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Needed: One editor - someone with good command of the English language!
Teala
Member RarePosts: 7,627
OK...which one of you thinks you are good enough to edit my future novel. I need someone. Someone that loves sci-fi, and is exceptionally well versed in the way of grammar, spelling and punctuation. Seriously...I am in dire need of such a person. I might even be willing to make it worth your while. Just contact me here.
Comments
I'd do it but I don't think fit your description. Seeing as how English is not my native language but my third... or was it fourth one... I stopped keeping track, I don't think I'd work out. I would gladly help you (with absolutely no cost to you!
) but my confidence in my command of the English language is not 100%.
Oh, and HI by the way.
No required quests! And if I decide I want to be an assassin-cartographer-dancer-pastry chef who lives only to stalk and kill interior decorators, then that's who I want to be, even if it takes me four years to max all the skills and everyone else thinks I'm freaking nuts. -Madimorga-
Hark, wherefore dost thou require yon sage, fair Teala? Methinks thou hast queried unto hither medium forsooth.
I am forlorn!
How's that for command? Not bad, huh? But, alas, I don't think I am your man. I'm not skilled in the art of editing. Perhaps an English grad student at your local university? Skoal!
Is there money involved? I've taken College Composition before, and I believe I'm fairly versed in English and at writing.
--------------------------
Playing:
FFXIV, TERA, LoL, and HoTS
My Rig:
GPU: GeForce GTX 770, CPU: i7-4790K, Memory: 16 GB RAM
Oh, and the title should read "someone with a good command of the English language"
My downfall is that I'm self-taught, I have a special place in my heart for dashes seen here ----> -
, and I despise the semi-colon -----> ; 
So, as you can see, I can never be your editor
One of the reasons I joined this forum was to improve my grammar, spelling and punctuation.
"The liberties and resulting economic prosperity that YOU take for granted were granted by those "dead guys"
I really wish I could help. but I literally have so much going on now that I don't think I would be able to find the time to read a good sci fi novel
. I do however write my own articles and reviews for gaming on other websites and such - not here due to all the rediculous flaminf. *ahem*
Sorry
- If someone else though from my studio is willing too, I will send them your way. I'll ask at the next meeting I hold.( of course if you haven't found someone already. )
www.roxstudiodesigns.com
I'd be interested in reading it just to see your approach to plot devices, continuity logistics and pseudo-science (which *is* the heart of sci-fi). My spelling is impeccable, though I'm sure you used a program that will handle errors in that department, and what you are most interested in is grammar, which I'm pretty good at when proofreading... not so much when on a roll myself though. Like the others though, I'm self taught, so I can guarantee you that you'd need a 3rd proofread even though I'd be sure to clean it up quite a bit.
Normally I wouldn't even ask, but I'm in a lull and figure this would be good editing practice, as well as incentive to hop back on the horse. Whenever I hit a brick wall I start a new project as a break from it, but have yet to actually go back and finish what I started. It sucks, but on the bright side I've oozing out new concepts left and right these days.
Writer / Musician / Game Designer
Now Playing: Skyrim, Wurm Online, Tropico 4
Waiting On: GW2, TSW, Archeage, The Rapture
Eye R Gana Hep Uz Widh Yoz FInnny Nook.
Wait might do better else where
Good luck
If ye love wealth greater than liberty, the tranquility of servitude; greater than the animating contest for freedom, go home from us in peace. We seek not your counsel, nor your arms. Crouch down and lick the hand that feeds you; May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen.
Samuel Adams
OK. Then just read this. This is the opening to it. Tell me what you think. It's all you're going to get until I get it published. Which by the way is not easy in this day and age. Plus, I may have to change some things seeing how this is a story based on the EVE Universe and they may not give a thumbs up to having it published as a novel about EVE. In that case I'll do a quick re-write and change any references to EVE in it and still have my book. CCP doesn't own sci-fi, space, star ships and other planets. LOL! Anyway...here is the opening...feel free to read it and tell me what you think.
***************
“Some say, that in space, nobody can hear you scream --- but that is not true.”
“It's not true because for the briefest of moments, just before a ship’s hull is breached, and all the air is sucked out into space, you can hear their screams.”
