Book?

[VictoryinJesus]

Hey, this is in no way to sell a book but to ask for feedback if anyone is interested. I didn't know where to put this. I think it belongs under "General discussions", but I have insufficient privileges to post there. Why ask for feedback? Because no matter how hard I try as a writer, I feel like what I am trying to say could be more developed. If you know me well enough on the board, you may know I struggle with getting a point across. I struggle with making sense. If anyone here is a writer or reader, Christian or not...I welcome feedback if you are interested. Warning. It is a weird story that falls somewhere between a thriller and a physiological suspense. You may hate it. But I appreciate that feedback as well. If you are interested in receiving a copy PM your email and I'll send a word doc. I apologize for asking this here, but I've made friends here over the years and felt here...with others with varying perspectives could be helpful insight. Here is the synopsis. I'm not expecting or wanting a discussion here on this thread or in PM over the story. What I am hoping for is, if you do read it and want to add what comes to mind in the document (please highlight what you added so I can see it) as feedback.



Rufus Keller was a religious extremist. A kook if you asked me. I didn’t know what a religious extremist was beforehand, until I met Rufus Keller’s daughter, years after his demise. I say "demise" because his fall came way after the year of his death. His real demise came the day his house fell. He was extreme in every sense of the word: Extreme hatred. Extreme punishment. Extreme lies. Extreme beliefs where Reverend Keller believed he was the ultimate judge of all, even the judge of his own daughter.

Yet, the Reverend was also in extreme denial about himself.

How can a person become caged, imprisoned, shackled by their own overbearing opinions and beliefs that they destroy those they claim to love? Yet, at the same time be blind to what their extreme hatred gives birth to. I still don’t have the answer to these questions.

But who am I to judge?

Reverend Keller and I have something in common. I also built my own cage, my own prison which kept me paralyzed by my own fears that tormented me. A fear of not fitting in. A fear of not being good enough. A fear of dogs. A fear of death. A fear of being judged. A fear of losing those close to me, including my little sister Evie. My little sister the only thing that kept me fighting to survive out there on the Reverends farm.

Until I was caged. My up-close experience with what being caged by fear can do to a person. Where what I feared the most was the destruction of the little girl inside of me which I tried to protect from being destroyed. This all happened to me many years ago, but the indoctrination of Grace left its mark on me. Although no one can tell the story of the Reverend’s daughter better than his own daughter. Without even being aware of what she was doing at the time—Old man Keller’s daughter passed her story on to us in the most despicable way; by our reliving it. Along with her beast she called King. And I passed on the story to the one the Reverend would have hated the most— “A pagan”

An atheist 'head doctor" who told me to not feel guilty for empathy. An atheist who reminded me that to have mercy on someone is not weak and doesn’t fall under Stockholm syndrome. Maybe it was a small bit of defiance on my part, whom I chose to open up to about what happened out at The Kellers ’rotting house hidden within the dark edges of the woods.
Yet this is the question that has haunted me for years. What happens to those not of a sound mind, being mentally sick, who are incapable of understanding their own actions—what happens when they go to trial before the Judge to be judged? Who receives the greater punishment...the tormentor or the tormented?

Did I do the right thing?

 

[Cassandra]

I'm probably not a good person to participate in reading your book because I usually go through what the person in the book does, in my imagination.
But I will tell you this.
What you wrote above is fantastic. You are an excellent writer. I was sucked into the story from the get go. The picture is painted. As soon as the reader gets comfortable with the situation, you add something else

A fear of losing those close to me, including my little sister Evie. My little sister the only thing that kept me fighting to survive out there on the Reverends farm.

Until I was caged. My up-close experience with what being caged by fear can do to a person.

And this (after the fear of dogs)

Along with her beast she called King.

And the last part of you post:

Yet this is the question that has haunted me for years. What happens to those not of a sound mind, being mentally sick, who are incapable of understanding their own actions—what happens when they go to trial before the Judge to be judged? Who receives the greater punishment...the tormentor or the tormented?

Did I do the right thing?

I DON'T KNOW BUT MAYBE I'LL LOOK--MAYBE

I am so tempted to sign up. Your book, if it is written throughout the way you wrote the above, I don't know how anyone could put it down. And I mean that.

 

[VictoryinJesus]

I'm probably not a good person to participate in reading your book because I usually go through what the person in the book does, in my imagination.
But I will tell you this.
What you wrote above is fantastic. You are an excellent writer. I was sucked into the story from the get go. The picture is painted. As soon as the reader gets comfortable with the situation, you add something else

And this (after the fear of dogs)


And the last part of you post:


I DON'T KNOW BUT MAYBE I'LL LOOK--MAYBE

I am so tempted to sign up. Your book, if it is written throughout the way you wrote the above, I don't know how anyone could put it down. And I mean that.

