I sent the third draft of the BP to my lovely writer friends Abby and Veronica on Saturday. We’re meeting this coming Saturday to tear the book apart, and I can’t wait to start the fourth draft!
Until then, I’m smoothing out the sections where I know the writing is rushed and clumsy. For your Peek of the Week, here is a recently smoothed excerpt:
The girls multiplied throughout the morning until a small crowd lined the marsh. The small crowd drew other onlookers, and by lunchtime, Stonians clustered around the marsh with folding lawn chairs and beach blankets and picnic lunches.
Darcy Diggit rolled out his ice-cream cart and Phyllis Lamore sold cotton candy. Mothers leaned back in the sunlight, gossiping and sipping white wine from plastic cups. The girls sunbathed on their stomachs, shimmering with sun-tan lotion. Their freshly painted nails sparkled in the heat as they watched the athletes from behind lowered lashes.
They pretended not to be watching of course, these virginal beauties of the marsh. They talked and laughed and gazed off across the field at the horizon, elongating their swan necks to display their plumage to best advantage. Theirs was the vague desire of diaries and daydreams, and they would have startled into flight had one of the golden youths approached them and dared speak.
Junior winged above them. Sighs escaped their lips, and silence swept across the blankets as each young woman imagined with horrified delight the moment when Junior would lose his pact with gravity and fall gently, so gently—and a little roughly—on top of her. But his bond with the earth was too strong for them, and his lithe body twisted, dipped, righted itself, and was off again at a safe, sad distance.
“That one’s staring at you,” Maxine said.
“Which one?” Junior asked, peeking at the girls.
“The blond in the blue bathing suit…”
“Don’t point,” Max said in a furious whisper, turning pale under his tan. Junior followed Maxine’s finger to where Charlotte Smith reclined on a beach towel, her blond hair coiled in a messy updo. She had shrugged out of her suit straps, revealing light pink lines running across her sunburned shoulders. She smiled at Junior and dropped her head. Her neck and shoulders flushed crimson.