“Their calls for assistance, and maydays, come over the local transit and emergency channels all the time. One day it’s a miner, the next it's a courier, then a salvager, or a transport captain. Their screams are real and I can hear them -- as does anybody else, who listens.”
“The smart ones listen, because we wish to live another day, and those that don’t --- you eventually hear them, too.”
“And the one thing we’re all thinking when those screams are replaced by dead-air or static, ‘I’m glad it was them --- and not me.’ ”
“I know...I know -- you were expecting me to mention God somewhere in there, didn’t you? But most who travel the transport lanes gave up believing in God many hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. Oh sure, it’s nice to think that there is a God, and that he and his angels are watching over you. We’ve all heard the stories before, the believers still thump the scriptures of text from ancient holy writings to this day...but some of us know the truth. God isn’t going to watch your back out here in the void, because there is no God, it’s all up to you: your skills as a pilot, your ship, a good scanner, keeping your eyes and ears open to the channels, and just plain luck."
The girl talked with one of her hands as much as she did with her mouth, moving it here and there(very fluidly) like a director of a musical orchestra, using the gestures to punctuate her vocalized thoughts.
"I am lucky, or at least I think I am, and I just happen to be one of the best transport pilots around. There’s nothing I can’t fly and there isn’t anything I won’t transport. Girls got to make a living. It’s not cheap keeping a huge bird like this flying from system to system, with maintenance cost, parts needing replaced, new upgrades coming online and what not, and then there is fuel; that always makes your wallet a lot lighter. So my motto is, ‘Just tell me where to pick it up and where to drop it off --- thirty percent up-front, and the rest upon delivery --- for the right price of course, no questions asked.’ ”
“Cliché...perhaps, but I’m only speaking the truth, the same truth spoken by traders and transporters since forever. One thing is certain, though, people do not change, and neither do the same old cliché’s by which we live. People are a constant: we live, we do stuff, we die - simple as that. In the end...it really doesn’t mean anything. So best enjoy it now, because what comes next is still being discussed by committee."
She paused a moment to take a sip of whatever was in the cup she'd been cradling in her right hand.
"By the way, my name is Jenna Kitamora --- I mean --- if you are wondering. People that know me tend to just call me Jen, though. I am half Amarrian, half Vherokior, born of the family Kitamora of the Ni-Kunnis, from the planet Zaveral, and I’m a border runner.”
Her vocal inflections seemed to change as she continued to speak. Maybe it was because she was changing the subject matter away from the darker aspects of traveling through space.
“My father married a desert woman of the Vherokior on one of his many trade trips to Gomati. Supposedly he got drunk one night --- and well, ...you know the story, it’s been told a thousand times, in thousand life stories, over countless millennia, and mine isn’t much different in that department. But I digress, I don’t know if heritage makes a person what they are, but as for me, it’s in my blood and it must have influenced me because I am a pilot and a trader and I love it. So...like my father and his father’s father, before him, I took to a ship like an nu-otter does to water. We were born to travel the stars and there is nothing I love more than to be traversing them, wondering where I’ll be going on the next trip --- that and making a ton a money hauling other people’s belongings around."
Jenna took another drink from the cup.
“Speaking of money, you can’t do anything without the ISK. The problem with me is, that when I have it, it burns a hole in my pocket so fast...I mean --- come on, there is so many things to see and do, and casinos, and men, and having fun, and men, and casinos, and then there are --- yep you guessed it ---- men. I know some would call me a slut."
Jen rolled her eyes, her head fell slightly to one side, resting her cheek on her shoulder, “I’ve heard it all before, people preaching their self-righteous, holier than though nonsense about how a woman is supposed to act. You know the ones. What do they know anyway? Hmmm? I ask you seriously. Come on...”
Jenna stared at the screen as if she were looking at a real person. Then she started to speak again, moving her left hand through the air toward the communication console and looking away with her eyes.
She continued to speak.
