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abracanabra01/23/2010, Saturday, spent most of the day tromping around used-car lot. And napping.
Deleted from Vicesteed, ch. 24
Old chapter wordcount: 5,727
New chapter wordcount: 2,452
Vicesteed Draft 1 wordcount: 207,877
Vicesteed Draft 2 current wordcount: 149,510
Notes: You know that bit in The Princess Bride where he mentions the "old version" had 30 pages of description of people getting dressed? Yeah, it was like that.
Reason for deleting scene: Interpersonal interactions that don't add that much to the story and weaken the ending. Though I'm sad to lose the bit about the hedgehog costume.
Which deleted scene is it anyway?
Other writingy stuff:
* Posted writing log, freewriting, NanoWri
* Printed off, filed, and thanked for Critters crits so far. (This is notable for being a speedy response, something I'm terrible at!)
* Processed suggested name change from "The Old Woman By The Sea" to "Memory of a Child's Dinner at a Chinese Restaurant." Long, but maybe more eye-catching, in a "WTF is *that* about?" sort of way.
* Read Duotrope's Digest, Lunch Weekly newsletter and updated market list from it.
* Breakdown of why an author believes her query letter led to publication: http://www.murdershewrites.com/2009/04/23/queries-and-agents-and-rejects-oh-my/
* Transitions: http://www.alanrinzler.com/blog/2009/12/28/ask-the-editor-help-with-transitions-and-bridges/
Deleted from Vicesteed, ch. 24
Old chapter wordcount: 5,727
New chapter wordcount: 2,452
Vicesteed Draft 1 wordcount: 207,877
Vicesteed Draft 2 current wordcount: 149,510
Notes: You know that bit in The Princess Bride where he mentions the "old version" had 30 pages of description of people getting dressed? Yeah, it was like that.
Reason for deleting scene: Interpersonal interactions that don't add that much to the story and weaken the ending. Though I'm sad to lose the bit about the hedgehog costume.
Which deleted scene is it anyway?
They were interspersed with the scenic alcoves, but she found she had lost her taste for entertainment. The diorama of Old Earth didn't arouse a flicker of interest in her bosom, the clowns didn't make her laugh, and the miniature zoo only made her sad for the caged animals.
Her father concluded his exchange of pleasantries with Lady Hastings by saying, "As always, m'lady, it has been a delight to speak with you. However, I see an acquaintance on the other side of the dance floor who appears eager to speak with you. May I entrust my daughter to your care?"
A protest surged up from Rosemary's heart: she did not need to be cared for, and she had hoped to pass the time with her father. She'd been fool enough to think that outside the confines of their usual relationship, she might be allowed the time to show him that she was not hysterical. She knew that if she spoke her sentiments, he would take it as evidence of such.
"Certainly, sir," Lady Hastings replied, smiling so gracefully that Rosemary felt the mere fact of her existence was gauche. "However, I believe that there is another who will take her from me shortly."
Her father smiled in complicity, bowed to them both, and took his leave.
Rosemary smiled helplessly at Lady Hastings.
"Don't fret, dear," Lady Hastings said. "I think you will have a pleasant time here."
She lifted her chin and surveyed the crowd. Seeing who she wanted, she made a sharp beckoning gesture. A young gentleman hastily excused himself from the cluster of gentlemen that he was conversing with and made his way towards them through the throng. He was tall and red-haired, and he did, Rosemary had to admit, look most amiable, as advertised.
He was nearly to them when Rosemary gasped and clutched her hand. Sharp pain shot through her finger. He quickly closed the distance and steadied her with a hand beneath her elbow.
"My dear," asked Lady Hastings, "are you feeling quite the thing?"
"I beg your pardon, m'lady," Rosemary said, cradling her hand. "My finger feels as though I pricked it on something."
Lady Hastings surveyed the crowd around them with a frown that soon cleared. "It's that dratted Miranda, I'm afraid. I'm terribly sorry. You must have pricked yourself upon one of her quills. I must have a word with her about the advisability of choosing to costume oneself as a hedgehog."
She clapped her hands. "But I am forgetting my manners, children! Rosemary Goldmyrrh, may I present my cousin's son, Mr. Augustus Brooks."
Mr. Brooks bowed and Rosemary curtseyed, raising her veiled mask as she did so.
"Miss Goldmyrrh, may I have this dance?" he asked.
"Certainly, sir," she replied.
She placed her hand upon his arm. To her surprise, despite the pain in her finger, not a spot of blood showed upon the white of the gloves.
Other writingy stuff:
* Posted writing log, freewriting, NanoWri
* Printed off, filed, and thanked for Critters crits so far. (This is notable for being a speedy response, something I'm terrible at!)
* Processed suggested name change from "The Old Woman By The Sea" to "Memory of a Child's Dinner at a Chinese Restaurant." Long, but maybe more eye-catching, in a "WTF is *that* about?" sort of way.
* Read Duotrope's Digest, Lunch Weekly newsletter and updated market list from it.
* Breakdown of why an author believes her query letter led to publication: http://www.murdershewrites.com/2009/04/23/queries-and-agents-and-rejects-oh-my/
* Transitions: http://www.alanrinzler.com/blog/2009/12/28/ask-the-editor-help-with-transitions-and-bridges/