#GBE2: Exploring POV

As a writer, I love the challenge of taking a short scene from my WIP and changing the POV, but I wonder if there is any harm in posting this scene. My manuscript has not been sold, or even queried yet, but I will be in the process of sending it out this month. Would a future agent or editor object to my 250 or so words being published on my blog? I hope not.

Charlie Brown and my little Knob have a lot in common.

I'm in the habit of writing everything in first person, so it was a fun challenge to convert a scene to third; however, the first paragraph was not too different, so I didn't even bother to repost it.



Here is a first person scene from MRS. ZIMMERMAN'S DONUTS:

Slater’s mom pulled a chisel-shaped knife out of its top drawer and leaned her head back. With the precision of a surgeon, she gently slid the blade downward until it disappeared into her throat. Next she thrust it out with one gigantic swing. Blood covered the blade while red liquid filled her mouth. Her eyes rounded as her lips curved into a smug smile. She winked at me! Blood gushed out of her mouth, and she winked! While the room spun in oval circles, I couldn’t decide if she was crazy or if I needed the loony bin.

When a thick, red droplet dribbled down her chin, I squeezed the back of a chair and stepped backwards. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I worried that I might hurl at any moment.

“You’re b-bleeding.” I gripped the chair with my other hand too until my knuckles turned as white as Mom’s had when she drove me home after I’d gotten in trouble the other day. “Hospital. We need to t-take you to the h-hospital!”

Slater, Calfie, and Mrs. Slatker laughed so hard tears filled their eyes.

“What are you laughing at? I think she’s really hurt!” I plopped into a chair, put my elbow on the table, and leaned my head into my palm. “I don’t feel so good.”

“It’s fake, Knob,” Slater said in between chuckles. “She squirted fake blood in her mouth!”

How about a brush with third person?

 

Mrs. Slatker winked at Knob, whose face had transformed to a mixture of ashen and green. He squeezed the back of a chair and placed a wobbly foot behind him.  Spastic churning bloated his belly in an achy, sick sensation.

“You’re b-bleeding.” Knob gripped the chair with his other hand until his knuckles turned white. “Hospital,” he said. “We need to t-take you to the h-hospital!”

Slater, Calfie, and Mrs. Slatker laughed so hard tears filled their eyes.

“What are you laughing at? I think she’s really hurt!” Knob plopped into a chair, put his elbow on the table, and leaned his head into his palm. “I don’t feel so good.”

“It’s fake, Knob,” Slater said in between chuckles. “She squirted fake blood in her mouth!”

Silly Sunday: Life Support

Theme Thursday: What's Cooking? NADA

How ironic to be given a prompt asking, "What's cooking?," the day after my twenty-six hour fast. Yesterday, Yom Kippur––The Day of Atonement, meant a full sundown to past-down-again of reflecting, praying, and empty bellies. 

Each year, I'm amazed to see how easy fasting is for me. In fact, I was so involved with getting my house ready for the break fast, that I failed to watch the clock and went five minutes past supper time! I confess, I did a little evening cooking and baking, but no tasting. If I can go a full day without food or drink, why can't I say, "No" to that second helping or fattening dish? Our minds truly contain the potential to control that thing called our body if we're serious enough to do so.

Last night, a story circulated from one of the Orthodox synagogues in town. A teenage girl fell ill due to lack of food and passed out during the afternoon service. Someone made the mistake of yelling, "Is there a doctor in the house?" 

Practically the entire shul rushed to her aid, with the exception of a couple dozen lawyers pondering, Who pushed her? or Is there a loose tile below her feet that would make a good suit? And of course the temple contained those mentally challenged folks who became accountants. Cool your jets––I'M KIDDING! But in all honesty, we are quite an educated group of people.

The girl was fine. Her ego contained a few bumps and bruises, but no more than those I acquire daily.

If I have offended anyone this year–like accountants, please accept my humble apologies, but also realize I attended Kol Nidre services. This is a most important time when we admit to G-d that we'll probably sin all over again because after all, that's what humans do.