Revisions:
I already know what I want to focus on through this week, and it's not all to do with cutting down the word count -- although that's a must. If I leave out the parentheses etc, it's at 1711, so I'll be doing a lot of hacking away at the structure. Rewriting bits here and there, but more importantly, I want to work on my descriptions:
1) Up the bling for my troll clan. John Bauer's trolls are so utterly charming, and often done up with jewellery and fancy buttons. That's the aesthetics I'm going for. Darkness as well as light.
2) Play with the concept of trolls being stupid compared to humans, flip that trope. Troll doesn't misinterpret the riddle because he's stupid, he's just better with numbers!
3) Human Changeling should look his age, ie salt n' pepper, gray & gorgeous. With flowery accessories. And pretty moss.
4) See about reversing the King and Queen in the introductory scene. See what fits best.
5) More consistent rhyming from mama and papa troll.
Alright. Week 2 begins with my personal mantra, "Sleep on it".
Plans: 1) print out story, strike anything unnecessary, mark what needs rewriting. I think it's easier to self-edit if I'm reading my words off an actual sheet of paper. Also, I'm partial to the rasping of an ink pen.
2) use the paper jottings to edit the document (I use gdocs). Check word count, read through. Possible rewrite of sections to tighten narrative. Now, most fairy tales I've found online seem to run at a minimum of 3k, but I don't have that luxury. XD Time to crack on!
Note: I've marked the stuff I've cut with "brackets strike", and bits I want to rewrite with "brackets rewrite". [Strike] and [rewrite]. A few parts I'm not sure whether I want to change or cut, hence the question marks or bracketed notes to self. All edits in bold text.
Now I just have to get it down to 1k! Expect an updated (more legible) post tomorrow!---
Once upon a time, not long ago at all, a changeling son returned to the halls of his
[strike]Queen and Her King[/strike] parents. Beneath the lush, flowing green of a hill,
[strike]there[/strike] lay a vast kingdom that reached as far as the horizon and burrowed into a great mountain.
[rewrite]White flowers adorned the hilltop, framing an unassuming cottage with crisp, white walls, and within it, a fire that never went out.[/rewrite] This humble cottage was the doorway through which stepped all manner of folk, to go before the
[rewrite]Mountain King and tell him[/rewrite] of the past year.
[strike]Queen-Mountain sat beside her King[/strike], both clad in moss that glowed from within. Along the cavernous walls [strike]there[/strike] grew mushrooms that cast the halls with a crisp, untethered light that hung like gossamer about the gathering of fae.
[rewrite]The gnomes brought many a bowl of porridge as tribute to the trolls, though by any measure of magic or blood they were on equal footing, one to the other. The elves saluted their cousins with wreaths of ivy and bluebells, being on their best behavior.[/rewrite] But the changeling, knowing not the customs of his kith and kin, came before his parents empty-handed.
"What tribute, this, what travesty?" asked the
[rewrite]Mountain King, staring at his firstborn from under a brow weighed down by cumbersome horns[/rw]. "My son and heir--?"
?Expecting amnesty!? His Mother-Queen gestured with her
[strike]taloned[/strike] STUBBY! [<- also rewrite] fingers. ?Clothed as such: what
is that??
?A dress shirt!?
[strike]Up-piped[/strike] squeaked a goblin,
?A necktie for hanging!? Cried another,
and a third,
?A consummate bureau
crat!?
[strike]The worst part of it all: they weren?t wrong.[/strike] "An accountant, actually,"
[rewrite, punctuation]the changeling decreed. Adjusting his glasses, he cleared his throat[/rw]. ?But I see what you're getting at. I mean no disrespect
[strike], to return without a...boon?[/strike]?
[strike]A boon! [/strike]The congregation of fairies went up in a murmur.
[strike]"Yes,"[/strike] "QUIET!" boomed the King
[strike], sharing sharp grins with his throne?d equal[/strike]. "We shall set forth a challenge."
[strike]The Mother Queen laced fingers with her mate's. "A task."
"A task fit for a princeling."[/strike]"A riddle
[strike?] to be solved[/strike]?" Asked the Queen, and the courtiers cheered.
[add description!]"Quite:
For every heart what needs a box; for every lock, a key. Present to me this paradox;
make use of your degree."