Thank you. You have already helped. I’m worried it’s not written the same throughout. I fear you would end up disappointed. The story is told from a younger perspective to stay with her character as it happened. This limited the voice I think. I can’t figure out how I can tell of something that happened to her when she was younger and stay in the head of a youth, and at the same time include insight that comes with age. If that makes sense. I wish I could do it through dialogue and growth of showing not telling, but I’ve struggle with it. Again, thank you for your input. You have given me something to think about.

 

[VictoryinJesus]

I'm probably not a good person to participate in reading your book because I usually go through what the person in the book does, in my imagination.
But I will tell you this.
What you wrote above is fantastic. You are an excellent writer. I was sucked into the story from the get go. The picture is painted. As soon as the reader gets comfortable with the situation, you add something else

And this (after the fear of dogs)


And the last part of you post:


I DON'T KNOW BUT MAYBE I'LL LOOK--MAYBE

I am so tempted to sign up. Your book, if it is written throughout the way you wrote the above, I don't know how anyone could put it down. And I mean that.

See, you helped. I’m thinking it would be beneficial to go through and highlight things I wanted to tell and see if I can show it instead.

 

[The Learner]

There's a book?

 

[VictoryinJesus]

There's a book?

Yes. I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.

 

[Mr E]

Hey, this is in no way to sell a book but to ask for feedback if anyone is interested. I didn't know where to put this. I think it belongs under "General discussions", but I have insufficient privileges to post there. Why ask for feedback? Because no matter how hard I try as a writer, I feel like what I am trying to say could be more developed. If you know me well enough on the board, you may know I struggle with getting a point across. I struggle with making sense. If anyone here is a writer or reader, Christian or not...I welcome feedback if you are interested. Warning. It is a weird story that falls somewhere between a thriller and a physiological suspense. You may hate it. But I appreciate that feedback as well. If you are interested in receiving a copy PM your email and I'll send a word doc. I apologize for asking this here, but I've made friends here over the years and felt here...with others with varying perspectives could be helpful insight. Here is the synopsis. I'm not expecting or wanting a discussion here on this thread or in PM over the story. What I am hoping for is, if you do read it and want to add what comes to mind in the document (please highlight what you added so I can see it) as feedback.



Rufus Keller was a religious extremist. A kook if you asked me. I didn’t know what a religious extremist was beforehand, until I met Rufus Keller’s daughter, years after his demise. I say "demise" because his fall came way after the year of his death. His real demise came the day his house fell. He was extreme in every sense of the word: Extreme hatred. Extreme punishment. Extreme lies. Extreme beliefs where Reverend Keller believed he was the ultimate judge of all, even the judge of his own daughter.

Yet, the Reverend was also in extreme denial about himself.

How can a person become caged, imprisoned, shackled by their own overbearing opinions and beliefs that they destroy those they claim to love? Yet, at the same time be blind to what their extreme hatred gives birth to. I still don’t have the answer to these questions.

But who am I to judge?

Reverend Keller and I have something in common. I also built my own cage, my own prison which kept me paralyzed by my own fears that tormented me. A fear of not fitting in. A fear of not being good enough. A fear of dogs. A fear of death. A fear of being judged. A fear of losing those close to me, including my little sister Evie. My little sister the only thing that kept me fighting to survive out there on the Reverends farm.

Until I was caged. My up-close experience with what being caged by fear can do to a person. Where what I feared the most was the destruction of the little girl inside of me which I tried to protect from being destroyed. This all happened to me many years ago, but the indoctrination of Grace left its mark on me. Although no one can tell the story of the Reverend’s daughter better than his own daughter. Without even being aware of what she was doing at the time—Old man Keller’s daughter passed her story on to us in the most despicable way; by our reliving it. Along with her beast she called King. And I passed on the story to the one the Reverend would have hated the most— “A pagan”

An atheist 'head doctor" who told me to not feel guilty for empathy. An atheist who reminded me that to have mercy on someone is not weak and doesn’t fall under Stockholm syndrome. Maybe it was a small bit of defiance on my part, whom I chose to open up to about what happened out at The Kellers ’rotting house hidden within the dark edges of the woods.
Yet this is the question that has haunted me for years. What happens to those not of a sound mind, being mentally sick, who are incapable of understanding their own actions—what happens when they go to trial before the Judge to be judged? Who receives the greater punishment...the tormentor or the tormented?

