[BrianTubbs]

I'm working on my very, very first novel. I've had IDEAS for novels for years and wrote several 'fun' stories as a middle-schooler many years ago. (I'm now in my thirties). While I've written articles (and been published) in the years since, I've always had a desire to write novels. But, due to fear, laziness, procrastination, writer's block, etc.....well, you know the drill.

Anyway, I'm launching into my first serious novel as an adult. It's shaping up to be a YA fantasy novel. Here's the 'logline.'

Does it have potential?

The Last Prince

A disgraced and low-ranking prince must raise an army to save his kingdom from an invasion he accidentally unleashed.

Story idea: My MC is an insecure, semi-nerdy teenager (about 17 or 18), who is no warrior (kind of wimpy, actually) and somewhat of an embarrassment to his family. He does excel at law and diplomacy, at least from an analytical perspective. He shows promise as a potential lawyer or diplomat. But he wants to be a warrior-leader like his older brother who he adores.

He's sent on a diplomatic mission, botches it, and gives his kingdom's dreaded enemy the pretext to launch a full-scale invasion which devastates Magnar (his kingdom). Disgraced and guilt-ridden, he wants to run away and never return. But he can't desert his people, so he tries his best to evacuate towns and villages in the invader's path - to get them to safety. And then strikes out on a mission to assassinate the invading leader. He knows it is a suicide mission and hopes to go out in a blaze of glory.

But, in the course of the invasion, his father and his siblings are all killed - and he becomes the Last Prince. It's up to him to either kill the invader (or attempt to) on a desperate, suicide mission - OR - try to salvage what's left of Magnar and rebuild it.

***

Does this have potential?

[Physics Knight]

One can't tell anything about a book from the premise. To be blunt, I don't care about the premise. I care if you can write. I've read books with cool premises that make me want to vomit because their writing is so awful, and amazing books that had lousy premises, where I reluctant to start it but eventually really got into it. Don't worry so much about whether you have a nifty premise. It's all about the writing and if you can get the reader to be interested in your characters. It is the details. If you can get me to care about what is at stake, to be concerned about the outcome whether I'm cheering for the hero or waiting to see the villain to get her/his comeuppings then you've got me as a reader.

I actually see on alot of forums for writing posts about "Is this idea neat?" and it doesn't matter! Robin Hobb can get me engrossed in what her characters do when alone in a cabin. Focus instead on learning your writer's craft and making believable characters. And good luck!

[MrBF1V3]

Maybe the question is, do you think the idea has potential? It's pretty much an accepted fact in this forum that just about any idea is good if the writer can pull it off. And that gets somewhat easier if you, the writer, are enjoying the story. I would say there are some ideas that wouldn't be good no matter who wrote them, IMHO, and there are even more ideas I wouldn't touch with a twenty foot pole. I don't think your concept fits in either category, though I don't think I'll be picking up this idea. (don't panic.)

Being experienced at writing and editing will help you a lot. Some of us had to learn editing the hard way. I'd say, jump in, write your story, rewrite your story. Take chances, try something new, have fun with it.

Good luck with that, okay?

B5

[Bethelamon]

Yes, its all about the writing.

But for what its worth, I think your idea is VERY Interesting!!!!! I like it!

[KatG]

Yes, and you could go YA or middle school with it. Since it has some dark edges and an increasingly complex plot that's probably going to require a fair amount of text to cover, YA would likely work best for you.

One big plot point where you will have to decide where you want to go with things is the proposed killing off of the rest of the royal family. You could take it in several directions:

1) Because the prince started the war, his family dies and it his fault. He not only has to see about rebuilding his country but has to carry that guilt until his own death -- that's what you currently have.

2) His family is killed not by the enemy but by traitors in the court who poison or otherwise assassinate them. The prince is still at fault but only in giving the traitors an opportunity and not being there since he went off on his suicide mission.

3) The prince thinks that his family were all killed and acts to lead his country. Once they succeed -- if they succeed? -- he discovers that his father the king and/or his idolized brother is alive and badly injured.

Any of those would work; it just depends on what you want the thematic notes of the story to be.

[BrianTubbs]

Thanks for the comments. Here's my attempt at execution....

