Reviews

Note: The story for which this review was intended has since been deleted.

Hi there! I’m Golden Vision of WRITE, and I’ll be your reviewer today. I hope that this review will be both enjoyable and informative.

In the absence of any other place to start, let’s begin with the synopsis—the cornerstone of every story’s readership.

The synopsis of a fic is the harbinger of the literary prowess to come; however, the synopsis of A Dragon’s Path contains a number of spelling, grammatical, and syntactical errors that make it difficult to read.

Spike a lone dragon has finally found his true family but will he go with his brother and learn the ways of the Dragon or stay with his friends in ponyvilie. And will his journey be fruitful or will he regret going on this journey into the unknown.

should be:

Spike, a lone dragon, has finally found his true family, but will he go with his brother and learn the ways of the Dragon, or stay with his friends in Ponyville? Will his journey be fruitful, or will he regret going on this journey into the unknown?

(Mechanical fixes have been underlined. The most frequent mistake was a missing comma)

Although the synopsis may appear to require the least effort on the author’s part, it is often the most important when attracting and retaining an audience. Readers want to feel invested in your story—in the world that you plan to create—and an abundance of mechanical or other errors can break that immersion before it’s even had the chance to form. Like it or not, the synopsis is a reader’s first taste of a story, and an un-edited one is the easiest way to completely turn off a large base of your potential readership.

On the surface, this sounds like an interesting concept. Somewhat along the lines of Dragon Quest, it offers us a chance to delve more deeply into Spike’s character: his past, his future, and his sense of belonging. Most often, that link to dragonhood comes in the form of a parent—more commonly a mother—so a brother’s presence may provide a more unique aspect to the storytelling process.

Delving into the first chapter, Encounters of the Brotherly Kind, it quickly becomes apparent that this fic’s opening resembles what is called a “weather report”. Although a weather report is most often used in the context of a phrase such as:

”It was a beautiful day in Ponyville. The birds were chirping, Celestia’s sun was warm, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

We can most clearly see the equivalence with A Dragon’s Path by comparing this example to ADP’s opening sentence:

It was your average day in Ponyville…

A major problem with weather reports is their descriptive nature. While another fic may describe the weather and surrounding geography, and ADP may instead choose to lay out everypony’s current activities, the fact that this is a very passive description of a scene weakens its ability to draw a reader in.

As with the synopsis, the “hook” of a story is most often the opening sentence and/or paragraph. It’s popular to use, for this hook, an action scene—in media res, the act of throwing a reader right into the middle of the plot, is fairly well-known in this context—a piece of dialogue (preferably engaging and relevant to the plot)—or some other piece of prose that grabs the reader’s attention and doesn’t let go.

It’s most often undesirable to have a weather report opening because it fails to accomplish a hook’s stated goals. A reader may come into a story expecting sunny weather, or expecting Pinkie Pie to be baking or babysitting; however, that’s not what they came for. These are generic, stock actions, and so can disregarded. In this story’s case, readers open the first chapter to join Spike on his journey of self-discovery; consequently, the story should begin with a situation relevant to that premise in order to properly repay those readers who have given you their time.

There are also a number of mechanical problems present on the first page alone: punctuation mistakes, spelling errors, repetitive vocabulary, and missing semicolons and commas. For a reader who may have ignored similar mistakes in the synopsis, their presence on the very first page may only serve to further dissuade their continued enjoyment of this fic.

Further on, a multitude of dialogue errors become apparent. For example:

"Yaa, a really goo but befor he could finsh his sarcastic comment…. (*Burp*)."

should be:

”Yeah, a really goo—” Before he could finish his sarcastic comment, a loud burp echoed through the room.

Note that proper punctuation—such as an em-dash and closing quotation marks—have been added to this piece of dialogue, while the action following that dialogue has been separated into its own sentence. Note also that the action has been described in more depth, and as a complete sentence. Normally, the direct enunciation of sounds such as burping, crunching, or other noticeable noises is looked down upon in prose; however, if an author must, it’s most common to do so with simple italics, and with the addition of an exclamation point if necessary. Thus, in the absence of better description:

(*Burp*)

becomes:

Burp!