Did I do the right thing?

Bravely told. Thank you for sharing your story.

Your baby is beautiful.

 

[Mr E]

Work it girl.

Make that twisted Reverend come to life.

 

[Mr E]

So Jesus told them this parable:

“Which one of you, if he has a hundred sheep and loses one of them, would not leave the ninety-nine in the open pasture and go look for the one that is lost until he finds it? Then when he has found it, he places it on his shoulders, rejoicing. Returning home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, telling them, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my sheep that was lost.’ I tell you, in the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need to repent.


All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken.

 

[VictoryinJesus]

So Jesus told them this parable:

“Which one of you, if he has a hundred sheep and loses one of them, would not leave the ninety-nine in the open pasture and go look for the one that is lost until he finds it? Then when he has found it, he places it on his shoulders, rejoicing. Returning home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, telling them, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my sheep that was lost.’ I tell you, in the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need to repent.


All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken.

I can see it. Thank you!

 

[ScottA]

Rufus Keller was a religious extremist. A kook if you asked me. I didn’t know what a religious extremist was beforehand, until I met Rufus Keller’s daughter, years after his demise. I say "demise" because his fall came way after the year of his death. His real demise came the day his house fell. He was extreme in every sense of the word: Extreme hatred. Extreme punishment. Extreme lies. Extreme beliefs where Reverend Keller believed he was the ultimate judge of all, even the judge of his own daughter.

Too much, and not enough, lacks flow. A better example, might be:

Reverend Rufus Keller was an extremist. A real kook. I had no idea until years after his death when, by chance, I met his daughter. She spoke of the hatred of her father, though she didn't really need to, for it lingered in her eyes and in the way she moved her hands when she spoke of him. She spoke of his lies. This one I will never forget:​

​

A young Ms. Keller, at the tender age of six, played in the front yard. Her father had just returned home from working at the church, his church...​

​

Keep writing!

 

[VictoryinJesus]

Too much, and not enough, lacks flow. A better example, might be:

Reverend Rufus Keller was an extremist. A real kook. I had no idea until years after his death when, by chance, I met his daughter. She spoke of the hatred of her father, though she didn't really need to, for it lingered in her eyes and in the way she moved her hands when she spoke of him. She spoke of his lies. This one I will never forget:​

​

A young Ms. Keller, at the tender age of six, played in the front yard. Her father had just returned home from working at the church, his church...​

​

Keep writing!

Thank you for your input.

 

[The Learner]

Too much, and not enough, lacks flow. A better example, might be:

Reverend Rufus Keller was an extremist. A real kook. I had no idea until years after his death when, by chance, I met his daughter. She spoke of the hatred of her father, though she didn't really need to, for it lingered in her eyes and in the way she moved her hands when she spoke of him. She spoke of his lies. This one I will never forget:​

​

A young Ms. Keller, at the tender age of six, played in the front yard. Her father had just returned home from working at the church, his church...​

​

Keep writing!

Thank You Brother, friend
Daniel

 

[O'Darby]

Having written and edited as my career for more than 40 years, I can tell you that asking someone to review your work is asking a great deal. Editing is an exhausting task. In legal matters, I used to tell other lawyers "Just tell me what you want. Writing it from scratch is easier than trying to edit your stuff."

That being said, I took 15 minutes and quickly went through your sample. I did what I always do - first look for ways to eliminate excess verbiage and tighten it up. I then try to clarify parts that aren't clear to me and take a stab at what I think you're trying to say. What ScottA has done is essentially rewrite your story, which certainly livens it up but is not typically what an editor does. I understood from your sample that you were going for a bit of mystery at the start and hoping the reader would want to go deeper.

Here ya go, FWIW:

Reverend Rufus Keller was a religious extremist. A kook if you asked me. I didn’t know what a religious extremist was until I met his daughter years after his demise. I say "demise" because his downfall came long after his death. His real demise came the day his house fell.​

​

The Reverend was extreme in every sense of the word: Extreme hatred. Extreme punishment. Extreme lies. Extreme beliefs. He believed he was the ultimate judge of all, even his own daughter.​

​

Yet the Reverend was also in extreme denial about himself.​

​

How can a person become so imprisoned and shackled by their own overbearing opinions and beliefs that they destroy those they claim to love - and yet be so blind to what their extreme hatred gives birth? I still don’t have answers to these questions.​

​

But who am I to judge?​

​

Reverend Keller and I have something in common. I also built my own prison, one that kept me paralyzed by my own fears that tormented me. A fear of not fitting in. A fear of not being good enough. A fear of dogs. A fear of death. A fear of being judged. A fear of losing those close to me, including my little sister Evie. My little sister - the only thing that kept me fighting to survive out there on the Reverend’s farm.​