****

A scavenger glided through the cloudless sky. It was as if it anticipated the carnage about to be unleashed below it. As if it knew there would be plenty to flesh upon which to feed.
Forming up on the lush, green plain below were bands of Malendar warriors, attired in padded leather shirts, a smattering of kilts or leggings, and the occasional helmet or shield. Their faces painted for war, they raised their swords and pikes in defiance of the army above them. They chanted and shouted, banged their shields, and adjusted their positions in response to their warlords.
On a hill overlooking the sweeping and lush plain stood four horsemen. Resplendent atop their black stallions and in their silver armor and crimson capes, they surveyed what was to be a bloody battlefield.
Behind them stood a line of at least a thousand infantry and another three hundred archers. Unlike the men on the plain, these men were in crisp uniforms and precise formations. Red Eagle banners flew proudly above the soldiers of Magnar. These were soldiers in the world’s greatest empire.
“Numbers?” asked one of the horsemen.
“Our scouts count nearly 2000 rebels, your highness,” replied the cavalry commander, General Lochlan.
His highness, the crown prince of Magnar, turned to the horsemen closest to him, “Brother, you will command the archers.”
Nathan, Magnar’s lowest-ranking prince, nodded. He had been thrilled at the prospect of accompanying his brother in battle. His nod was tight, betraying his nervousness.
“Easy, my brother,” Philip said, placing his arm on his younger brother’s shoulder. “Glory and honor.”
Nathan unsheathed his sword, bringing it up in front of his face, saluting his brother.
Philip grinned. Nathan’s horse was not cooperating. It jolted around, causing him to almost drop the sword. Nathan cursed under his breath.
Philip chuckled lightly. “It’s okay, brother. We’re all full of energy today.”
Nathan looked on in glowing admiration as his brother cantered forward, whipping his sword from its scabbard in one graceful sweep. He then spun his horse around, bringing it up on its hind legs to face his army.
“Brothers in arms!” bellowed the crown prince. “Today, we restore justice in this province and bring honor to our Empire!”
Cheers echoed from the ranks. Nathan’s heart swelled.
“Places!” shouted Philip. Officers spread out to their respective positions. The army began to ripple with activity, making its pre-battle adjustments.
Nathan rode to the line of archers behind the infantry. Bringing his horse to a halt before the archer’s senior captain, he thanked the Creator silently that the animal actually stopped.
“Orders, sire?” asked the captain.
“Prepare to fire.”
The captain nodded, turned to his men. “Archers! Prepare to fire!”
In what was almost a unison movement, the archers all reached into their back satchels, removing two arrows, and notching them into their bows. This was to be a barrage, so they would begin with two arrow volley shots.
Philip and Lochlan led formed the cavalry up in front of the army. Nathan wondered why Philip didn’t bring the cavalry in from the side to flank the rebels while the infantry engaged them to the front. But he was a low-ranking prince. The lowest, in fact. What did he know?
With the wave of his sword, Philip and the cavalry began their descent down the hill and into the fertile plain. Trotting their horses at first, they would still be within the rebels’ line of fire in moments.
Matthew could barely contain his enthusiasm. It was a moment he had dreamed about forever. His first battlefield command. He wanted to make sure he was loud enough to be heard, but not too loud as to shout and break protocol. It was, after all, the archer captain that would relay the order to the men. Nathan would direct his orders to the captain. So caught up in the thought, he almost forgot to the give the command.
“Fire!” he blurted out.
Knowing the prince had been a little late, the captain relayed the order instantaneously, finishing the word almost before the prince did.
Hundreds of arrows flooded the sky, streaking across the field toward the enemy ranks. Most of the rebels crouched down. Some took cover behind their shields. Others just stared defiantly forward, knowing they can do nothing to stop the hellish avalanche.
And then, the avalanche hit. Dozens of rebels fell, some with multiple arrows skewering their bodies. The rebels remaining screamed their defiance.
“Again,” ordered Nathan.
The arrows flooded the sky again, showering death and despair on the rebels in the field below.
Nathan saw Philip waving his sword and the cavalry charge picked up its pace. The infantry then moved out, advancing in perfect dual lines across the open field.
Philip’s strategy was simple. The cavalry, led by himself and Lochlan, would hit the front ranks of the rebels, hoping to confuse and frighten them. Then, they would break off, circle around, and hit again. After the second hit, they would break free, and wait for the infantry to close for the death blow.
