It's finally that time again. This is my rewrite of Chapter One (Malcolm). To those who have seen the original, it is somewhat similar in structure and plotline, but much has also been changed.
This chapter rewrite has given me grief like no other project has that I can remember, and I don't even know why. After about 10 days of working, and about 8 completely different rewrites, I went back on Saturday evening, quit trying so hard, and rewrote it in about 3 1/2 hours.
I realize that if it comes across as really bad, then I've set myself up for all sorts of easy jokes. I can handle that.
Feel free to read and enjoy. But, I ask if you can: please give me a bit of feedback. It can be as short as a couple of lines (or for the fellow Twits - as little as 140), or as long as you want. Leave it here if you want, send me a DM (please don't use an @ message), or send me an email. My address is on the page. Those of you who have already given me feedback on the prologue are welcome to do so again. But anyone who reads this may feel free to do so. That said, don't feel that you must.
I thank all of you.
*One note: each of the first four chapters focuses on one main character. You will not see Horse (from the prologue) in the chapters. Sorry to the Horse fans.
Chapter One - Malcolm
Dragonfish plowed through the green and white waves of the Sea of Men, launching salt spray into the whipping wind with every crash. She was a bit smaller than most traders, her hull smooth and round-bottomed. She was laden with trade goods from Geshuan and sat low in the water. At eight knots, she was pushing her top laden speed, a fact that could not be lost on the vessel pursuing her.
On the main deck, sailors assembled ballistae along the gunwales and marines issued heavy blades and crossbows to the men. On the poop deck above, half a dozen officers readied for what was to come next. Only one man watched the preparations below. Satisfied with the crew’s speed and demeanor, he nodded and glanced up at the ribbons dangling from the rigging. The telltales pointed toward the bow; they couldn’t ask for a better wind in which to run. He turned to face his fellow officers.
To continue: http://www.writersownwords.com/washroomannex/work/230/