Moving on, it’s slightly confusing as to why Twilight’s book is of any import. It’s a fairly generic Twilight think to have present, but unless The Art of Organization is relevant to the upcoming story, it may well be better to open up with a different situation.

that's weird it's bright red scroll with the royal seal; must be important

It’s a bit odd that Spike would find this manner of mail strange and Celestia is (presumably) their only regular contact; thus, they’d probably be used to receiving royal missives (as in The Ticket Master, Dragonshy, and Return of Harmony). Therefore, Spike would be more likely to recognize it as:

“It’s mail from Celestia!”

and less likely to give a full physical description, which is better suited to more objective narration.

Relevantly, it’s not yet apparent whose point of view this story is from, yet. I would guess Spike, but we’ve seen nothing yet of his inner monologue, thoughts, or perceptions; it seems that the writing style focuses more on scene-wide actions and dialogue than any one character’s perspective. While that may not be an intrinsically bad choice for a story, it does make it a bit more difficult for the reader to connect with the characters on an emotional level.

Just quickly, good job on leaving out the final quotation mark before reading the letter’s text (same character speaking, new paragraph, and so on). Not many authors remember that—it can be a fairly little-known grammatical rule—so good work there.

It’s an interesting thought for the dragons to be migrating out-of-season. Upon reading that, my mind immediately jumped to what could have caused this—some kind of domestic political dispute? A new villain or monster so terrifying that even dragons are running from them? Whatever it is, it’s an eye-catching concept. However, at this stage in the story, I can’t help but wonder whether it might be more effective for the first chapter to open with the arrival of these dragons, such as with:

Twilight Sparkle’s world was covered in scales.

Rubbing her eyes to make sure that she wasn’t still asleep, she pushed the curtain aside and peered out of the window once again. Sure enough, they were still there: long, reptilian tails, elongated snouts with sharp fangs, horns and wings that stretched farther than most ponies’ bodies…

...and of course, scales. Scales everywhere.

It’s not the most well-written opening, but it should get across the basic idea: that Twilight is waking up to a surprising event ( Ponyville being covered by dragons). From here, we can go into (perhaps) a letter to or from Celestia, or an interface with the dragons. Perhaps something like this happens a few pages down the line, and I’m merely taking issue with things that aren’t there (though the hook still needs much improvement).

Moving right along.

Should Celestia’s letter remain in the next draft, I will say that it does its job—exposition—fairly well, excepting the numerous mechanical mistakes peppering it like much of the surrounding prose. Twilight’s reaction, however, comes a bit too quickly—the reader sees very little of her actual reaction, as she immediately rushes out the door to go accomplish her next goal. There’s very little characterization here; Twilight’s dialogue and actions comes across as a means to an end (that is, moving the plot along), rather than purporting to illustrate her thought process and/or emotional state in any meaningful way.

This pacing is a problem for the rest of the scene (short as it may be). There’s very little description of what her actual journey is, and though a scene-cut through telling or expository information can be useful, the writing here is too short and choppy to make up for it. In much the same vein, there’s precious little description to go along with this change in scene. Where is Rainbow Dash? Outside of Sugarcube Corner? On a cloud above Ponyville? How does she react to Twilight’s approach or actions?

There’s a definite lack of visual information here—both of the surrounding area and of each pony’s body language and/or actions—and that can be damaging to a reader’s immersion. After all, unlike in a naturally visual medium like television or film, writing needs to convey that same imagery through words instead of pixels.

"RAINBOW DASH!"

"HU-WHAT!

Do be advised that it’s a very unpopular decision to use capslock in almost any situation. Italics are much preferred, along with exclamation marks (which you have here) or speech tags corresponding to loud, explosive dialogue (i.e. “shouted,” “hollered,” or “exclaimed”).

Another problem within the text is the overuse of descriptors or epithets to refer to characters instead of their name or a pronoun. This particular issue is colloquially known as “Lavender Unicorn Syndrome.” For example, it’s largely preferable to use “Twilight” or “Twilight Sparkle” to refer to that particular character rather than “the purple mare.” There are several reasons for this—I would direct you to Ezn’s Guide, on the FimFic FAQ for a more thorough explanation—but the most important one is that it detracts from your prose. Longer, clunky epithets take the place of what should be a simple name (or pronoun, if you’ve recently referred to that character), and so can cause the reader to stumble over words that should just flow automatically. Although it may seem necessary to avoid overuse of a character’s name, as long as the writer takes note of which character has last appeared, the use of pronouns should void any feeling of repetition that may otherwise appear.