​

What I feared most was the destruction of the little girl inside of me.​

​

Although this all happened to me many years ago, the indoctrination into the Reverend’s nightmare world has left its mark. Without even being aware of what she was doing, his daughter passed her story on to us in the most ghastly way: by making us relive it. And I passed on the story to someone the Reverend would have hated perhaps the most – a “pagan.”​

​

A pagan? Yes, but no mere pagan: An atheist “head doctor” who told me not to feel guilty for the empathy I felt. An atheist who reminded me that to have empathy and mercy wasn’t weak and didn’t mean I’d fallen prey to the Stockholm syndrome. Maybe it was a bit of defiance on my part when I chose to open up to him about what had happened at the Kellers’ rotting house at the dark edge of the woods.​

​

Yet this question still haunts me: What happens to those not of sound mind, who are mentally sick, incapable of understanding their own actions - what happens when they stand before the Ultimate Judge? Who receives the greater punishment ... the tormentor or the tormented?​

​

Even more than this, perhaps, I ask myself: Did I do the right thing?​

​

The word "defiance" loses me - what was defiant about opening up to the atheist?

 

[VictoryinJesus]

Having written and edited as my career for more than 40 years, I can tell you that asking someone to review your work is asking a great deal. Editing is an exhausting task. In legal matters, I used to tell other lawyers "Just tell me what you want. Writing it from scratch is easier than trying to edit your stuff."

That being said, I took 15 minutes and quickly went through your sample. I did what I always do - first look for ways to eliminate excess verbiage and tighten it up. I then try to clarify parts that aren't clear to me and take a stab at what I think you're trying to say. What ScottA has done is essentially rewrite your story, which certainly livens it up but is not typically what an editor does. I understood from your sample that you were going for a bit of mystery at the start and hoping the reader would want to go deeper.

Here ya go, FWIW:

Reverend Rufus Keller was a religious extremist. A kook if you asked me. I didn’t know what a religious extremist was until I met his daughter years after his demise. I say "demise" because his downfall came long after his death. His real demise came the day his house fell.​

​

The Reverend was extreme in every sense of the word: Extreme hatred. Extreme punishment. Extreme lies. Extreme beliefs. He believed he was the ultimate judge of all, even his own daughter.​

​

Yet the Reverend was also in extreme denial about himself.​

​

How can a person become so imprisoned and shackled by their own overbearing opinions and beliefs that they destroy those they claim to love - and yet be so blind to what their extreme hatred gives birth? I still don’t have answers to these questions.​

​

But who am I to judge?​

​

Reverend Keller and I have something in common. I also built my own prison, one that kept me paralyzed by my own fears that tormented me. A fear of not fitting in. A fear of not being good enough. A fear of dogs. A fear of death. A fear of being judged. A fear of losing those close to me, including my little sister Evie. My little sister - the only thing that kept me fighting to survive out there on the Reverend’s farm.​

​

What I feared most was the destruction of the little girl inside of me.​

​

Although this all happened to me many years ago, the indoctrination into the Reverend’s nightmare world has left its mark. Without even being aware of what she was doing, his daughter passed her story on to us in the most ghastly way: by making us relive it. And I passed on the story to someone the Reverend would have hated perhaps the most – a “pagan.”​

​

A pagan? Yes, but no mere pagan: An atheist “head doctor” who told me not to feel guilty for the empathy I felt. An atheist who reminded me that to have empathy and mercy wasn’t weak and didn’t mean I’d fallen prey to the Stockholm syndrome. Maybe it was a bit of defiance on my part when I chose to open up to him about what had happened at the Kellers’ rotting house at the dark edge of the woods.​

​

Yet this question still haunts me: What happens to those not of sound mind, who are mentally sick, incapable of understanding their own actions - what happens when they stand before the Ultimate Judge? Who receives the greater punishment ... the tormentor or the tormented?​

​

Even more than this, perhaps, I ask myself: Did I do the right thing?​

​

The word "defiance" loses me - what was defiant about opening up to the atheist?

What was defiant about her opening up to the atheist? She sees it as defiant because The Reverend had a low opinion of atheists and also taught his daughter to share the same opinion of outsiders. defiance in whom she trusted with their story. If that makes sense.

This is an old thread. Thank you for your time and edit! I did receive valuable feedback from another member who graciously volunteered to read the entire book. They went above and beyond to help develop the characters and plot. The story still is unfinished at this point. That is on me. I finally understand what you mean by it is a lot to ask. Writing takes hard work. Sadly, sometimes a story never gets completed.