“Take my home world for instance. It is not looked down upon for a wealthy man, or woman for that matter, to have multiple life partners. In fact it is encouraged. Keeps everyone happy. You don’t see the Ni-Kunnis out starting wars do you? No you don’t. Why? Because we don’t have any hang ups about sex, or who and how many we have it with. Besides, life is too short, I mean you can only be cloned so many times and eventually the body does degrade. Look at me.” She pointed at herself.
“With my kind of looks you’d think I was fresh from the crib, right? You’d be wrong. I am 65 years old, young by most other people’s standards; cloned my share of times --- so I’ve been around, done some things here, and other things there. You know...the usual for a trader who spends ninety percent of their time flying from star system to star system. It’s that other ten percent of the time that really matters while you're still breathing. It’s in those times when we burn our brightest, and let me tell you --- sometimes I really shine.”
A grin formed on her lips and there was a glint in her eye as she giggled, tinged with an air of subdued wildness as she gazed at the view monitor. “I’ll let you use your imagination there --- to fill in the blanks...no need for details if you read your scanner right.” She made a funny scrunching face, then took another sip from the cup.
She sat up in her chair placing the cup on the console in front of her. “Few more things before I go. We’re still heading on course, after a short stop-over in Nonni to pick up a couple of hard to get parts, and supplies, and should be back in Amarr space within a few hours heading out to Kador Prime. Taking the safe route this time. I’m not in the mood to be messing with rats right now. So this trip is no short jaunt. By the time we hit Kador the Gypsy will have made twenty-seven jumps. She can handle it though --- she’s a tough old bird. Ships systems are all nominal and the core is purring like a kitten.”
“Anyway...I have be going. I’ll catch you up in the next log. This is Jenna Kitamora, captain of the Star Gypsy, signing off.”
The girl, God she looked so young --- she must be lying or she has excellent genes, he corrected his line of thinking --- as the "woman" on the view screen stood and reached for the switch that would shut the ships log recording system off. But then she hesitated, and leaned in close to the camera capturing her visual input. Her face now filled the view screen, and for the first time he could see her up close.
She was beautiful..., for a 65-year-old that is. Her light grey eyes stood out from the thick black eyeliner that surrounded them. She had a cute little nose between high cheek bones, and beautiful smile. Her dark brown hair, laced with gold streaks, lightly spilled about her shoulders; like fine silken threads. Some of it had fallen across the front of her tanned colored face. She quickly gathered it with her hand to push it aside and tuck behind her ear.
The recording continued. “Oh and one last thing. Just so you know, I don’t always talk like that. So whoever is viewing this ships log some day, I’ll let you in on a little secret...”
She put her forefinger in front of her face, motioning with it, as if to get the viewer to look closer. Then she lowered her hand and leaned on the console, putting her nose as close to the camera as possible; without actually touching it, so as not to distort her image.
“Really, just so you know..." she turned her head to look to the left, and then the right, and finally back to the camera with a wicked little grin,"...spending more than seventy-two hours, with a nice looking hard-rock-mining guy from some shit-hole moon, in a casino full of humanity’s least finest, drinking the strongest liquor this side of Jove, pumping the occasional endorphin booster, and getting very little sleep can really fuck with your brain. So forgive me if I sound like I’m missing a few IQ points here.” Her face left the view screen as the sound of laughter filled the air and then she was gone in the blink of an eye. The viewing monitor went dark.
Samuel Sebastian had seen many a ships logs before, but none quite like this one, and for the first time in all of his years as a salvager he actually wanted to see more. She was cute, ...she was interesting, and she was probably dead --- really dead, as in no clone. She was too far out(they’d barely picked up the remains of the ship on the long-range scan, which was six parsecs from the edge of the cluster) and because she wasn't in her pod it seems --- yeah she was probably really dead.
He wondered...did anyone hear her scream?
********
Do you really want honesty? I felt my IQ spiraling downwards as I continued reading.
It was horrid. The grammar is the least of your worries. I felt as if I was reading something written by a seventh grade remedial English student. If you somehow manage to get it published, I weep for the trees which would be disgraced with the words of your rape of literature.
Dekron I do not care for what you have to say. You've always had something shoved bewteen your cheeks about me for the longest time. Doesn't matter what I post...you'd find something negative to say.