The changeling blinked, owl-like behind his glasses. "Wait, hang on-
[strike]You want me to do what[/strike]? Make a box for my heart, and a key to lock it? You?ve got to be joking!"
[strike]But, as is the wont of well-meaning parents, [/strike]neither King nor Queen spoke in jest, sending him on his way with the
[strike: redundant]raucous[/strike] revelries of the fairy Houses ringing in his ear.
[strike?]It was a wonder he hadn?t been turned to stone yet[/strike?], [strike]as put forth by some? uncle twice or thrice removed and promptly forgotten[/strike]. Changeling plucked the glasses off his sizable nose and used his paisley pocket square to polish them.
[strike?]Fastidious. Precise. Like his favourite song.[/strike?]Once home, he sat overlooking the concrete jungle, and wondered how to craft a box for his heart, or; how to
remove it.
[strike]From his chest.[/strike - redundant, and too on the nose re: the riddle? Maybe. It's gots to go!]The first day, he set out to the hardware store, returning with a bundle of tools and materials.
[strike]Plywood for its sturdiness, metal hinges and bolts; tape measure, safety glasses, and a hammer.[/strike] A toolkit for beginners, and a mountain of sharp little things. The first box he made was an eyesore, and much too small
[strike] for his heart[/strike].
The second day, he made
[strike]a second box[/strike] another,
[strike]which was[/strike] much improved
[strike] both in craft and aesthetics[/strike]. Changeling was pleased, but
[strike]grew[/strike] wary of cutting his own heart from his chest, knowing it would be a gruesome business.
The third day, his box was finished:
[strike]resplendent despite its humble components, complete[/strike] with
[strike]a[/strike] hinged lid and ornate clasp, and a lock befitting its key.
There was only one thing left, to carve out his heart,
[strike, redundant]place it in the box,[/strike] and lock it up, ready for presentation before his King. He shrugged out of his shirt and readied his knife, and just as he was about to set to it,
[strike]mumbling "Third time's a charm,"[/strike, too on the nose re: power of three] a desperate rapping came from his front door.
It was the other changeling,
[strike]stood on his doorstep[/strike] clad in regal moss
[insert description! Add graying hair and crows' feet!] and flowers like a wreath in his hair. He seemed as out of his element as a troll without its cave,
[strike]but there he was[/strike: I overuse this phrase, and have grown allergic to it], [strike]the[/strike] a flush of indignation painting his cheeks a raspberry pink.
"Three days it took me to find you, princeling!
[strike]Three days, [/strike]for you to almost kill yourself! Are you mad?"
The troll scratched his neatly coiffed head with the tip of his carving knife
[strike], unsure whether to be insulted[/strike]. "Not as I'm aware." He turned on his heel, his tail trailing behind him, having slipped free of its confines. It was a hassle, to always hide the thing most eager to leap at the outside world and give a friendly swat.
[strike]"I thought they ate babies," the troll went on[/strike] The troll went
inside, measuring his chest by the rolling of his eye.
[strike]Behind him,[/strike] the human marched to his side and took the knife away. "For to be a prince, you'd need an
inkling; three boxes on your shelf you never had! I tell you: that riddle's a trick, and you too dumb to see it!"
"
I'm too dumb?" The troll guffawed, reaching for the blade, the human interjecting himself; for every verbal blow the distance closed between them:
[strike?]"Thrice over, believe it! Daft and dithering!"
Troll scoffed. "I'm not the one who's rhyming."[/strike?]The moment held, as did their eyes, a flush sparking in each chest. Like opposing magnetic poles they leapt apart,
the knife clattering on the table.
[strike: redundant]The human cleared his throat, the troll much the same.[/strike]"What d'ya mean it's a trick? I'm
not s'posed to build a box-
[strike] and lock it up with my heart in it[/strike]?"
"
Of course not!" The human hissed. "You
dick--! Pardon.
[strike]You think it not-- funny, the one son and heir be tasked to put knife to chest?[/strike]"
[strike]"Well?" [/strike] [switch positions!]The human slumped in a kitchen chair, the troll doing much the same
[/switch], one chair creaking more than the other. Troll elaborated, "I guess I'm not good with riddles."
"You've your flaws, as I have mine
[strike]: riddles not being amongst them[/strike]. I've spent too much time among the fair folk not to gain an understanding."
