Writing and Editing Services

[JPMallard]

Hey folks, 

I'm a freelancer hoping to find a middle ground for my love of games and my skills as an editor and writer, and I feel as though this may be the place for me! 

My rates are negotiable, and they're reliant on the amount of content I'll be dealing with and the timelines that are in place. In ideal circumstances, I can edit approximately 8,000 words a day, so if you have pages and pages of lore, send it on my way!

I'm easy to work with, and able to step back from my own writing. Your vision is every bit as important to me as ensuring the quality of my work. 

Hope to hear from you! 

 

[Archeia]

Please provide examples of your work.

 

[JPMallard]

For a writing sample, here is an excerpt from a larger, dystopian story that I'm writing. I'm somewhat new here, as well, so if you have any suggestions for other samples that I should supply, please let me know, but this should at least offer some evidence of my command over English spelling and grammar, as well creative prose. Thanks!

~~~~​

“Here, cha banda. Go and play.” Uncle Esta pulled something from his pocket and set it on the table for the little girl.

It was a little wind-up toy. A miniature replica of the automaton guards that patrolled certain areas of the city. It was far from new. In fact, it looked as though it had been rescued from a rubbish heap.

The little girl plucked her treasure from the table and twisted the brass key that jutted from the contraption’s head. With reverence, she set it on the table and let it go. Waiting, and listening.

The little clockwork automaton took a few valiant steps before the expected happened. It juddered to a halt, gears clicking as they slipped, one of its four feet twitching in mid stride.

Without hesitation, the little girl snatched it from the table and ran upstairs. Scarcely a minute later, she was heading back down, lugging a surprisingly large case along with her.

Her mother and Uncle Esta had already disappeared into another room. She could hear them whispering to one another, which might have caught her attention had she not been given such a marvellous toy.

She opened the box at a table more suited to her size and began to pull out an assortment of pliers and screwdrivers, comparing them to the toy, and replacing the ones that weren’t appropriately sized.

With a practiced hand, she carefully opened up the toy’s casing to reveal the damaged parts within.

It was a playground of gear trains and escapements, all huddled around the pretty coil of the mechanism’s mainspring.

She watched and listened to the mechanism devoid of its casing, eyes flashing to the quirks and flaws that were inhibiting its movements.

Once the mainspring had wound down for the fourth time, she grabbed her tools and set to work, removing damaged gears and comparing them with ones from her box that had been salvaged from similarly doomed toys, exchanging them when they matched, filing them down when they didn’t quite. She cleaned the guck out of the workings, and then set to oiling the bits that still seemed to catch.

She replaced and removed the casing several times in this process, and eventually the ‘ton was able to traverse the tabletop without aid. Still, no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get rid of the twitch that plagued every other step the toy took. Not that she minded much. She liked the rhythm it seemed to add. “Ton, ta-ton. Ton, ta-ton. Ton, ta-ton.” She mimicked as it crawled across the table.

When it came to a rest, she grabbed it and ran to the next room to show off her achievement.

“No whispering! You’re under arrest for 'spicion of treason!” The little girl cried, jumping into the room, pretending she was playing a game of 'Tons and Traitors with her friends.

To her dismay, neither her mother nor Uncle Esta laughed.

“That is a horrible thing you have given her, Esta.”

Uncle Esta shrugged. “Cha sorda, it was not my intention. I found it on the way here.”

The little girl was noticeably disappointed at their lack of enthusiasm, so they had her wind it up for them and clapped as she shouted out the rhythm of its brassy legs. “Ton, ta-ton! Ton, ta-ton! Ton, ta-ton!”