Whether you care, or not, it was still horrible. Some people have talent for literature, others do not. You should stick with the stripper pole.
So then if that is bad...then I guess this is bad, too -- huh?
I know a place where there is no smog and no parking problem and no population explosion...no Cold War and no H-bombs and no television commercials....and no Summit Conferences, no Foreign Aid, no hidden taxes -- no income tax. The climate is the sort that Florida and California claim (and neither has), the land is lovely, the people are friendly and hospitable to strangers, the women are beautiful and amazingly anxious to please....
I could go back. I could---
It was an election year with the customary theme of anything you can do I can do better, to a background of beeping sputniks. I was twenty-one but couldn't figure out which party to vote against. Instead I phoned my draft board and told them to send me that notice.
I object to conscription the way a lobster objects to boiling water: It may be his finest hour but it's not his choice. Nevertheless I love my country. Yes, I do, despite propoganda all through school about how patriotism is obsolete. One of my great-grandfathers died at Gettysburg and my father made that long walk back from Chosen Reservoir, so I didn't buy this new idea. I argued against it in class--until it got me a "D," in Social Studies, then I shut up and passed the course.
But I didn't change my opinions to match those of a teacher who didn't know Little Round Top from Seminary Ridge.
Are you of my generation? if not, do you know why we turned out so wrong-headed? Or did you just write us off as "juvenile delinquents?" I could write a book, Brother!
I write moviescripts as a hobby. And i know how important re-writing is. Some writers rewrite something atleast twenty times before publishing. Some do it seventy times.
But english is not my first language, otherwise i would be happy to help you. If you want, storywise i can give feedback!
I just wish to have some feed back from some people I guess. I've written lots and lots of stuff and never really tried to get anything I've written published because I just don't know if I am all that good or not. Dekron doesn't count. He just dislikes me. Doesn't matter what I have posted in the past on these forums he just like to rag on me. But for any others...please...feel free to speak up. If I really do suck - then so be it...I'll just keep writing and trying harder.
I'm not simply trying to "rag" on you. You just post stupid shit and you are called on it. I've posted stupid shit myself and have received the same courtesy. If you were to be equated with an alternate account, I would peg you as xpowderx.
What about that other sample of writing? No comment? Bad -- good?
The second sample was better than the first in my opinion. Especially stylistically. Spelling and punctuation can always be corrected later but writing style is where the art lies.
Did you write both?
Are you wanting me to comment on your plagiarization of Heinlein?
No I was wondering what you thought of one of his stories that people said the same thing you said about my writing. Should I quote some of the critics reviews of Glory Road for you? Also...do you really think I would plagiarize one of the most well know sci-fi authors? Seriously...get real. I was just curious if you thought his writings were that of a 7th grader? Because many people did and yet Glory Road is one of his best sellers of all time.
By the way Dekron...going to take an actual editor, critique writer and authors own suggestion when it comes to you from now on.
Ignore the Idiots
You know the type — never has anything nice to say about anyone or anything. The punk-ass who could use a few courses in anger management. These folks abound in forums and on message boards because they can spew their venom behind anonymity and disguise it as a writing critique. They’re not going to offer much other than you suck and so does your poem. Even if this is true, the feedback is useless because there’s nothing in it that you can use to make improvements, and therefore you cannot grow as an artist. Don’t get caught up in the drama! Ignore and move on.
So you have a nice day. ^_^
Ignore the idiots is a good outlook.
Always write with the goal of writing it for yourself first, don't think in terms of making it big. Art will get muddled if you are thinking of things other than what you are attempting to accomplish. In the end you may have it only for yourself and your friends but it will be a reflection of you which is what matters most.
As to the editing, I typically write first and ignore most of the rules. A few parts were rough but nothing was hard for me to read at all.
As to the story itself, it was a bit in some styles I use myself at times. I won't say I loved it but I didn't hate it either, it is setup it seems to have the salvager take over as the main character going forward. You have to write very carefully when portraying an overly cute, naughty type of girl. That type of character can put a lot of people off quickly since they can quickly become not very believable.
Kudos for posting it here, I have thought a bit of posting some of my short stories here sometime.