It is, of course, possible to use epithets in some cases—and at times even necessary—but only when strictly relevant or significant. For example, it would be a rare time when “the cyan pegasus” became useful, but far more common is to refer to Celestia (in Twilight’s point of view) as “her mentor,” or “the princess.” Epithets and descriptors can be a necessary way to paint a certain picture in the reader’s mind, but because they can be so blunt in their purpose, it’s recommended that they be used sparingly.

As a quick aside, the most common scene cut convention on FimFic is to use the {hr} BBCode tag, which provides for a simple horizontal line (plus appropriate spacing) between distinct scenes.

Scene 1 [ hr ] Scene 2

Removing the spaces between the brackets and the words, this becomes:

Scene 1

---

Scene 2

Keep that in mind. It’s a much cleaner way of doing things.

As the next scene progresses, it becomes clear that there’s an overabundance of both speech tags and adverbs. We’ll get to the latter problem in a moment.

Speech tags are, put simply, verbs that are used to illustrate dialogue. They include (but are not limited to) words such as: said, stated, questioned, replied, shouted, and whispered. The most common of these is said, and it’s common for a reason. Due to its simplicity, it’s a very plain, vanilla word that can be used often without too many problems. A writer need not worry about repetition with such words—with similar words including “he,” she,” “they,” “the,” and “and”—and so it’s often preferable to re-use “said” a few times rather than to constantly switch around terms, using vocabulary such as “stated,” “questioned” (in place of “asked,” which is a similarly vanilla verb), or “mentioned.”

With that said, this fic has an overabundance of those “variety” words. The following:

...like when a bear asked Fluttershy to watch his cave for a week," Rainbow Dash stated.

would be better served by the replacement of “stated” by “said,” as follows:

...like when a bear asked Fluttershy to watch his cave for a week," Rainbow Dash said.

Note that I’ve removed the adverb “bluntly,”  which was previously modifying the word “stated.” With “bluntly” specifically, it’s more common to represent that same descriptor or idea through body language or tone rather than an adverb. In general, though, it’s commonly considered bad practice to use adverbs any more than strictly necessary. If at all possible, it’s greatly preferred to use body language (to express the same idea or tone), or simply a better, more descriptive and relevant word.

This is part of a larger debate on Show, Don’t Tell (which we may well get to later) in which it’s better to show a reader a picture than to tell them what it’s a picture of. Words paint pictures, after all, and it’s much nicer to see the picture than to merely get the headline. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then the inverse is true as well, and an author is only cheating themselves if they choose to directly give the reader that information rather than illustrate its existence.

As a quick example, take the following:

”Get out of here!” Rainbow Dash said angrily.

So, be this piece of dialogue (and associated verb), we know that Rainbow Dash is angry. However, we know this only on an intellectual level—there’s no actual emotional investment or belief that she really is upset. Instead, like children, the readers are told to accept this at face value. This is a practice that can harm immersion; thus, it’s better to expand upon the action. How might we do so?

”Get out of here!” Rainbow Dash snarled. She bared her teeth, pawing at the ground. She flipped her mane out of her eyes and glared.

Those parts meant to show Dash’s anger have been bolded. As we saw earlier, one way to replace adverbs is to simply use a stronger verb—in this case, snarled is an excellent way to convey that feeling of scathing, sudden irritation or rage. Additionally, to deepen this image of anger, examples of body language allow the reader to construct a more cohesive picture of what this “angry Rainbow Dash” looks like, thus enhancing believability. She bares her teeth and glares, which give us the clear image of a maddened pegasus who is not to be crossed.