 

[O'Darby]

What was defiant about her opening up to the atheist? She sees it as defiant because The Reverend had a low opinion of atheists and also taught his daughter to share the same opinion of outsiders. defiance in whom she trusted with their story. If that makes sense.

This is an old thread. Thank you for your time and edit! I did receive valuable feedback from another member who graciously volunteered to read the entire book. They went above and beyond to help develop the characters and plot. The story still is unfinished at this point. That is on me. I finally understand what you mean by it is a lot to ask. Writing takes hard work. Sadly, sometimes a story never gets completed.

Oh, wow - it's funny when someone doesn't realize a thread is old, but it happens all the time. I'm glad I only spent 15 minutes. Oh, well, I enjoy fiddling with editing. I have a friend who was a major player in the UFO field (he was on things like the Tonight Show) who has a genuinely interesting story to tell but just doesn't have the writing skills or patience. I drafted a first chapter for him but didn't have the time to go further. He went through five paid ghostwriters, none of whom made him happy, and ten years later it's obvious there never is going to be a book.

 

[VictoryinJesus]

Oh, wow - it's funny when someone doesn't realize a thread is old, but it happens all the time. I'm glad I only spent 15 minutes. Oh, well, I enjoy fiddling with editing. I have a friend who was a major player in the UFO field (he was on things like the Tonight Show) who has a genuinely interesting story to tell but just doesn't have the writing skills or patience. I drafted a first chapter for him but didn't have the time to go further. He went through five paid ghostwriters, none of whom made him happy, and ten years later it's obvious there never is going to be a book.

Hopefully your friend has enjoyed the journey. You have listened to what he has to say, helping him with the beginning. And then ghost writers have heard his story. I’ve had help over the years. The process has been a journey…one I never saw myself on since I am a high school drop out and horrible at grammar. I think my grammar has been my biggest hindrance. I can relate to your friend in having a story to tell but lacking writing skills. Maybe he should try writing it himself and let it be what it is…a raw retelling. I don’t know his age and if he is still interested. But he could do it as a log or in journal entry form. To where every entry is a short story in itself leading to the overall project. As if someone was in a hurry and gathered all the eyewitness accounts shoving them messily into one place. Then he could write in small chunks. Writing skills for journaling…are “writing skills” that critical for fat journals full of crucial details and clippings of hidden happenings?

That may sound stupid. You didn’t ask for advice to help your friend. Maybe he is no long interested. It’s good that he has you to hear his story.

 

[O'Darby]

Hopefully your friend has enjoyed the journey. You have listened to what he has to say, helping him with the beginning. And then ghost writers have heard his story. I’ve had help over the years. The process has been a journey…one I never saw myself on since I am a high school drop out and horrible at grammar. I think my grammar has been my biggest hindrance. I can relate to your friend in having a story to tell but lacking writing skills. Maybe he should try writing it himself and let it be what it is…a raw retelling. I don’t know his age and if he is still interested. But he could do it as a log or in journal entry form. To where every entry is a short story in itself leading to the overall project. As if someone was in a hurry and gathered all the eyewitness accounts shoveling them messily into one place. Then he could write in small chunks. Writing skills for journaling…are “writing skills” that critical for fat journals full of crucial details and clippings of hidden happening?

That may sound stupid. You didn’t ask for advice to help your friend. Maybe he is no long interested. It’s good thought that he has you to hear his story.

He's 82, lives like he was 24 (in every sense you can think of) and has the attention span of a gnat, so I don't think there's much hope! :)

 

[Mr E]

Hopefully your friend has enjoyed the journey. You have listened to what he has to say, helping him with the beginning. And then ghost writers have heard his story. I’ve had help over the years. The process has been a journey…one I never saw myself on since I am a high school drop out and horrible at grammar. I think my grammar has been my biggest hindrance. I can relate to your friend in having a story to tell but lacking writing skills. Maybe he should try writing it himself and let it be what it is…a raw retelling. I don’t know his age and if he is still interested. But he could do it as a log or in journal entry form. To where every entry is a short story in itself leading to the overall project. As if someone was in a hurry and gathered all the eyewitness accounts shoving them messily into one place. Then he could write in small chunks. Writing skills for journaling…are “writing skills” that critical for fat journals full of crucial details and clippings of hidden happenings?

That may sound stupid. You didn’t ask for advice to help your friend. Maybe he is no long interested. It’s good that he has you to hear his story.

You can do it.

Finish it!

 

[VictoryinJesus]

You can do it.

Finish it!

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