How different was yesterday from a lot of other Saturdays? Let me count the ways . . .
First off, editing played but a small part in the day’s shenanigans. I needed to mail something, and pick up makeup, and get a piece so I could fix my toilet. Yes, I was one busy lady, and for about three hours I played the Run Around Game of visiting places to get what I needed. But get them I did–
Which means I got to the editing, yeah? Nah. Not yet.
After returning home I changed into my “Daughter of Satan” skirt–so named because of a meme I saw that said wearing too short a skirt makes you Satan’s Daughter–and headed down for lunch. Not only was I hungry, but I was eager to enjoy an adult beverage. A Cosmopolitan, if you must know–
And just to make certain I got the enjoyment I required, I had two. Because why not?
Then I went home–which means I got into editing?
Not so fast.
Actually I lay down for a long nap–or what we used to call, “Sleeping it off.” I was out for about ninety minutes as far as I could tell, because I wasn’t actually keeping score. I felt good after waking up, though, because I was tired, and the Cosmos helped me relax considerably.
Then–editing? Ha! You wish!
While I was out I picked up something else along with the other items: a HDMI cable so I could connect my computer to my television which would allow me to stream video so I could watch things from Netflix and Amazon on the big screen. It took me a bit of fiddling around, but after twenty minutes I figured out how to take something on my computer and display and hear it on my set. This includes music, which means with a good set of speakers on my television I can stream music out of my computer and play it out the TV, and make it sound like a stereo system.
Tell us there was editing after this, please?
Yes, there was! About nine PM I finished editing the prologue, so that’s out of the way.
Of the three scenes I added words to one, removed them from another, and the third was a wash: nothing added or removed. Overall the prologue gained about a hundred words, which is something I tend to do. But Annie and Kerry are on their way to school, which means–
We get to the part where they meet each other for the “first” time.
Since I’m down to the coffee shop this morning that means I’m getting my caffeine fix and editing the first scene of the first chapter. I finished the revision on that about thirty minutes before writing this line, and I’ll likely do another scene this afternoon.
As I did with Annie’s first scene, Kerry’s first scene in London changed a little, mostly in tense and mood. The structure stayed the same, but things be altered just the same. And I discovered something here in this scene–hell, the first paragraph–that I said I wouldn’t do.
Let’s take a look at the first few paragraphs and see how it changed. First, here’s the old:
The following excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, 2015, by Cassidy Frazee)
Kerry stepped out of the lift and checked his surroundings, getting his bearings. He tugged hard on the backpack’s shoulder strap, then headed of in the direction of the cafe where Ms. Rutherford and he had eaten last night. Not cafe: Sherlock’s Grill. I can’t believe I’m staying in the Park Plaza Sherlock Holmes, he thought. The one time he’d visited London—with his parents last year—they’d stayed in one of the smaller, budget hotels for a couple of days. It was nice, but the room was a bit cramped and somewhat noisy—and he hadn’t liked sharing the room with his parents.
Last night, though, he walked into his room discovered there was a double bed, TV, wireless, a nice bathroom—all of it just for him. When he dined with Ms. Rutherford a half-hour later, he asked her how much all of this was costing: she told him it wasn’t a concern, that The Foundation had more than ample funds to cover the cost of his stay and the others.
He didn’t pry—nor did he ask where these “other students” were—but once back in his room he called up the website on his computer and checked the going price for his room. Assuming this Foundation wasn’t getting some kind of discount from the Park Plaza, Kerry estimated that Ms. Rutherford and four kids were costing The Foundation close to twelve hundred pounds a night—
And they were going to be there the whole weekend.
He wandered into the grill and spotted his chaperon right away. She still had her hair back in a pony tail, but she’d dressed down a bit, wearing a v-neck tee shirt and short, dangling earrings. “Hi, Ms. Rutherford.”
Her eyes followed him from almost the moment he’d stepped into the grill and remained locked upon him until he was standing next to the table. “Good morning, Kerry. Did you sleep well?”
And now the revision:
Kerry stepped out of the lift and began checking his surroundings in the still-somewhat unfamiliar location. He tugged hard on the backpack’s shoulder strap before heading off in the direction of the cafe where Ms. Rutherford and he had eaten last night. Not cafe: Sherlock’s Grill. I still can’t believe I’m staying at the Park Plaza Sherlock Holmes. The only time he’d visited London—when his parents came into the city last year because his dad had meetings at the BBC headquarters—they’d stayed in one of the smaller, budget hotels for a couple of days. It was nice, but the room was a bit cramped and somewhat noisy—and he didn’t enjoy having to share the room with his parents.
Last night, though, he walked into his room to discover a double bed, cable TV, wireless, a nice bathroom—and all of it for him alone. When dining with Ms. Rutherford a half-hour later, he asked her how much all of this was costing, and she told him it wasn’t a concern, that The Foundation had more than ample funds to cover the cost of his stay as well as the others.
He didn’t pry, nor did he ask where these others were, but once back in his room he called up the website on his computer and checked the going price for his room. Assuming this Foundation wasn’t getting some kind of discount from the Park Plaza, Kerry estimated that Ms. Rutherford, the other three kids, and him were costing The Foundation close to twelve hundred pounds a night—
And they were going to be there the whole weekend.
He wandered into the grill and spotted his chaperon right away. Her hair back in a pony tail and she was dressed down a bit in jeans, a v-neck tee shirt, and short, dangling earrings. Her eyes locked upon him only seconds after he stepped into the grill, and followed him as he approached the table. “Good morning, Ms. Rutherford.”
She waited until he was standing next to the table to speak. “Good morning, Kerry. Did you sleep well?”
Right off the bat I found a dread “He thought”. Holy shit, that had to go pronto! I didn’t mention it earlier, but I caught Kerry’s mom using exclamation points that needed removing as well, because those are another thing I said I wouldn’t do.
The differences between the two excerpts is subtle, but you can feel them when you read. And while I didn’t show it here, when you read this scene I sense how different Kerry feels in these early chapters compared to how he feels now. In the novel he’s had almost two years to grow, and I’ve pretty much had nearly two and a half years to allow the growing. Annie feels the same way: as I was told in the middling days of A For Advance, she was something of an Ice Princess, and while she’s not quite as icy these days, she’s still a bit of a princess, and likely will be for all time. Though she’ll always be Kerry’s Queen . . .
There you go: a busy almost twenty-four hours in the life of this writer. Now . . . what to do next?