Brenda Margriet
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Kill Your Darlings - Romance Writers Weekly #lovechatwrite

8/18/2015

9 Comments

 
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This weeks challenge for us Romance Writers Weekly members comes from Carrie Elks:

“Stephen King famously said that it's necessary to 'kill your darlings' when editing your work. Do you have anything you had to remove from a book that you're still proud of? Or something that embarrasses you so much it will never again see the light of day? If you're feeling really brave, share some of it with us!”

If you joined me from Leslie Hachtel, welcome!

It is often a single image that inspires me when I am thinking of ideas for new stories. For my novel “No Life But This”, that image was a young woman spinning a globe, longing for excitement and adventure. Many of us have done this – watched the world blurring by, then tapping it with one finger and saying “There, that’s where I’m going.” My heroine, Abigail, does exactly that, and finds love on the tiny, little known Portuguese island of San Miguel, Azores.

After I’d written the manuscript, I sent it out into the world of beta readers. And almost every single one of them said they enjoyed the book once the romance got going, but that it started soooooo slowly. So I tightened up the beginning – and more readers said exactly the same thing. In the end, I hacked off about five chapters, before I finally found what I feel is the right place to start the story.

But I still have a soft spot for the original opening scene. It was this image, this atmosphere, that sparked the entire story. Maybe a reader doesn’t need it, but as a writer I think I needed to put it into words, so that the rest of the novel was infused with the thoughts and feelings I wrote about. Here it is.

Abigail's fingers bumped gently across the globe. The surface was irregular, as if it truly was a miniature world - Everest shrunk to the height of a fingernail, the waves of the oceans smoothed to an infinitesimal roughness. Its high gloss finish glared where the light from the floor lamp struck it.

"Abigail?" Martin approached quietly, and stood at her right shoulder. "It's time to go."

She gripped the globe with the tips of her fingers and gave it a whirl. She couldn't blame her dizziness on the blurring world before her. The last few days she'd been lightheaded, disconnected, out of touch. Not that anyone would have noticed. She'd been careful to act her normal sedate, organized, earnest self.

But inside she was screaming. Screaming so hard she couldn't hear herself think.

"The limousine is waiting." Martin's tone was soothing, patient, as if she were so fragile a loud noise might break her.

She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes and stopped the globe with a finger. Squinting through her lashes, she was disappointed to see her finger well below the tip of Greenland, lost in the nothingness of the Atlantic. She spun the globe again.

"I can't believe she's gone." She willed the tears from her eyes. "I miss her already."

Martin patted her back. She wanted him to pull her into his arms and hug her, hug her until the shards of pain in her chest softened. But he wasn't comfortable showing his affection in public. "It will get better. You just have to give it time," he said.

The coloured sphere revolved on its tilted axis, too fast for her eyes to follow. "She hated being alone, you know. She always wanted me or Tobias with her." Abigail had never minded taking Tobias' place so he could get out, enjoy the activities and adventures any teenage boy should be allowed to enjoy.

"Your mother loved you both. It's not unreasonable she wanted you near."

The globe came to a stop. She stared at it blindly. "I wanted to travel. Every time I mentioned it, though, she stressed out so much I couldn't bear to go through with it."

Martin sighed and shifted his weight. "Your father died in a plane crash. Of course she'd be nervous about you gallivanting about."

Her head snapped up. "Gallivanting? You make it sound like I wanted to hitchhike around the world. All I wanted was a few weeks somewhere exotic." She glared at him, noticing without surprise his boringly appropriate appearance--sober tie, the dark grey of his well cut suit masking a desk-job belly, his thinning blond hair brushed straight back from a high forehead. "And you know it was more than just flying."

"I know you had problems with your mother. But now is not the time to discuss them."

"I just wish--" she bit her lip and the back of her throat burned "--I wish she hadn't been so anxious all the time. It must have been a horrible way to live. And I worry..." She couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't admit she was petrified she'd become just like her mother. Scared to explore, scared to adventure, scared to live. "I loved her. I really did." But if her mother had truly loved her, would she have asked Abigail to give up so much? To give up her dreams, her passions?

She turned back to the globe and once more spun it swiftly.

"Abigail, we really have to go." Martin gripped her elbow gently.

She eased herself from his grasp. "You go ahead. I'll be right behind you. I need a minute."

His hesitated, then relented. "One minute. Tobias is already in the limo. This isn't any easier on him."

The sphere circled, slower and slower. When she heard the front door close, she closed her eyes, held out her finger. Taking a deep breath, she pushed forward, and halted the globe. When she opened her eyes, her shoulders slumped in despair. Once again she'd stopped the spin in the middle of the Atlantic. She'd been looking for a sign, and she had it. She was going nowhere.

Tiny printing on the shiny surface caught her eye and she leaned forward. There, right next to her neatly rounded fingernail with its modest clear coat of polish, was the word "Azores" surrounded by small black blobs.

She paused, considering the nine tiny specs in the vast blueness, then straightened her shoulders and headed for the door.

There'd be time to think tomorrow. Right now, she had to go to her mother's funeral.


I’m so glad I had a chance to share this scene with you! Now I invite you to move on to J.J. Devine and see what darlings she’s had to “kill”.

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9 Comments
Sarah Hegger
8/18/2015 08:23:20 am

I liked your first beginning, thank you for sharing

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Brenda Margriet
8/18/2015 02:27:35 pm

You know the cool thing, Sarah? As I prepped this post, I realized it wasn't this scene that made the story start slow - it was all the scenes BETWEEN this one and when she meets her hero. I'm thinking of sneaking it back in, and then skipping right to what is now my opening scene. Because I have to admit - I really love the feel of this scene.

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Xio Axelrod link
8/18/2015 08:25:17 am

Ahh, Abigail. I enjoyed reading her journey. Very atmospheric opening!

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Brenda Margriet
8/18/2015 02:28:47 pm

Thanks, Xio.

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Tessa Gray link
8/18/2015 09:12:26 am

My stories ALWAYS begin so slowly. That's the biggest criticism I receive. Thankfully, I've gotten good advice along the way on how to improve my writing. I enjoyed this post thoroughly.

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Brenda Margriet
8/18/2015 02:29:26 pm

At least we know where we err, Tessa! That should make it easier to fix! :)

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Veronica Forand link
8/18/2015 02:47:10 pm

Wow- a very cool image. I understand why you love it. Thanks for sharing.

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Carrie Elks
8/18/2015 10:56:29 pm

What beautiful words. I'm coming around to the idea that nothing we write is a waste, even if we end up cutting it. The things we cut can bring us closer to our characters and that has to be a good thing!

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Mikki Cober link
8/21/2015 06:32:02 am

Ooooh! I liked this! So sad it's a dead darling. Perhaps you've reused it? I hope so.

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