So, at Natalie's great suggestion, I put aside my Tristan novel for a little while, and started work on a new story. The short story I mentioned earlier. It's really nice to put my energy into something else.
I mean, I love my Tristan story, but I don't want to put my whole life into it, only to have it rejected across the board. Obviously, I shouldn't doom it to utter rejection yet. I haven't even submitted a single query. But, I just want to make sure that I have other things that I am working on, so that in the event that things never pan out with Tristan, I'll move right onto the next project.
I think this story is a good one to ease myself into. It's just a short story . . . for now. Anyway, I thought I'd give a little taste. It's SciFi. Post Apocalyptic to be exact.
Since it's a short, I know it's got to hook you right off the bat. Any critiques of this opening? Oh, and please, don't feel like you have to be nice.
*The lights in the side corridors of Constancy Wing always flickered, and sometimes didn’t work at all—a fact that Sparrow found rather ironic. Today, as she followed Cadre786 to her self-criticism chamber, a single bulb sputtered yellow light down on them. The rest were dark.
Sparrow grimaced. A bad sign. That probably meant the air channels weren’t working right either, and on a summer day like this, those chambers get to be like ovens. Sparrow could already feel sweat beading on her temples and above her top lip. She rubbed a hand over her swollen belly. The child shifted with her touch. You aren’t going to make it any better, you know.
Cadre786 stopped in front of the chamber door and pressed his palm against the control pad.
"The Committee has decided to give you an extra three hours this session, Technician305." The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk as he waited for the print to process.
"We have hopes that, perhaps with a bit more time, you will find within yourself genuine submission to the Truth."*