Weekend Writing Warriors - 8/24/14

   Weekend Writing Warriors

8/24/14

 

Come join the hop to read an awesome eight from published and unpublished authors at: http://www.wewriwa.

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I know I'd already posted my first eight lines of my manuscript, but I decided on a rewrite as a result of a critiquer's advice. Hopefully this new beginning will jump the reader, agent, or editor into the story sooner.

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       I tried to focus on Ms. Link’s daily review, but it was pointless once I’d spotted the fat guy outside. He had hung under a tree for the past half hour with his bug eyes aimed straight at me, or at least it seemed that way. I rubbed my hand over my stiff neck and noticed that my shoulders had inched upwards. Knowing I had to stop this stalker, I got out of my chair and headed toward the window. Maybe if I closed it, he wouldn’t be able to see inside.

       “Ben, what are you doing?” Ms. Link asked.

       “Sorry, m’am. I was cold. Thought I’d close the window.”

       “I don’t think so,” she sang. “You can’t do that to a menopausal women. I’ll be burning like the steel under Carnegie’s furnaces.”

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Weekend Writing Warriors 8/3

Weekend Writing Warriors / #8 Sunday

08/03/14

http://www.wewriwa.com

Richard Peck said that he likes to end a novel where he started. Although I didn't quite do that, this passage is close to the end of my YA manuscript. Ben finds himself back in class talking about the robber barons, just like the very first sentence of BEING BENITO CARLEFFA, which I posted last week. Although this is not eight lines, some of the sentences are short and quick, so I decided to include the entire scene. 

Although just about every hand in the room is up, except Ben's, the teacher calls on him and asks, "Who were the robber barons?"

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     “Famous dead guys who ripped dudes off to get rich,” I said, but then blurted, “No. They aren’t all dead.”

     “Who are you talking about, Ben? Are we turning class into a political discussion?” Ms. Link smiled as if she were waiting for her compare and contrast moment. She’d always said, “History repeats itself” and now she was hoping I’d prove it true. 

     I shook my head, but she refused to move to another student. 

     “Can I use the bathroom?”

     “You may after you answer my question.”

     I stood and dragged my feet to the door. Before heading out, I grit my teeth and said, “My father.” 

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