It's difficult to grow artistic talent if you only possess a wilted seed. Why provide feedback when it is undeserving?
Hey I have no idea what your story is about, but I would be happy to check it for technical problems, aka physics, chemistry or engineering type stuff. I read dozens of books on space, not sci-fi books although I’ve read tons of those too, real books on space physics, and aerospace. I'm almost graduated as a mechanical engineer so I should know most basic technical things. So if your story has technical issues I can help you with that or maybe even offer ideas. My spelling is absolute shit, and my grammar is just average but I like to think I could help with keeping your story logical.
-for the overmind.
You suck, and so does your poem.
Edit: But I still wuv you.
-Letting Derek Smart work on your game is like letting Osama bin Laden work in the White House. Something will burn.-
-And on the 8th day, man created God.-
First, I would put this in italics to indicate someone speaking perhaps, instead of quotations, since it's one long speech. Other suggestions are bracketed inside your work.
***************
“Some say, that in space, nobody can hear you scream --- but that is not true.”
“It's not true because for the briefest of moments, just before a ship’s hull is breached, [not sure this comma is needed here, but I wouldn't call it awful, either] and all the air is sucked out into space, you can hear their screams.”
“Their calls for assistance, and maydays, come over the local transit and emergency channels all the time. One day it’s a miner, the next it's a courier, then a salvager, or a transport captain. Their screams are real and I can hear them -- [as to these dashes, they are unusual in today's writing, and I don't suggest you use them more than once or twice, as it can jar the reader out of your work. Anything that takes attention from your story and puts it on the way its written is always bad. You never want to your reader to pause and think, 'how clever of the writer to do such and so] as does anybody else, who listens.”
[Breaking this into a new paragraph doesn't work for me, I'd leave it as the end of the last one] “The smart ones listen, because we wish to live another day, and those that don’t --- you eventually hear them, too.”
“And the one thing we’re all thinking when those screams are replaced by dead-air or static, ‘I’m glad it was them --- and not me.’ ”
“I know...I know -- you were expecting me to mention God somewhere in there, didn’t you? But most who travel the transport lanes gave up believing in God many hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. Oh sure, it’s nice to think that there is a God, and that he and his angels are watching over you. We’ve all heard the stories before, the believers still thump the scriptures of text [I'd either take out the words 'the scriptures' or the words 'of text', both is redundant] from ancient holy writings to this day...but some of us know the truth. God isn’t going to watch your back out here in the void, because there is no God, it’s all up to you: your skills as a pilot, your ship, a good scanner, keeping your eyes and ears open to the channels, and just plain luck."
The girl talked [spoke works better than talked here for me, also, I'd put this in sooner, and if you do, then you can go ahead and use those quotation marks, but this does read like a prologue] with one of her hands as much as she did with her mouth, moving it here and there(very fluidly) like a director of a musical orchestra, using the gestures to punctuate her vocalized thoughts.
"I am lucky, or at least I think I am, and I just happen to be one of the best transport pilots around. There’s nothing I can’t fly and there isn’t anything I won’t transport. Girls [it's girl's I believe if you're going to contract it like this, improper, but often used] got to make a living. It’s not cheap keeping a huge bird like this flying from system to system, with maintenance cost, parts needing replaced, new upgrades coming online and what not, and then there is fuel; that always makes your wallet a lot lighter. So my motto is, ‘Just tell me where to pick it up and where to drop it off --- thirty percent up-front, and the rest upon delivery --- for the right price of course, no questions asked.’ ”
“Cliché... [these elipses here don't work for me] perhaps, but I’m only speaking the truth, the same truth spoken by traders and transporters since forever. One thing is certain, though, people do not change, and neither do the same old cliché’s by which we live. People are a constant: we live, we do stuff, we die - simple as that. In the end...it really doesn’t mean anything. So best enjoy it now, because what comes next is still being discussed by committee."
She paused a moment to take a sip of whatever was in the cup [if you don't want to tell us what's in the cup, just tell us she takes a sip or describe the contents] she'd been cradling in her right hand.
