I just (this week) found a new app – it’s basically a self-publishing platform where The Internet can comment on your work once you’ve uploaded it and exposed your soft underbelly, without the aid of an experienced editor to spare your blushes. I have yet to expose my own underbelly, but in the immediate short term am sampling others’ work, and enjoying it.<\/p>\n
In some ways I’m finding it oddly inspirational – I’m thinking about what I like and don’t like about what I’m reading, thinking about how I might do it better, which bits I like, which bits ring like clanging clich\u00e9s, and so on.<\/p>\n
It’s spurred me on to finish the ending of the short novel\/story I’ve been writing myself over a few years, and to appreciate that although it’s not finished-finished and I’m not super-happy with the middle of it, it’s a damn sight better than some of the dross out there, even if I do say so myself. So, I have an ending and am about to let Other people read it. This feels like a big step. A very exposing step… we’ll see how it turns out, eh.<\/p>\n
The other thing I’ve been inspired to do is rewrite at least one scene that I read and thought was a nadge unrealistic and could be done, if not better, then differently. This is not-from 12 seconds<\/em> by tall_girl<\/a> (just realised that if she’s tall, she could probably take me in a fight. Oh well, at least this is the internet and she doesn’t know where I live…) which is an interesting and compelling read – I’m going ahead and reading the prequel in spite of the shortcomings of 12 seconds, which are mainly consistency when referring to characters’ by name and the armed forces. This should be thought of as exploratory fan-fic rather than a criticism.<\/p>\n Anyhow – here is my re-work of chapter 7, part 1<\/a>. I’ve tried to make it work as a stand-alone piece so hopefully isn’t too confusing…:<\/p>\n Julia pushed the last piece of bacon around her plate, not wanting to finish. Finishing meant she would have to leave the caf\u00e9 and go home. Home to the family who last night she discovered had been lying to her for the past two years about who she was, and how she lost her memory. She sat there, as she toyed with the bacon, her long, dark hair creating a protective barrier between her and the rest of the world. The caf\u00e9 was small, but impersonal if you wanted it to be. Greyed formica table-tops and elderly plastic yellow chairs echoed of brighter days, before the extractor fans were coated with grease and the spoons bent out of shape.<\/p>\n She was about to spear the bacon and lift it to her mouth, when a cloud of second-hand alcohol invaded her space.<\/p>\n \u201cHey there,\u201d a man slurred, as he rested his hands on the side of the table and leaned in until she had no choice but to smell his whisky-laden breath, \u201cFancy grabbing a coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Julia spoke in a monotone, not even looking at him, as she lifted the last piece of bacon towards her mouth.<\/p>\n \u201cCome on,\u201d the man with three days\u2019 worth of stubble and dry eyes grinned, the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk, \u201cwe could get crazy.\u201d He started to chuckle softly, and Julie felt her stomach turn over at the suggestion.<\/p>\n \u201cWe wouldn\u2019t get \u2018crazy\u2019, as you call it,\u201d Julie tilted her head to the side so he could tell exactly how much he repulsed her, \u201cif we were the last two people on earth.\u201d<\/p>\n Julie waited for those words to sink in before she continued. She could see the cogs whirring as he tried to process what she had said.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, please leave me alone.\u201d<\/p>\n Julia realised she had overstepped the mark when the smirk vanished from his lips, and his eyes grew dark. His hand whipped out with surprising speed, given the air of whisky about him, and gripped her upper arm to drag her out of her seat and to her feet.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did you say, girlie?\u201d They were nose-to-nose.<\/p>\n And then, before Julia knew what she was doing, the drunk was nose-to-floor, and she was astride him (in a not-getting-crazy-well-not-in-that-way way), his arm twisted behind his back, and her bacon-fork pressed lovingly into his neck where, she presumed, his carotid artery was closest to the surface. Muscle memory is a wonderful <\/em>thing, she thought, wryly. She heard crockery smashing, as she had clearly attracted the attention of the staff behind the counter.<\/p>\n \u201cI said,\u201d Julia growled from behind clenched teeth, \u201cplease leave me alone.\u201d<\/p>\n The drunk struggled, but found, to the surprise of everyone involved, that he couldn\u2019t move. Julia, having no idea how she had managed to achieve this \u201cvictory\u201d, now realised she had no idea what to do next. She felt the presence of someone standing behind her, and she half-turned to face them, then froze.<\/p>\n It was the man from the park. Marc.<\/p>\n The man whose unexpected birthday card to her mother had kicked off this whole who-am-I episode.<\/p>\n Her former fianc\u00e9, apparently, if only her amnesiac brain could allow her to grasp that fact.<\/p>\n \u201cAllow me?\u201d He gestured towards the man on the floor, with an open, uplifted palm. Julia looked from his hand to her fork, still pressed into the man\u2019s neck, then back. She, somewhat awkwardly, put the fork onto the table next to her, and took Marc\u2019s offered hand, to steady her to standing. It wasn\u2019t a big caf\u00e9, and there wasn\u2019t a load of space between the tables. They wound up standing quite close to each other.<\/p>\n It was weird for her to think they had been so intimate, and yet she couldn\u2019t remember a thing about him. She clocked that as she stood up, her recently reinstated dog tags had escaped from under her top. She saw Marc\u2019s eyes land on them, and they exchanged a glance of understanding.<\/p>\n He knew that she at least knew the basic facts, if nothing else.<\/p>\n \u201cCome on, Reynolds,\u201d he grinned, \u201clet\u2019s get out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n The use of her surname broke the tension between them. Julia nodded. She needed to ask him some questions. Questions her family either couldn\u2019t, or weren\u2019t willing to, answer. She wanted answers, but now that there was a risk she might get some, her heart started beating faster. Did she really<\/strong> want to know?<\/p>\n \u201cI know a place,\u201d Julia zipped up her hoodie, tucking the dog tags back in, and led Marc out of the caf\u00e9.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I just (this week) found a new app – it’s basically a self-publishing platform where The Internet can comment on your work once you’ve uploaded it and exposed your soft underbelly, without the aid of an experienced editor to spare … Continue reading