Now, when I say "editing"- this is a lose term, meaning I went through my draft and fixed my spelling errors (words like "himslef", "teh" and the most common being "remeber"), and un-lamed some dialogue as best as I could. I found myself saving yet another draft of Blood Freckles. I guess it would be Blood Freckles 4.5 or something. Yikes.
I'm not seeing this book hitting bookstores, much less receiving any sort of reward, but it's a story I love. I've put so much time into conceiving it, re-writing it, and trying out new angles- I feel I have to do SOMETHING with it someday. But this means having someone else read it. This sort of goes into the category of singing solo.
I braced myself as I read through it last night- after having read a sizable chunk of Neil Gaimans "Stardust", it felt a bit thin- but, I'm no Neil Gaiman.
I did find myself smiling a bit. I was even gripped a bit by some parts that I hadn't remembered were in there. My only problem is- I'm so invested in this story and it's characters, that I know EVERYTHING, so it'd be easy for me to miss the places that need more info.
There are also a few minor subplots that come out in the beginning that never show up again. I'm not sure if I should take them out or beef them up later in the story.
The ending is lame. This I know. But, I'm not worried about that right now.
Overall, I think I'm ready to expose at least sections of it to other humans. A few people have asked to read it, but I'm pretty sure they were just being polite. I will say it's short- maybe 51,000 words- a novella, really.
I like the beginning...I think. I think I started in as good a spot as any- and beginnings are important, nowadays. Laborious backstory isn't tolerated anymore- so, you have to fill the reader in strategically in quick doses throughout the action parts. (not that this book boasts much action)
Here's my start. My strongest of the dozens of starts I've tried. Please critique. I'm fairly secure and fully understand that I'm no prodigy:
Nina had been dreaming again, and it took her a few minutes to realize it. The bed sheets were tangled around her feet and the blankets were falling off to one side. Her eyes crept open, taking in the popcorn ceiling of her bedroom and the grey light coming in through dingy vertical blinds.
She squeezed her eyes shut against reality. She tried to drop back into it- into the turbid images that were receding from her consciousness by the second. It was always the same dream, made up of images her brain retained. Grey eyes under furrowed brows, naked trees behind him, a sharp blast of sound and the smell of burning hair- it was all fading into the staleness of the present. Most people would want to forget something like this, but it was all she had of him. Of John, whom she had no claim on in any other way except for sharing this one tragedy.
The phone was ringing in the living room, and Nina new Doug would answer it. He was home today, as he was every Monday since the church cut his hours even further. She was thankful for her father’s generosity in letting her live with him rent free, especially since his pay was cut so much after losing his Pastorship. He was a shell of his previous self, and seemed to hang onto Nina as his last hold on normal life. Unfortunately, there was nothing normal about how Nina felt about him now.
His voice was muffled through the thin apartment walls. He still had the familiar cadence and boom he used to project over a sanctuary of anxious church goers. She heard him say goodbye and could here the heel-toe, heel-toe of his steps down the short hallway. “Nina?”
Nina’s eyes were still forced shut, but she managed a ragged, wordless response.
“Jerry wants me to go down and take his counseling appointment at 9:30.”
“Ok.” She spoke into her pillow. Ordinarily, Doug would have inched the door open and looked in on her to communicate, but Nina told him not to open her door anymore after the first couple times since she moved in. He took his hand off the door knob.
“I’m gonna take the car, then.” He paused for a response or an objection. “You’re not working today, right?”
Nina groaned into her pillow and fought an anxious wave of nausea. “No, I’m not working.”
“Alright, well, I should be back this afternoon.”
“Wait!” Nina sat up with sudden inspiration. She flung herself out of bed and towards the door, stopping to grab her robe that was thankfully nearby. Pulling it on over her t-shirt, she cracked the door a bit. “Can you drop me off at the BART station?”
“The BART station?”
“Yeah- I’m going into the city.” She said, tying the belt on her robe and opening the door fully with her foot.
“Today? You have to go to San Francisco today?” Doug leaned against the wall with the phone still in his hand, one eyebrow raised.
“I don’t HAVE to go, I just want to. And I’m not doing anything else, so, why not?” Nina pushed past him in the cramped hall towards the kitchen where she hoped there’d be coffee.
Doug followed and put the cordless phone back on it’s base. He scratched his head and picked up his keys from the kitchen counter. “It’s just- I have to get going, Neen. It’s 8:45, and I’d like to get in to the office a little bit before the appointment.”
“I’m just going to have coffee and throw on some clothes, and I’ll be ready. Five minutes, tops!!” She poured herself a cup of coffee and dumped a heaping spoon of sugar in it. The coffee was hot and made her cough after the first gulp.
Doug watched her impatiently as she drank. He glanced around the apartment, which was a mess and frowned. “I guess I hoped you’d stay home today. Maybe…pick up a little.”
