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J Hill

Diversion 2-Every Knoll Needs A Ditch

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A Complete Study on the Design And Construction of Culverts in America

chapter two

IN THE VILLAGE OF NUHAM

On the dim and shoddy wings of the Grand Rorrim Theater in the Village of Nuham, the Actor, who's name changed with his role, and didn't matter anyway, sat reflectively while begging his inner-narrator for wisdom. The murmuring expectation of the crowd. The swinging, clanking and spinning noises produced by the intricate mechanisms of the stage. The muffled so-called music from the pit. All these were set aside, ignored as he listened only for that soundless monotone within himself. Some commentary from the higher awareness. It had on occasion, after all, provided him seemingly true guidance. But not recently. And certainly not now, as his subconscious voice praddled on and on a running account of the days minutiae. He cursed it's incessant and yet invisible, omniscience. And yearned just for that inner-reason to provide, in a silent whisper, simple wisdom pertaining to his true nature. Answers he knew must exist that somehow he had just missed while distracted. Reasons that every moment escaped, perplexed and tormented. Yet all the stoic-sounding but stupid announcer inside his head had were platitudes. Bromides to lead him only dumbly in circles. Leaving him irritated and impatiently waiting for the cue. Sitting just off stage on a small chair, a foul cigar smoldering between the yellowed fingers of his left hand. The ash gathering in a small filthy pile near his oversized, cloddish stage shoe. Lost in thought, the Actor appeared poised and intently ready, as if his cue was but a moment away, while the part was still several scenes off. With an inner-ear focused on his mind's busy sountrack, outer-ear disregarding into nothingness any sound but that call to the stage. Then, and only then, would he again, slavishly, for this theatre, become what it desired of him. Not a moment before. And, yes, it was all he really lived for, but when that call did come he cringed with distracted annoyance, while rising with resignation. He dropped and snuffed the cigar, and rushed on-stage to the wild laughter of the audience in an outlandishly silly costume, taking this, not insignificant, turn in a ridiculous, second-rate, forth-run, slapstick, satire.

tbc

poet#9

Edited by Guest
words

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Some suggested alterations, either using bold type or strikes to illustrate changes made, or quoting excerpts where there have been more significant changes to the structure of a whole passage. Attempted to stay as true to the original text as possible.

*********************************************

On the dim and shoddy wings of the Grand Rorrim Theater in the Village of Nuham, the Actor, whose name changed with his role, (and didn't matter anyway), sat reflectively, while begging his inner-narrator for wisdom. The murmuring expectation of the crowd. The swinging, clanking and spinning noises produced by the intricate mechanisms of the stage. The muffled so-called music from the pit. All of these were set aside, ignored, as he listened only for that soundless monotone within himself; some commentary from the higher awareness. After all, it had, on occasion, provided him seemingly true guidance. But not recently. And certainly not now, as his subconscious voice praddled on and on a running account of the days minutiae. He cursed it's incessant, and yet invisible omniscience. And yearned just only for that inner-reason to provide, in a silent whisper, simple wisdom pertaining to his true nature; answers he knew must exist, that somehow he had just missed while distracted. Reasons that every moment escaped, perplexed and tormented.

Yet all the stoic-sounding but stupid announcer inside his head had were platitudes. Bromides to lead him only dumbly in circles.

Suggest: "The announcer in his head, stoic-sounding but stupid, offered only platitudes; bromides to lead him dumbly in circles."

Leaving him irritated and impatiently waiting for the cue. Sitting just off stage on a small chair, a foul cigar smoldering between the yellowed fingers of his left hand. The ash gathering in a small filthy pile near his oversized, cloddish stage shoe. Lost in thought, the Actor appeared poised and intently ready, as if his cue was but a moment away, while the part was still several scenes off. With an inner-ear focused on his mind's busy sountrack, outer-ear disregarding into nothingness any sound but that call to the stage.

Then, and only then, would he again, slavishly, for this theatre, become what it desired of him.

Suggest: Then, and only then, would he slavishly become what this theatre desired of him.

Not a moment before. And, yes, it was all he really lived for, but when that call did come, he cringed with distracted annoyance, while rising with resignation.

He dropped and snuffed the cigar, and rushed on-stage to the wild laughter of the audience in an outlandishly silly costume, taking this, not insignificant, turn in a ridiculous, second-rate, forth-run, slapstick, satire.

Suggest: "He dropped and snuffed the cigar and rushed onstage in an outlandishly silly costume, to the wild laughter of the audience, to take his not insignificant turn in this ridiculous, second-rate, slapstick satire."

(Minor change in sentence structure, one fewer adjective, fewer commas; makes quite a difference to me.)

Tip: when using multiple adjectives, you don't need a comma between the last adjective and the noun.

**********************************************

These are relatively minor changes, which remain faithful to the narrative, but which help to iron out some of the wrinkles in your writing style, (I think). Forgive me, if I appear presumptuous.

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So J Hill. I've been reading each installment as you've provided them. At first they were puzzling, but have become more clear with each one, and I'm enjoying the series now that links are becoming clear. I've thought the same things that b-f has pointed out to you, but wouldn't have known how to explain clearly. b-f has done a good job.

The edits that b-f has made here help to make the piece flow, and make it easier for the reader. That was the biggest thing I could have said. It was too much work for the reader (me) to get through some of the cumbersome explanations and grammar to make reading the pieces enjoyable. Keep it up J!

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BF, again I am in your debt! Consider the section revised. Thank you for taking the time, that most precious and finite of personal resources. And for the awareness you unveiled. I hope to make good use of both.

___________ :D:D:D ___________

& @ Lucky: Thank you for reading (and sticking with it)Stay tuned :cool:

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I won't pretend to be sophisticated enough to understand your writing, but I do know a good sentence when I read one, and you have a gift with words.

It's also great that you are so open to constructive critique, because B-F really knows his way around a paragraph, and it's a wise person who takes heed. :)

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