"By the way, my name is Jenna Kitamora --- I mean --- if you are wondering. People that know me tend to just call me Jen, though. I am half Amarrian, half Vherokior, born of the family Kitamora of the Ni-Kunnis, from the planet Zaveral, and I’m a border runner.”
Her vocal inflections seemed to change as she continued to speak. Maybe it was because she was changing the subject matter away from the darker aspects of traveling through space.
“My father married a desert woman of the Vherokior on one of his many trade trips to Gomati. Supposedly he got drunk one night --- and well, ...you know the story, it’s been told a thousand times, in thousand life stories, over countless millennia, and mine isn’t much different in that department. But I digress, I don’t know if heritage makes a person what they are, but as for me, it’s in my blood and it must have influenced me because I am a pilot and a trader and I love it. So...like my father and his father’s father, before him, I took to a ship like an nu-otter does to water. We were born to travel the stars and there is nothing I love more than to be traversing them, wondering where I’ll be going on the next trip --- that and making a ton a money hauling other people’s belongings around."
Jenna took another drink from the cup.
“Speaking of money, you can’t do anything without the ISK. [Okay, so this is an Eve novel. You know the rules on getting one of these published, I presume. You have to get a deal with them, go through whoever publishes their books, etc. You probably already know this, though] The problem with me is, that when I have it, it burns a hole in my pocket so fast...I mean --- come on, there is so many things to see and do, and casinos, and men, and having fun, and men, and casinos, and then there are --- yep you guessed it ---- men. I know some would call me a slut."
Jen rolled her eyes, her head fell slightly to one side, resting her cheek on her shoulder, [is she having a seizure? This isn't clear to me] “I’ve heard it all before, people preaching their self-righteous, holier than though nonsense about how a woman is supposed to act. You know the ones. What do they know anyway? Hmmm? I ask you seriously. Come on...”
Jenna stared at the screen as if she were looking at a real person. Then she started to speak again, moving her left hand through the air toward the communication console and looking away with her eyes.
She continued to speak.
“Take my home world for instance. It is not looked down upon for a wealthy man, or woman for that matter, to have multiple life partners. In fact it is encouraged. Keeps everyone happy. You don’t see the Ni-Kunnis out starting wars do you? No you don’t. Why? Because we don’t have any hang ups about sex, or who and how many we have it with. Besides, life is too short, I mean you can only be cloned so many times and eventually the body does degrade. Look at me.” She pointed at herself.
“With my kind of looks you’d think I was fresh from the crib, right? You’d be wrong. I am 65 years old, young by most other people’s standards; cloned my share of times --- so I’ve been around, done some things here, and other things there. You know...the usual for a trader who spends ninety percent of their time flying from star system to star system. It’s that other ten percent of the time that really matters while you're still breathing. It’s in those times when we burn our brightest, and let me tell you --- sometimes I really shine.”
A grin formed on her lips and there was a glint in her eye as she giggled, [put 'a giggle' here] tinged with an air of subdued wildness as she gazed at the view monitor. [This seems to have her doing a bit much in one sentence. Skip the grin or the giggle, or the glint, imo] “I’ll let you use your imagination there --- to fill in the blanks...no need for details if you read your scanner right.” She made a funny scrunching face, then took another sip from the cup.
She sat up in her chair placing the cup on the console in front of her. “Few more things before I go. We’re still heading on course, after a short stop-over in Nonni to pick up a couple of hard to get parts, and supplies, and should be back in Amarr space within a few hours heading out to Kador Prime. Taking the safe route this time. I’m not in the mood to be messing with rats right now. So this trip is no short jaunt. By the time we hit Kador the Gypsy will have made twenty-seven jumps. She can handle it though --- she’s a tough old bird. Ships systems are all nominal and the core is purring like a kitten.”
“Anyway...I have be going. I’ll catch you up in the next log. This is Jenna Kitamora, captain of the Star Gypsy, signing off.”
The girl, God she looked so young --- she must be lying or she has excellent genes, he corrected his line of thinking --- as the "woman" on the view screen stood and reached for the switch that would shut the ships log recording system off. But then she hesitated, and leaned in close to the camera capturing her visual input. Her face now filled the view screen, and for the first time he could see her up close.