Nathan realized that the strategy would not work against a more battle-tested army. Too much risk for the cavalry. But he also knew that, given the disposition of the rebels, it was possible they would lose their courage and flee the field before the infantry even struck.
The cavalry were too close for a third volley, so Nathan signaled the captain to stand his men down and await further instructions.
Nathan could see in the distance that Philip’s cavalry was now tangling with the rebel lines. He saw a few of the Magnarian horsemen fall, but far more rebel warriors were dropping. Nathan watched in awe as his brother rode into the middle of a large pack of rebel warriors, slashing and striking his way through them.
Then, the cavalry withdrew. The rebels, disoriented and bloodied, tried to regroup. Only to be hit again by the cavalry. A large section of the rebel line broke, and what appeared to be several hundred warriors began fleeing from the field. More Magnarian cavalry went down, but again their casualties were minor compared to what was being inflicted on the enemy.
Nathan was so caught up in the action in the distance that he barely noticed the flicker of movement to his right.
“Sire!” The captain shouted a warning, just as a spear pierced his upper chest.
Nathan spun to see a few dozen cavalry burst from the forest, waving swords and hurling spears at his archers. And at him.
“Horsemen!” screamed one of the archers.
The horsemen were on them before they could react. The archers closest to the woods were quickly slaughtered. The rest frantically tried to notch arrows as they withdrew, trying to get some distance between them and the rebel cavalry. That, however, was a hopeless fantasy.
Nathan raised his sword to block a spear thrust toward his face. The spear glanced off the sword, and slammed across his breastplate. Nathan tried to grab his shield, but it was too late.
A blow to the back of his helmet sent him reeling forward. Nathan hugged his horse’s neck, kicked its sides, trying to gallop away from the chaos. Nathan succeeded only in riding toward a new danger.
Two spears thudded into his horse’s side. His horse shrieked in pain, and fell to its right, taking Nathan to the ground. Nathan smashed into the ground. The air shot out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe or speak, but felt nothing but terror as he realized his right leg was trapped under his horse’s now lifeless body.
His shield had already been lost. His sword was several feet away from him. He could do nothing to defend himself.
Three barrel-chested, face-painted rebels approached, ready to impale the prince to the ground with their spears. Nathan closed his eyes, felt tears. Then, he heard the whooshing sound of arrows. He opened his eyes to see his three attackers spin lifeless to the ground.
Five Magnarian archers rushed toward him. “My prince,” once said. Four of them lifted the horse just enough for Nathan to escape.
He started to thank them, as more rebel horsemen swarmed in, decapitating one archer and disemboweling another.
Nathan and the remaining archers who saved him ran for their lives. Nathan gave no thought to picking up his sword. If he could, he would have shed his armor. He felt nothing but sheer horror.
The running archer closest to him was cut down by a horseman, who then came toward Nathan. Nathan anticipated the swing. He ducked just in time, tripped, and rolled on the ground. The horseman cursed as he swept past him.
Nathan started to rise. Looked around frantically. He saw about a hundred of his archers gathered in a circular formation firing non-stop into the horsemen that circled them. Nathan guessed that over half the archers had been massacred, but now they were putting up a rather spirited fight. There weren’t many horsemen left.
“Brother! Look out!”
Nathan fell to the ground at the familiar voice. Just in time too, as one of the last rebel horsemen almost severed the young prince’s head.
Any hope the rebels had of turning the tide was now gone, for Philip had arrived. Nathan watched as the dozen or so remaining rebel cavalry galloped back into the woods, away from Philip’s cavalry and the archers.
Philip gestured to the woods with this sword, shouting to Lochlan, “Finish them off, commander!”
Lochlan didn’t bother to salute or reply. He just galloped into the woods, his loyal cavalry following.
Nathan rose to his feet, eyed his brother. Philip’s armor was stained with dirt and blood. His sword was drenched in red ooze – a mixture of blood and guts. His shield was gone. His horse was winded and bleeding. And, yet, across Philip’s face was a broad smile. “We did it, brother. The rebels are finished.”
Nathan surveyed the scene around him. Many of his archers littered the field. Most on the ground were dead. Many would be very soon.
Nathan knew he should’ve felt joy at the victory, but he felt nothing. Well, that wasn’t true. He felt lucky to be alive. And…..he felt ashamed.

