It’s at that point now, the point at which the story is pretty much out there, and now I’m making it mine. The way I write -and it just occurred to me that I do this, a LOT- is in this sort of stream of consciousness style that is very loose grammatically, but otherwise very structured and mathematical. So, I’m at that point where I am about to get mathy about the story, and I’m starting to get tired, but not so tired of it that I can sit here and edit ruthlessly until I’m done, just so I’ll be done. And I can’t put the power shoes on either, because my polish is still too fresh. But mostly, I’m sitting here reading this over and over, and getting paranoid that everything I write for the rest of of my life is going to sound like a Sweet Valley High book. Damn you, Francine Pascal.
Anyhoodle. In the Ten Pages of Crap phase, this went from being about a mechanic with a mild foot fetish to being about a naive twenty-five year old woman who decides to seduce her boss. Here are two excerpts, that will probably stay intact when the story is done. Unless I decide they sound too much like Sweet Valley High. Especially the first one.
I.
Heather had the sensation of watching their conversation from six feet over her own head. It always started like this, with vertigo. Looking down at Miles from high above, his dark hair and seawater blue eyes, his thick hand on her desk, made her spin with ideas. She shifted in her chair, uncrossed and crossed her legs, enjoying that his eyes were following each movement. He was an easy mark. The intense, successful ones always were; the restlessness that drove them, and the need for release were so close to the surface. They were easy to break, like eggshells. You can wrap your hand all the way around an egg and clamp down, and it won’t break no matter how tightly you close your fist, but put just a little pressure in just the right the places, and they crack.
II.
There were so many ways that it could happen. There were so many ways that she could break him down. The skirts, the long, slow looks that she allowed, the long slow looks that she gave. Once, in passing, Miles made a comment about life being too short, as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger, like he was trying to loosen a rusty bolt. It was after she told him that she and Ed were moving in together. He raised an eyebrow.
“It’s ok, I’m happy. It’s good.”
“You’re young. You may think you know what you’re doing now, but in twenty years you’ll wake up next to a stranger and wonder if you’ve ever really been known.”He held her gaze until she had to look away. At the time, it made her sad for him, now, vertigo.
And, for the record, lest anyone wonder, I have never, ever seduced my boss. Once, when I was working for BU catering, my manager got drunk and showed me his boxers (they had sunflowers on them), but that was as steamy as things ever got.
Also, this is the first time I have ever admitted publicly to reading Sweet Valley High.
I’m already embarrassed (about the writing, not the Sweet Valley High), and I haven’t even hit publish. But, got to get it out there to keep myself accountable to myself.