Nina ignored the comment, thumbing through the pile of mail that was on the kitchen table. “Whats this?”
Doug eyed it and sighed. “A bill for the new sump pump I had to install on the old house. I guess the basement flooded after Mrs. Petrochko moved out.”
“She moved out?” Nina looked up at him, squinting.
Doug shifted his weight. “Well, she was dying so her family put her into a rest home. So now I have to find another renter or sell it.” He took the bill out of her hand and put it in a drawer. “Let’s go, Nina. I have to go. Please.”
Nina was lost in thought, but shook it off. “I know.” She put the mug on the table and went back to her room to get dressed. Doug picked up the mug, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. He sat down at the table and raked his hands through his graying hair.
He didn’t want to find another tenant for the house- he really wanted his ex-wife to do it, since was close by and could handle it. But Paula wanted to sell the place, as if she needed money now. Doug barely had the money to pay his rent, much less pay to have repair done on his aging rental property.
Nina stumbled out of her abyss of a room in an old sundress and denim jacket. She was wearing worn motorcycle boots, and was stuffing things into an antique handbag. “See? I’m ready.”
“Let’s go.” Doug mumbled as he got up from the table and went to the front door. When he wasn’t looking, Nina yanked the cord on the answering machine.
His car was parked in the spot closest to their door- a rare occurrence, as the spot was usually taken, and he had to park on the street or halfway across the apartment complex. Nina opened the passenger side door or the mint green Ford Taurus and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for her dad. This car was a piece of shit, but the only thing he could afford. He’d had to sell his truck after losing his position and the divorce. He loved that truck. It was totally impractical to own a huge pick up truck in the San Francisco Bay area, but it was a status symbol. Now he drove a dented 1989 Taurus the color of an easter egg, and fought to park it safely in front of his run down Castro Valley apartment.
Once they were on their way, waiting their way through traffic lights, Nina was fiddling with a lose piece of plastic on car door. “Hey.”
“What?” Doug asked, putting on the turn indicator.
“How much is the rent?” Nina kept her eyes out the window.
“Seven Fifty, still.” He answered, clearing his throat and looking at her from the corner of his eye.
“Not this place, dad- the house.” Nina rolled her eyes and turned to him. “The house. How much do you have to get?”
Doug sat up straight in the drivers seat and jutted out his jaw to pop his ears or something. “At least seven fifty. More if I want to cover the car payment on this.” He thumped the dashboard.
Nina kept her eyes averted from him as he pulled into the transit station. She bit at her fingernails, though, she wasn’t really biting them off or anything, just sort of clicked her nails against her teeth. As the car stopped she coughed a bit and tapped her foot.
Doug looked straight out the windshield and drew in a ragged breath. “I can’t buy you plane tickets.”
“I know.” She was still turned to him but looking away.
“I don’t like it. I don’t want you living there.”
“I know.” She forced herself to look as his lined face and round, brown eyes. “I know.”
“Can we talk about it later?” He said, weakly. “I really can’t be late, Neen, please.”
“Sure.”
“Call me when you get back.”
“I’ll just walk home, don’t worry about picking me up.” Her voice was sweetened. He couldn’t help but see her mother in her smile- the same pink lips, the same red hair, the same blanket of freckles.
“As long as it’s not after dark. Or, at least call CeCe or something.” He was pulling out his wallet.
“I know.” She was opening the door.
“Here…Nina.” He held out a twenty to her.
“No! No, no. I’ve got money.”
“Just take it.”
She bit her lip and took it, stuffing it in her little tapestry handbag.
“Don’t let it fall out, Neen.” He said as she shut the door. She held up one hand as a “goodbye” and smiled. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of the church. She turned on the sidewalk and headed to the ticketing machine to buy her pass on the train to Union Square. From there she could catch MUNI buses to anywhere in the city, if she could remember which ones went where. It didn’t matter though, since she really just wanted to be there today-anywhere in the city, with the cold salt air and the crooked sidewalks and the people. She loved all the faces she passed and had stuffed a small sketchbook into her bag in case she got inspired to stop and render something or someone.
She was glad to be getting out, away from the apartment, away from the phone which was surely ringing right now. Nina leaned against a post as she waited for a train to come. That anxious nausea came back. She could picture the cordless ringing, ringing, ringing- her boss on the line, asking where she is. She can’t go back. Once they realize she forgot to drop off the bank deposit, which they would, since she’s pretty sure she left the huge stack of checks and cash on of the counter, they’d surely fire her anyway. She told them she didn’t want to deal with the money-just like she didn’t want do the imputing for the insurance claims. She’d gummed that up, too. She couldn’t face another firing for being a dingbat.
The train zoomed in with a great rush of wind that made Nina smile. It wasn’t crowded, and she took a seat that would in a few minutes be facing the Bay. Holding her bag on her lap, she couldn’t help but feel tremendous anticipation for her day.
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