My blather post yesterday showed what I felt was a promising start to a new short story. For comparison purposes, here are the revised first three paragraphs as they exist today. Voila:
When twilight brought sirocco
winds sweeping through the mud brick alleys of ancient Aplinar and clawing
through the crevices of her tiny flop, Meida roused from a fitful and sweaty
doze to prepare for the evening. She
gathered her damp curls into a braid and donned the local fashion, a
loose-fitting salwar tunic and baggy kameez pants in the plain linen of the
working class, then draped herself in a dark blue chadri of a different caste
entirely--one to which, ironically, she was entitled, although that was not her
reason for the choice. Made of silk and
embroidered with a pattern of leaves and vines forming glyphs intended to guard
her virtue, the chadri was stifling, both because of heat and the magical cloud
it settled upon her aura. It would go
down the nearest midden as soon as she was done with it, and good
riddance. But for now it masked her
power and the various charms, gris-gris and mundane weaponry she carried on her
person.
She checked her gear one last
time, made sure all was ready for a hurried departure, and sketched a glyph of
aversion across both possessions and the rickety door. Then, in a ritual as old as her freedom, she
checked the rubies at forehead, wrist, ankle, neck and navel, ensuring they
remained bound against her skin, protecting her. As prepared as she could be, she pinned the
chadri to hide her face, and, with a sigh, donned the last necessary
discomfort, the fingerless gloves which hid the one body part women habitually
did expose in Aplinar, their plump and hennaed hands.
Immediately, heat filled Meida's palms like damp, hot coins to match the sweat pasting curls
against her nape, making her grateful for the wind when a moment later she
stepped outside. Discomfort, however,
was the least of her worries. She had a commission to fulfill and this night to
fulfill it. And all was in readiness except for the acquisition of a single
item.
If you compare the two, notice that, though the same general activities and ideas are expressed, there are a lot of different things going on. The prose is broader, for one thing, and the actions better described and blocked out. And I've added in more clarity about magic, the heat and mention some amulets that become important later. And the original third paragraph has been excised as indulgent and not relevant.
Admittedly, it's about 120 words longer now (333 versus 220ish); but I like it much better.
You can call this draft 2 for the purposes of examination, but I am only 2500 words into a 5000 word story. It's still the first draft. Now you see why I don't write that fast; I tinker until I am reasonably satisfied before I move on.
I'm certainly not the only person ever to develop this style of story construction. But it is what satisfies me. I have to rework until I get the details settled. I battered my head against a mental wall yesterday, trying to get the kernal of an old idea (which I'd already started as a book at this character's childhood, believe it or not) trying to get it to sprout. Once I managed that, I could move forward, letting my back brain feed me ideas. When I got stuck again, I started boring my coworker at work today with the details of the story, and that got me to the middle. Now I'm sort of stuck in a conversation, trying to get it right before i can move on from there. The biggest problem is the twist that makes the story hasn't come to me yet. Because I know I'll find the kernel of that solution in teh conversation I'm struggling with, where one character is trying to convince our protagonist to let him help her kill him, that it really isn't a trick. Meanwhile, he does have an agenda he's trying to hide...it's just not what she suspects! And the ending must be a surprise that is well laid and thus not such a big surprise. (I'm not asking much here, right?)
Meanwhile, I'm terribly afraid this won't work when it's done, so my fingers are crossed. I hope this gets easier with practice.
And--color me surprised--I think I'm beginning to like writing short stories.
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