[Bent Arrowni]

I have three questions:

1.- Are you going to tell the story by your style or just by writing it?

2.- To what do you aspire when you focus on this proyect?

3.- Are you willing to completely scrap your idea to do something else?

[Bethelamon]

This extract certainly has promise. There are aspects of it which need working on, and aspects which are very good indeed.

Im not going to talk about specific grammatical errors and such fine details, but rather about overall ideas.

First of all, is this the first chapter?
If so, I wouldn't give so much attention to military formations and the uniforms of the soldiers... To be honest this won't interest most readers. Am I right in saying you have an interest in military wargames? If so, it shows. For instance, near the beginning...

Forming up on the lush, green plain below were bands of Malendar warriors, attired in padded leather shirts, a smattering of kilts or leggings, and the occasional helmet or shield. Their faces painted for war, they raised their swords and pikes in defiance of the army above them. They chanted and shouted, banged their shields, and adjusted their positions in response to their warlords.


We don't need to know about how many are wearing kilts or leggings, or the proportion of soldiers that are helmeted. I see you want to put across the idea that they aren't very disciplined or uniformed, but there are ways of doing this other than listing how many soldiers have what equipment. See what I mean?
Saying 'Unlike the men on the plain, these men were in crisp uniforms and precise formations' is enough to show the contrasting uniformity of the armies.

Also, you say 'Forming up on the lush, green plain below were bands of Malendar warriors'. I would lose the word Malendar, as we don't need to know where they are from or their nationality so early on. Just refering to them as rebels, and references to the well-disciplined Magnar soldiers is enough. If you are going to say they are from Malendar, do it later on, not in the second paragraph. This makes it too much like some sort of war game rather than a realistic depiction of battle. I hope you understand what I'm saying...

“Our scouts count nearly 2000 rebels, your highness,” replied the cavalry commander, General Lochlan
I would lose 'cavalry commander'. Either have 'replied General Lochlan' or 'replied the horseman on his left', or something similar. Again, we don't really need to know that he is the cavalry commander, it makes it too much like a war game again. You should assume your reader knows nothing about the military, and thus to the reader Lochlan is just another soldier, obviously high-ranking, but we have no idea of his exact position. We don't need to. If you MUST have him refered to in this way, do it through the speech of the charaters - as in 'Numbers, General Lochlan?'.

In what was almost a unison movement, the archers all reached into their back satchels, removing two arrows, and notching them into their bows. This was to be a barrage, so they would begin with two arrow volley shots.

Do you mean each archer is firing two arrows at the same time? Is this technically possible? Its certainly not believable, to me at least.

His first battlefield command. He wanted to make sure he was loud enough to be heard, but not too loud as to shout and break protocol. It was, after all, the archer captain that would relay the order to the men.
I wouldn't refer to him as the 'archer captain'. Either refer to him by name ie 'It was Richard who woul relay the order'... but of course you might not want Nathan to know his name. In which case, when he is first refered to, call him 'the captain of the archers', and every time aftewards simply as 'the captain'. If you keep referring to him as 'the archer captain' it agains makes it like a war game.

Anyway, I could go on but I won't. My point is that there are lots of aspects which make it read too much like the writings of a computer/tabletop wargame enthusiast. You need to lose this to keep the average reader interested. So basically not too much detail on military matters, strategies, equipment, etc.... There is nothing wrong with starting a story with a battle, because it can be very exciting. But if you start the story with a battle as told by someone who obviously is very interested in such things, it spoils it. Don't worry, I love nothing more than swords and battles too - but you've got to learn to calm it down a bit, which can be hard. Putting too much detail in lessens the effect.

Also, when describing fighting, personally I don't like too much detail, especially in a scene of confusion such as here. I would rather read 'He started to thank them, when suddenly they fell to the ground as more rebel horsemen swarmed in' rather than 'He started to thank them as more rebel horsemen swarmed in, decapitating one archer and disemboweling another.'
I don't need to know how they died, and Nathan wouldn't care. In such a confusing and terrifying situation as he is in, all he would register is that the people he is talking to have suddenly dropped to the floor dead in a split second. He wouldn't notice the way each one of them was dispatched.
The exception to this is if it really DOES make an emotional impact on him - for instance if he is talking to someone facing him, when the top of his head is chopped off and he stands there staring at Nathan for a second before falling, who gets splattered with his blood... something like that WOULD stick in his mind and can be used for a very emotive impact. So you can leave in how the archer captain is impaled on a spear, before Nathan sees the horsemen. That works well.

Anyway, what I did particularly like is the sense of confusion and fear I got from Nathan, that was well done. Try and focus on this rather than what the rebels are wearing.