Let’s take a moment to step back and look at some of the possible improvements we’ve discussed. They include:

—Lavender Unicorn Syndrome (the overuse of epithets)

—Speech Tag Variation

—Adverb Overuse

—Show, Don’t Tell (Body Language)

To apply these all at once, let’s take an excerpt from the fic and see how they work:

Original Version

"Eep!" goes a yellow pegasus at the mere thought of giant, flying reptiles

"So what Twi, all kinds of animals do stuff out of the ordinary stuff once in a while, like when a bear asked Fluttershy to watch his cave for a week," Rainbow Dash stated bluntly.

Revised Version

Fluttershy let out a high-pitched squeal. When Twilight turned to look at her, Fluttershy's hooves were held tightly over her eyes, head pressed against the ground. Twilight nearly facehooved. I thought she’d grown out of this ages ago.

Rainbow Dash groaned. With a twist of her hoof, she shoved Fluttershy's hooves away from her face and pulled her upright. "Oh, c'mon. They're just a bunch of fat ol' lizards." Fluttershy whimpered.

Dash turned back to face Twilight, who raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And so what? All kinds of animals do stuff out of the ordinary once in a while."

In the revised version, we've done a few things:

1.) Corrected spelling/grammatical errors to improve readability

2.) Changed examples of Lavender Unicorn Syndrome to full names or pronouns where appropriate

3.) Expanded told emotions to shown body language (e.g. groaning, hiding, etc).

4.) Provided the narrative with a concrete point of view (Twilight’s)

The fourth point is something that I’d like to address further. For most of the story thus far, the perspective has been that of an objective cameraman, watching the scene but without giving insight into any one character’s thoughts or perceptions. While this is a valid way to write a story, A Dragon’s Path would likely benefit from a more concrete form of the third-person perspective, in which each scene is narrated from the point of view of a specific character. This specific character may be Twilight, Spike, or whoever the author believes to be the most interesting or relevant to that particular scene.

In the example above, as you can see, I’ve chosen Twilight. Through her inner monologue—that is, her direct thoughts—we can see the situation through her eyes, gaining a better appreciation for her perspective while also becoming more immersed into the story. Similarly, when Twilight “raises a skeptical eyebrow,” we’re able to add in the adjective “skeptical” because we can see the emotion and reasoning behind her actions. By writing—or rewriting—a story in third person limited, then, an author can allow the reader to feel as though they’re standing in Twilight’s shoes—or horseshoes, as it may be—thus enhancing the reading experience.

Moving back to the story proper, Dash’s question about naming the dragons seems more than a bit odd. Most dragons in FiM canon already have their own, given names, so it makes little sense that Rainbow Dash would want to give them new ones. Furthermore, she’s shown very little interest in dragonkind as a species before, so her sudden enthusiasm in the subject is also strange.

Similarly, there appears to be no clear reason as to why Twilight would require another trench. They know that the dragons are approaching, but there’s no reason to suspect that they would land in any predictable location, much less the same plot of land as last time. It may be unwise to give the task of warning the town to Pinkie—a pony known for her ability to skimp out on “small” (i.e. important) details. Why not give that job to Applejack instead, a pony widely known for her communication skills?

As reflected in Twilight’s revised inner monologue earlier, Fluttershy’s attitude here is quite out of character (OOC). Even in Dragon Quest she only displayed an extreme reluctance to approach any dragons, and that was nothing compared to the apparent terror she feels hear. In any case, she gets over this fear so quickly (in the space of a paragraph) that its presence makes little to no sense—it’s barely a pebble, let alone a roadbump or actual conflict. It’s resolved to quickly to actually mean anything. Were this story actually about Fluttershy, this problem could actually be elevated to a meaningful character arc or plotline, but as this fic is about Spike, this fear only serves as a one-dimensional, temporary annoyance.

A scene break is missing between the “infodump session” and the dragons’ appearance. Furthermore, with all of the buildup after Celestia’s letter, we get to see precious little of the ponies’ actual preparation, which is somewhat odd. As a technical note, it’s uncommon to write out the numbers of dates or times (seven o’clock in the morning, or seven A.M. is the norm, rather than 7:00). The same is true for standard, everyday numbers (i.e. “two” instead of “2”).

Rarity’s eruption over the dragon’s supposed “beauty” is very odd, especially considering that she’s been in a similar situation before (Dragon Quest) and didn’t react in that way at all.

