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THE FOG SCENE
written by Patricia Vermeire I had the privilege of reading Patricia Vermeire’s
Affairs Of The Heart from beginning to end while she was writing it. It’s a great book. AFFAIRS
OF THE HEART was our first major critiquing adventure as partners and we
learned a great deal. Number One: During phone conversations make Angi stay
on target J or she’ll talk about everything
her daughter did. LOL Seriously though, one of our discussions was one of
those “light bulb” moments for Patricia (her words). This example of
critiquing is where deep POV became alive. Thank you, Patricia, for allowing me to share this
with others. Angi The next
morning, Kyle pondered his dilemma as he lounged against his Range Rover
outside Miss Melanie's Bed and Breakfast.
Fog curled through the hedges bordering the boxy Victorian mansion as
the hesitant dawn glowed pink against the dormers of the upper story. The morning chill hung in the air, leaves
and flowers damp and dripping at the edge of the shadowed lawn. The sun would bring warmth and light, but
not answers. He
needed Michelle's study, or rather the distinction of participating in her
ground-breaking research. Beyond that,
he needed Michelle. Period. And somehow he had to work with her without
fighting all the time. Find a way to
see her and talk to her, knowing they couldn't change what had happened in
the past. Or pick up where they'd left
off. He'd
come too close to blowing it last night.
Between her dangerous blue eyes and full, tempting lips, Michelle had
argued her way straight into his arms.
She felt too good there, as if she belonged. She had, once, and walked
away. His one great failure, and one
he didn't plan to repeat. This
morning he'd try a new approach, one that might alleviate the tension and
awkwardness of working together again.
First he'd get her out of the hospital for a while, away from the
battlefield, and fashion a truce of sorts. And from now on he'd keep his distance. Somehow, some way, he'd forget how
perfectly she fit against him, her enticing fragrance, the heat in her
gaze. He'd keep his hands to himself
until either Michelle went back to her ivory tower in From
the wide front porch of house, the screen door banged shut. Kyle squinted against the slanting rays of
the rising sun and couldn't help but appreciate Michelle's slim figure. Even this early in the morning, toting an
intimidating briefcase, she looked positively scrumptious. Good enough to eat.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, fisting her free hand
on her hip. ORIGINAL
WITH CRITIQUE: Please
note: some of this original critique was done over the phone. I stated what I
liked about the chapter, but this particular scene bothered me. Although it
was full of great description, when viewed with the entire chapter, it didn’t
seem to progress the story much or have any great emotional impact. We
discussed deep POV and making every scene count. The
next morning, Kyle pondered his dilemma as he lounged against his Range Rover
outside Miss Melanie's Bed and Breakfast. [Telling] Fog curled through the hedges
bordering the boxy Victorian mansion as the hesitant dawn glowed pink against
the dormers of the upper story. The
morning chill hung in the air, leaves and flowers damp and dripping at the
edge of the shadowed lawn. The sun
would bring warmth and light, but not answers. [This
paragraph is telling us where Kyle is and how everything looks, but why is it
relevant to Kyle? Why is he noticing his surroundings? Does the average guy
notice a “pink” dawn or react to the fact that he’s up at dawn? Make him SHOW the
action and add emotion.] He
needed Michelle's study, or rather the distinction of participating in her
ground-breaking [computer says
groundbreaking -- no hyphen] research. Beyond
that, he needed Michelle. Period. And somehow he had to work with her without
fighting all the time. Find a way to
see her and talk to her, knowing they couldn't change what had happened in
the past. Or pick up where they'd left
off. [something
through here is choppy -- maybe it’s the comma after her...or maybe since
we’re in his POV, I just need him to state it instead of getting confused...] He'd
come too close to blowing it last night.
Between her dangerous blue eyes and full, tempting lips, Michelle had
argued her way straight into his arms.
She felt too good
there, as if she belonged. [I think I know what
you’re getting at, but “too good” makes me think that she’s TOO GOOD to be in
his arms.] She had, once, and walked away. His one great failure, and one he didn't
plan to repeat. [So what was his
actual plan? Don’t keep secrets while in his POV. Why had he brought her
back?] This
morning he'd try a new approach, [Telling, add emotion,
show us -- let him think of the new approach] one that might alleviate the
tension and awkwardness of working together again. First he'd get her out of the hospital for
a while, away from the battlefield, and fashion a truce of sorts. And
from now on he'd keep his distance.
Somehow, some way, he'd forget how perfectly she fit against him, her
enticing fragrance, the heat in her gaze.
He'd keep his hands to himself until either Michelle went back to her
ivory tower in From the wide front porch
"What are you doing here?" she asked, fisting her free hand
on her hip. Nice
scene, but I have to ask how it progresses the story? Why would Kyle notice
everything around him in such detail if he were worried about Michelle and
how to keep her? Add emotion, lots of
emotion. This scene has potential. Dig deep, help the reader to understand
why everything around Kyle is important or why it’s not. REWRITE: He'd
been on duty in one way or another for fifteen days straight. The last three had
left him with less than four hours sleep in twenty-four, due more to
personal, guilt-ridden reasons than professional. But finally, today, he was
free. As another Technicolor dawn flirted with the
mountaintops to the east, Kyle found himself not laying comatose in his
tranquil, secluded beach house, but propped against his Range Rover in front
of Miss Melanie's Bed and Breakfast, contemplating the mysteries of the
universe, at least where women were concerned. So he'd
screwed up. Royally, as the saying went. He'd taken a perfect opportunity to
put some romance into action and turned heaven into hell in the space of
about two minutes. Way to go, Richards.
Invoking cause and effect, he'd consigned himself to whatever
groveling and abject humility it took to get Michelle to talk to him in
something other than a haughty snarl. To say their relationship had cooled
was an enormous, and cruel, understatement.
Freezing further layers to the iceberg of their so-called truce was
the lack of any decent candidates for her research study. Kyle was sinking
fast. Charm had failed him. He was down to bribery. Or at least a negotiated
settlement. Eyeing the fog curling through the hedges
bordering the boxy Victorian mansion, he could only hope his plan would thaw
enough of Michelle's heart that she could forgive him. In the last few days,
she'd been a real ice princess, with all the accompanying frost and silence.
The morning chill hanging in the air seemed balmy by comparison, even with
the heavy dew dripping from the shrubs and roses at the edge of the shadowed
lawn. Roses.
Red roses. As in, flowers-for-a-blue-lady roses.
Michelle liked roses, if he remembered right. He might spend less time
on his knees at her feet if he offered her a red rose glistening with dew.
Sounded like a plan. Pushing
off the cold, slick panel of his truck, Kyle padded across the damp lawn to a
huge rosebush at the corner of the house. After a furtive glance around for
witnesses, he plucked the fattest, darkest red blossom from the bush. As he shook the heaviest dew off the petals, the
screen door banged shut on the wide front porch. He tucked the flower behind
his back just as Michelle came into view.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, fisting one hand on
her hip. ADDITIONAL
NOTE: The scene ends by tying the
scenery back into Kyle’s thoughts... A shaft
of sunlight slipped through the clouds and wreathed her hair in a brilliant
halo. His first day off in two weeks, and he was spending it with his very
own angel.
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Copyright
2004 Angi Platt & Patricia Vermeire -- all rights reserved, please obtain
written permission before use. |