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#2 The turd factory

5/10/2015

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Here's another excerpt from my first draft. This one's from the fourth chapter:



He started walking to the left of Hope Hall, intent on finding a view of the valley below—somewhere quiet where he could read. As he neared the blue door it opened and out came the tall blonde he saw earlier that day. She was built like a model. Her dark blue eyes (eyes are green in the final version) left Alex for a moment and scanned the parking lot. She looked at him again and said: “Did you remember to push your seat back?”

A smile spread over Alex’s features. It was the kind of smartass comment he usually heard from Josh. (Josh had a brief existence in the first draft. Sadly, his remains are now scattered on the cutting room floor. So this reference has to go.) He found it incredibly attractive coming from a girl. (Classic showing vs telling. Not good, not good.) “Actually I had a better view of the road with my nose touching the front windshield. I think I’m gonna let it ride.” (He should not have been this quick to comment. A pretty girl actually talking to him? There should be some hesitation.)

She laughed as she made her way down the steps to Alex (Of course she's walking to Alex. Why say it?), extending her hand as she said: “I’m Deanna.”(Eva started out as Deanna. I started calling her Eva about halfway through the first draft. I don't really know why. I guess it sounded better to me? <shrugs>) There was a slight Southern drawl to her accent.

“I’m Alex. It’s nice to meet you.” (Ugh. Stilted.) Her fingers were long and graceful, and unlike his crazed roommate, she never looked away. (And yet I made it a point to say she looked away right up there in the first paragraph. There's just way too much useless description.) She was wearing designer jeans that Alex thought were worth every penny she paid for them. They looked tailor-made for her body, emphasizing her long legs and fit physique. She paired the jeans with a T-shirt and covered that with a light wind jacket to block the autumn air. (Who cares about what she's wearing? Geez, I'm falling asleep reading it, how'd I stay awake writing it? And we know she's good-looking, so why do I keep beating you over the head with it? Idiot.) She had a pink backpack slung over her right shoulder. (I got called out for making all her accessories pink. You'll notice when you read the book that she now owns very few pink items.)

“How’s your roommate?” she asked.



There's so much useless description that we barely get a feel for the characters...and this is the start of a very important relationship! Lots of tweaking is needed here (hell, even some twerking might help), because as it stands, this scene is all telling, and no showing. That's bad writing 101.

This is why I had to basically rewrite that first draft.

Speaking of that, I'm already tired of calling it my first draft. It needs a name. How about...the turd factory? Yep, that'll work. From now on, it'll be called the turd factory.

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