Bob’s been tied up with personal matters so we didn’t meet in Campfire today, but he posted his scene, the second scene in the book, for me there and I went through it. Good stuff. Then I went back and looked at my first scene and thought, “Was I on drugs when I wrote that?” and started over. It’s better now. Still not good but better. Then I wrote the third scene and it’s really bad which means tomorrow, after I get Bob’s next scene, I’ll probably throw it out and do something else. Or at least fix it.
In other news, the ugliest spider in the world is crawling around somewhere on my desk. I saw him on the wall, but i have a live-and-let-live deal with everything in the universe except cockroaches (and ants, but only when they’re in my kitchen). So I kept an eye on him and then got caught up in my scene, which is why five minutes later I screamed when he walked across my desk. At least I hope it was him. If not, there are TWO of the suckers.
I’m cleaning this office tomorrow. Bleah.
The biggest thing I realized when I read my first scene again was that I had the worst opening line in the history of openign lines:
Mary Imogen brushed the rosy glaze over the cheeks of the old carved wood clown, marveling all over again at the workmanship.
Really, I must have been brain dead or something. Talk about boring.
The rewrite is this:
There aren’t a lot of epiphanies in amusement parks, if you don’t count the people who get to the top of the Super Screamer Roller Coaster and think, “Wait–,” mostly because there’s too much to see and do and eat for any real soul searching.
I know. Omniscient. About to go into third limited in the next sentence. But still, not good.
Just better than that other disaster.
I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it . . .
Addendum:
It crawled up the wall and I killed it. It was taunting me.
Please God, it did not come from a large family.