The editing thing–going smoothly. The rewrite is actually something I’m enjoying a great deal, because now that I feel reconnected with the characters, and this part of the story, it’s coming along fine. Once I get over the feeling of exhaustion that I have nearly every night. Hormones, baby: they aren’t always your friend.
How I’ve set up everything, though, how I planed out this section of the story, once I start editing and rewriting, the words seem to come naturally. Having my little break marks in the story to show me where things should go help a great deal, too.
And what is in that below area? Just look:
(Excerpt from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)
It wasn’t something she wanted to discuss; Annie knew Kerry was curious about their outing yesterday, but she wanted to put the day behind her. “I’d rather not—”
Given that he’d said please—and was looking at her with big, moist, pleading eyes—Annie relented. “Well, then: first there was Collin—” She rolled her eyes. “There’s three of us, and he’s the boy, so he has to have the map. After fifteen minutes he had no idea where we were—in part because he had the map upside down. I finally grabbed it from him and got everyone to the tailor’s shop.”
Kerry could almost see Annie pulling one of the small, printed maps from Collin’s hand and indicating what direction they were suppose to go. “I don’t imagine he was happy with that.”
She half-closed her eyes and hurmped. “He’s a silly boy. He’s a small child from a small town, and a large city like London is far too much for him to handle.”
“Yeah, I can believe that. And what about Alica?”
“Oh, her: all she did was complain—about everything.”
Kerry shrugged. “She’s from Scotland, so that’s pretty normal for her.”
Annie held her breath for a few moments, then burst out laughing. “How can you say that?” She giggled some more. “But she did complain constantly. It began wearing after a while.”
He nodded in agreement. “I noticed that last night. It’s like a sport with her: see how quickly she can wear down everyone else.”
“I didn’t seem to bother you, though.”
“Yeah, well . . .” He tilted his head from side to side while sipping his smoothie. “I’m good at tuning out people after a while.” He sat back in his chair and drew a deep breath. “I get a lot of practice at home.”
Annie didn’t want to bring up this part of his life; after all, she’d heard and seen enough to know his home life was less than ideal . . . “You weren’t tuning me out today, were you?”
“You?” His face darkened as he shook his head. “No, not at all.”
“I did prattle on a bit.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She leaned the slightest over their table. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He shook his head quickly, his eyes now affixed upon hers. “You weren’t talking that much. I think I was talking more than you.”
“You were asking a lot of questions.”
“Quite a lot.”
The corners of his mouth turned downward. “Yeah, but, I mean—”
Annie didn’t want to string the boy along too much longer. “Kerry—”
He blinked a couple of times, his face stone still. “Really?”
“Yes.” She started to reach across the table, then stopped herself. “I liked talking with you today. And I like the silence we shared. It was . . .” Annie glanced upward as she shrugged. “Perfect. Don’t you think?”
She could tell he didn’t know what to say. Part of her knew he was at wits ends trying to come up with something to say that wasn’t going to sound silly or stupid—and another part of her knew something completely different.
When he found his voice he spoke slowly and assuredly. “It was pretty—nice. It was. I don’t know perfect because . . .” Again he lowered his head, looking at the table. “I’m not sure what perfect should feel like.”
This time Annie did reach across the table and touched his left hand. “It felt like today, Kerry. That’s what perfect is like.”
He looked down at his hand, then up at Annie as she slowly drew hers back. There was a puzzled look on his face as if he were expecting something, and it hadn’t yet arrived. “I believe you.” His voice was almost inaudible against the background sounds of the restaurant. “I believe you know perfect, Annie.”
“Sometimes.” She winked.
A couple of minutes of silence passed as they both returned to their forgotten meals. Annie began wondering if she’s pushed Kerry too far, if all her moments of contact and minor intimacy were too much for him. She didn’t think what she’d done was strange, because she’d seen her parents do the same with each other for years. The slight glances, the little touches here and there, the brushing of fingers against an arm, the holding of hands . . . I did nothing different. And then there’s—
Kerry tapped his fingers against his plate while not looking across the table. “Can I ask you something?”
Annie braced herself for the worse. “You may.”
And what is the question Kerry is asking? Well . . . psych! I’m not telling. You’re just gonna have to wait. But that Annie: she loves to torture her boy–
She also loves touchy-feely, too. As I’ve alluded to from time-to-time, there is much more going on between these two that seems . . . normal. Then again, the only “Normal” person at this table is Kerry, and he’s not all that normal when it comes right down to it. He’s a bit lost at the moment, but don’t worry: Annie will show him the way. More or less. In time.
And if you only knew what was going on inside her head–
But you will. Eventually.