The transition from “reactions to dragons” to “the day going by” is nonexistent. This is a scene that needs further development greatly—the readers are expected to jump from “terrified ponies” to “ponies studying dragons” without so much as a hesitation. Although pacing can be a difficult concept to master, in a situation as basic as this, good or bad pacing between and throughout scenes can make or break a story. Transitions are a necessary concept in any piece of writing; otherwise, the reader can feel lost—as though they’ve been unceremoniously dumped from one idea to another.

Quite a bit of the narration in this section suffers from an overly-colored voice, which stands out all the more due to the objective narration that preceded it. Take the following sentences:

took like an hour just to get Fluttershy calm enough to faint

I mean this thing was huge just to help me put it into perspective one wing from the tip to its base equaled the entire Canterlot mountain from tunnels underneath to tip of the tallest tower and I repeat that is one wing!

Grammatical objections aside, the sudden shift to a familiar, colloquial—and first person, even, in the second quote—way of speaking is extremely disturbing to the reader’s sense of immersion. To read through a story, fanfiction or no, a consistency in narration is required. A familiar, first person tone is possible—Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn pulls this off with flair—but in this story, where the established voice is that of a third-person, emotionally distant narrator, there can be few things more turbulent than a shift such as this.

Going back to pacing, there really isn’t enough in between “settling down to observe” and “giant dragon appears” to convince the reader that the two things didn’t just happen in close proximity to one another (chronologically speaking). These scenes feel too rushed—too abridged—to really give the reader a proper sense of time throughout.

As a momentary aside, it’s somewhat puzzling as to why the Mane Six would spend their time observing and “naming” the dragons when Celestia’s original request was to discover the reason for their untimely migration. Why not interview one of the smaller dragons? Why not take specific notes on one of the more unfamiliar species, and cross-reference that with Twilight’s knowledge of dragonkind? There are many avenues that could make sense in this scenario, and unfortunately, Celestia’s letter comes off more as an excuse than a rationale insofar as it propels the plot forward.

And now we come to the pivotal point of the first chapter: the arrival of the dragon. As the final scenes of Chapter One seem to go together, thematically, the dragon in question must be addressed as a whole, rather than piece by piece.

one wing from the tip to its base equaled the entire Canterlot mountain from tunnels underneath to tip of the tallest tower and I repeat that is one wing! Its claws made as long and thick as red woods and teeth that shone almost as bright as the sun. Its scales where colored like blue lighting, claws that could easily hold all of Ponyvile with room to spare.

Going by scale alone, the idea that a dragon of this size could possibly exist is ridiculous; the idea that it could land in or near Ponyville with completely obliterating the surrounding countryside and the town itself entirely inane, if not impossible. Ignoring the objections to its biological feasibility—when discussing dragons, “because magic” can occasionally be an acceptable answer—the collateral damage alone would be immense: unfathomable, even. A beast of this size, travelling at such a speed, would not create a “moderately sized crater”; it would bring about a localized extinction event!

Furthermore, moving onto the “humanoid” version, the description is largely incoherent, and reminiscent of many an amateur’s introduction of an OC. Now, introducing a character can be difficult—tone, atmosphere, and physical appearance are all things that must be weighed and considered—but here, the impression given to the reader is a sense of self-importance that drags the quality of this OC down.

Let’s take a quick look at this dragon’s introduction.

As the dust settled a dragon of 8ft stood in the middle of the creator in a way it looked a bit like Garble but radiated power and wisdom much greater then Princess Celestia could ever have. He wore camo pants with a black sleeveless-t and a sleeveless black trench coat on top of his head was spiky Wight hair sticking straight back and a horn from his forehead that went up a few inches before going parallel to his muzzle.

Once again, ignoring the concentration of spelling errors and grammatical mistakes, this description gets quite a few things wrong:

1.) It compares a new character to an existing character. Namely, Garble. There’s no better way to break immersion in a story than to refer explicitly to a person or object outside of the scene during a third-person, objective narrative. If it were Twilight or Spike comparing him in their heads—and if this were a more personal account, and if either of them actually recalled his name—then it might work, but here, the comparison just falls apart.