She was beautiful..., for a 65-year-old that is [at 65 she still was beautiful would work better here, and spell out the 65, I believe spelling out numbers below 100 as standard in writing]. Her light [get rid of light, they're either grey or dark grey, light is implied by the very nature of the color grey if you don't put in dark. In fact, get rid of as many adjectives and adverbs as you can throughout your novel, it makes the writing stronger] grey eyes stood out from the thick black eyeliner that surrounded them. She had a cute little nose between high cheek bones, and [a] beautiful smile. Her dark brown hair, laced with gold streaks, lightly spilled about her shoulders; like fine silken threads. Some of it had fallen across the front of her tanned colored [get rid of colored here, just tanned works fine] face. She quickly gathered it with her hand to push it aside and tuck behind her ear. [when you describe her hair, put the description as part of the action, and shorten it up. We're getting too much description in too small a space here.]
The recording continued. “Oh and one last thing. Just so you know, I don’t always talk like that. So whoever is viewing this ships [apostrophe 's for ship's log, isn't it? Could be wrong on that one] log some day, I’ll let you in on a little secret...”
She put her forefinger in front of her face, motioning with it, as if to get the viewer to look closer. Then she lowered her hand and leaned on the console, putting her nose as close to the camera as possible; without actually touching it, so as not to distort her image.
“Really, just so you know..." she turned her head to look to the left, and then the right, and finally back to the camera with a wicked little grin,"...spending more than seventy-two hours, with a nice looking hard-rock-mining guy from some shit-hole moon, in a casino full of humanity’s least finest, drinking the strongest liquor this side of Jove, pumping the occasional endorphin booster, and getting very little sleep can really fuck with your brain. So forgive me if I sound like I’m missing a few IQ points here.” Her face left the view screen as the sound of laughter filled the air and then she was gone in the blink of an eye. The viewing monitor went dark. [Am I supposed to dislike this character? Because I'm starting to. She's coming off as a braggart and self-absorbed. Maybe you could hint some things she's saying by description instead of having her say them, and maybe some of it doesn't need to be said at all. It's your story, and you have to know every detail of her background that might be relevent (and probably plenty that isn't) but the reader doesn't need to know a tenth of it and doesn't want to.]
Samuel Sebastian had seen many a ships logs before, but none quite like this one, and for the first time in all of his years as a salvager he actually wanted to see more. She was cute, ...she was interesting, and she was probably dead --- really dead, as in no clone. She was too far out(they’d barely picked up the remains of the ship on the long-range scan, which was six parsecs from the edge of the cluster) and because she wasn't in her pod it seems --- yeah she was probably really dead.
He wondered...did anyone hear her scream?
********
My guess is, this isn't really the beginning of your novel. I mean, it is, for you, but the reader doesn't need most of this. Too much background info and too much character development on a character who we aren't going to meet as an active participant for many pages, I'm guessing. I'd shorten this up considerably and get into the action. It's fine that you wrote it, that's how novels get written, but then it's time to start cutting.
There are dozens of good how to write books that can help with your editing. Write Tight is one, Orson Scott Card's Character and Viewpoint is excellent, Fiction First Aid is a decent one, too. There is also one I forgot the name of by the same company that published Character and Viewpoint that is specifically for editing. I'd grab those and whatever else at the local bookstore catches your eye and then dive back in, edit everything you can with the help of those books, then find your readers, then make corrections based on any (detailed and intelligent) suggestions you recieve, then head back and edit again, rinse and repeat. Editing can be sort of fun when you get into it, don't let it discourage or overwhelm you. All drafts (especially first ones) exist for editing, by yourself first, then with help. Good luck, and don't let the trolls discourage you. Most people never start to write a novel, of those who do, few finish, of those who do, almost none are ever published. It's a tough business, I wish I could say I was one of the few success stories, but I'm not, so take my suggestions for whatever they're worth and carry on. I like your nonfiction writing, so I think you're a good writer. Writers don't usually get paid much if anything, but writers love what they do, so carry on!
I am convinced there is only one way to eliminate these grave evils, namely through the establishment of a socialist economy, accompanied by an educational system which would be oriented toward social goals.
~Albert Einstein