Troll arched his eyebrow, brown eye
s twinkling. "Not an 'inkling'?"
"Quiet," grinned the human. "The riddle: take a stab at it.
[strike]You're to build a chest to fit your heart, and find a key for it.[/strike]" [-- reference the actual riddle!!!]"A lock and key, for safekeeping."
The human reached across the distance, placing his hand atop his fellow changeling's knuckles. "
[strike/rewrite]And what contains your heart, at present[/strike]? Where does it lie in wait for greater things?"
[strike?]The answer was easy.[/strike?] "Right here," said the troll, and tapped his breast with his closed fist.
The human, not yet satisfied, arched his brow and widened his green eyes in expectation. It was then it came to him: the answer to all his ponderings.
[strike]"I don't need to cut my own heart out! I'm not gonna do the job for them!"[/strike][Move this to end of next sentence]Their nods were echoes, equally resolute.
[move this up to behind 'ponderings']The King and Queen, without a legitimate heir, could reign forever more.
The faerie court was still in session when Troll and Human went
[strike]as one[/strike] before the Queen and
[strike]her[/strike] King. Troll was dressed in his finest, realizing his previous mistake, now adorned with all the baubles and pretty things in his possession: a nose ring set with turquoise, and earrings of
[strike]18 karat[/strike] gold, and a pin for his tie that sparkled even in the otherworldly glow of the great hall.
"My son returns
[strike]with his boon[/strike]," announced the Queen. "A sight for sore eyes!"
"And the man-child at his side," noted the King. "In proper guise, the pair of them.
[not happy with this: rewrite or strike?]What have you for us, children? Other than blatant mockery?"[/rw or strike]"Hold your tongue," chastised Mother. "To make of them changelings was your idea: to
[strike]scoff and[/strike] scorn them now is folly! Show me, my darlings, what have you crafted?"
The princeling presented his box, and inside it lay his previous attempts: a box within
[rewrite]a box within a box[/rw] another, within a third. His mother looked at him, demanding an explanation. "There's no heart, child. Why?"
"I was too literal about your task, Mother, that I tried and failed at it thrice over.
[strike]It was only in meeting the human whose life you stole for my sake, that I saw through it.[/strike] [add something about numbers being his strong suite, not riddles] My heart is mine to give,
[strike]not yours to demand[strike], and there's no finer chest for it than my own. If anyone should unlock it, it's you. It is
you who should find the key what fits."
The human's words rang in his mind still, the caution to tread carefully, lest he be right in his suspicions. Why else
[strike/rw]would they have sent[/strike rw] send their son away, and
[strike/rw]kept[/strike rw] keep another as a surrogate, if not for their own, grim amusement? But all of a sudden the hall rang with claps like thunder, as the King
[strike?]put hand to hand in resounding applause[/strike?] applauded him.
"I
told you he was cleverer than his looks suggest!" He boomed.
[strike?]"And the man-child isn't just a pretty face!"[/strike]The Queen moaned, publicly outed. "
[strike]Never would I ascribe daftness to beauty, nor a lack of brains on one's father's side!{strike] And whose idea was it, but
yours, to put him to the test!?"
Troll and Human looked at each other
[strike], as their parents?of sorts kept bickering[/strike]. "I admit I was wrong," whispered the human
[strike], who wasn't a man-child in anything but heritage[/strike - add other descriptors].
"I'm glad," said the troll prince. "Or we'd 've
[strike]been starting[/strike] started a war over my heart."
[rewrite slightly]"Not a good start: when your parents' sole crime was missing you, all along."[/rw]Troll reached between them,
[strike] brushing the human's hand[/strike], pleased when their fingers twined. "If we're to be friends, you've got to stop
[strike]with the[/strike] rhyming."
Human chuckled,
[strike]all[/strike] eyes a-twinkle like a faun. "If you're asking me out on a date, you've
terrible timing."
And so it was, that a troll prince was set a challenge
[rewrite]and failed[/rw], but came out a winner all the same.
~The End~
---
All this, and I end up at 1531 words (including notes). I have to somehow cut a third of the story! Wish me luck! 
Topic: Kindred: a self-edit in two-to-three stages >_> (Read 2234 times)