2.) It compares an OC to a canon character, and suggests that they are superior to that canon character. This is easily the biggest misstep. Princess Celestia is the closest thing that canon has to a god (capital G or not), and regardless of that fact, she’s indisputably the most coolheaded, regal, and powerful being we’ve met (perhaps excepting Discord re: the last point). Saying that a character—and especially your specific OC—is superior to a canon character in something that said canon character is canonically the best at is an incredibly huge misstep. It’s a classic problem with self-inserts and Mary Sues—it’s like saying that your pegasus OC can fly faster than Rainbow Dash and do three Sonic Rainbooms in a row while making three hurricanes,—oh, and by the way, he’s also an alicorn. This is a clear and, sadly, widespread problem in the fandom, and one that any aspiring author should take great care to avoid.

3.) It gives the character unrealistic physical characteristics. Excepting the “larger than Canterlot Mountain” description from thirty seconds ago, there are quite a few points here that should raise red flags for any careful author. Most ponies don’t wear clothes, and from Dragon Quest, it’s quite apparent that no dragons do. “Camo pants,” “sleeveless t-shirts,” and “black trench coats” are inventions of 20th century Earth, and almost definitely not something that an Equestrian dragon would wear—and especially not the fashion of choice for a being “wiser than Princess Celestia.” And white hair? Dragons don’t have hair, or even fur of any kind. I mean no offense, but this entire description comes off as an author’s wish-fulfillment fantasy of “what would look really cool on my awesome OC.”

Those are the main three problems here. Let’s move on.

The dragon’s ability to follow the Mane Six and then break Twilight’s barrier with ease—Twilight being the Element of Magic and Celestia’s personal student—is also a hallmark of the classic Mary Sue. The fact that he’s so willing to assault a pony’s home, rather than approach them diplomatically (and without causing quite so much fear and panic) casts some very large doubts on the reader’s ability to sympathize or like him as a character, especially given the revelation that comes later. It’s also OOC; it’s unlikely that Spike is being held prisoner here, so what could this dragon possibly have to gain by effectively breaking into Twilight’s house? In the words of Nanny McPhee, he did knock, but that’s effectively nullified by the fact that he had to so thoroughly terrify the ponies beforehand.

The dragon’s first few words to the Mane Six do very little to establish him as a character. Perhaps he’s portrayed as being “polite,” but this is in stark contrast to his prior actions. Furthermore, he jumps right into things without even introducing himself or apologizing for scaring them. This comes off less as a character moment than a piece of clumsy writing—it would seem that the story is trying to “get to the plot” at the expense of characterization, setting, and good prose. This scene is incredibly rushed, and as it’s the climax of the chapter—and thus the story thus far—needs to be the most well-developed scene of all, which is why its actual execution is so disappointing.

To end the chapter, the reader sees him crying and embracing Spike, calling him “brother.” Though instantly recognizing some long-lost sibling is no more contrived than the average Disney/Pixar film, it’s quite the odd thought to think that Spike (barely a hatchling) has a brother (“wiser and more powerful than Celestia”) who instantly knows who he is. There’s no suspension of disbelief here; this situation is completely unbelievable.

This review shan’t go into the second chapter, both because we’re already approaching five thousand words of review here, and because I suspect that I’ve given you enough to work on already. Now, for some words in conclusion.

I understand that English isn't your first language, but the grammar and overall mechanics of this piece are easily its biggest problems. Fix the spelling, fix the punctuation, and fix the syntax, and at the very least, this fic will be readable for the average viewer. After that, you’ll want to take a long, hard look at the characters involved. Are they believable? Are they enjoyable? Take a few minutes to really evaluate if Spike’s brother is a necessary OC, or just a self-insert Mary Sue. Then work on the pacing and the general concepts of storytelling, as I’ve outlined above; this comprises Show, Don’t Tell, Lavender Unicorn Syndrome, and similar ideas.

Once you’ve done all that, then you might have the makings of a story. For now, though, this fic needs a lot of work.

Grade: 0/10 Pinkies

Let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns regarding this review. I’d be more than happy to help.

Cheers!

Golden Vision

WRITE’s Pocket Spycrab