – too young to appreciate it, she supposed – its pages curled and burnt from the siege of Laurentinum. She could not remember what had happened to it now; she hoped her mother had not thrown it away.
Too much on the book, her mother throwing it away adds very little to the plot. Some of this was nice but needs to be tighter.

On the furthest wall was a great grid decorated with repeating pictures, traces of their original colouring only hinted at: the Samirean calendar. It was the one they still followed to that day. A year was forty-two weeks, seven times seven Sun-days; the sacred number. A week was seven days starting on the Sun-day, followed by Chun-day, Nâ-day, Kekel-day, Je-day, Ar-day and Stelia-day. Every seventh Sun-day was Gaea-day, the day of rest and festivities, and in the old days they had observed a different festival over every Gaea-day and the two days that bookmarked it. Now the Romana only observed Bonadea, the year’s end festival, and Festa deu Melia, the middle-year feast, on the third or fourth Gaea-day of each year, depending on when the towering black clouds came from the Molten Mountains.
Pow, you got me right between the eyes, that was an info dump ok. As I don’t know your plot it’s for you to how much of this is needed.

She touched the squares, and tried to remember what day it was. They had
left Romana before the third Sun-day of the year, but how long they had been travelling was almost impossible for her to decipher. Had it been many weeks, or only a few? She did not think middle-year had come yet, and thought perhaps they were halfway past the first Gaea-day. She did not know, though, and was just turning to leave when a shape sidled up to her out of the shadows, and she nearly screamed.

Very little emotion from the character, no awe, amazement or general interest. Her childhood book could be used to convey her life-long interest and I think that is what you attempted but for me, in this section, you did not quite pull it off. I would describe the above as a lot of information. Like most others, I skimmed the days of the week! Sorry mate, this one didn’t work for me.

I’m jealous Mouse, I want a dog and stairs! The joy of London living, I have a flat and you can’t leave a dog in a flat, so no stairs and no dog!

[allmywires]

Thanks guys. I'll have a think about it. I can't seem to ever find the right way to infodump - everything always seems so hackneyed. Hey ho...

[Boneman]

Originally Posted by allmywires

Thanks guys. I'll have a think about it. I can't seem to ever find the right way to infodump - everything always seems so hackneyed. Hey ho...

Try, as an exercise, re-writing a section in 1st person... then re-re-write it back in 3rd person. I use it a lot when I'm infodumping and it shows the info up so much more clearly, because I'm having to put background thoughts in, and they're easier to see. That way I can (mostly!) see what's a necessary infodump, and what's erroneous.