Excerpt

Monday, May 21, 2007

I'm about 1/3 through the edits. Reading through old stuff can be scary because you just *knew* at the time you were writing it, it was the Best Stuff You'd EVAH(!) written. Now all you see is everything that's wrong. :-P On the flip side, going through this one also reaffirms why I can't just shove this ms under the bed. I love the characters, even the secondaries. Here's a scene with where the hero is golfing with his parents and best friend, Rob is a hoot and at one point I wanted to write his story. I still might.

Daniel glanced at his parents standing several feet away and allowed a small smile to tweak his lips. Looks like his mother was at it again, judging from her determined expression and his father’s stiff posture. Daniel felt sympathy for his dad; Elle Mackenzie could've given Napoleon lessons on siege and attack strategies. Then his smile faded. This was one war she where should admit defeat, though.

He turned his attention back to Rob, who still hadn’t taken his shot. Instead his best bud wiggled his retina-burning neon-plaid covered butt, looked over yonder-—being the direction of the next hole—-then performed his duck imitation one more time. Daniel suppressed the urge to kick the moving target. “Enough already, take a swing!”

Rob was offended. “If you please? I’m addressing the ball.”

“You’re making love to the damn ball. Just hit it.”

“Unlike some people,” he wiggled some more, “I pride myself on my prowess—-on and off the course. I do not just Hit. It., as you so crudely advise.” Rob stared down at the tee one more time, did his little dance and— “Hey,” he looked back at Daniel, “I think I may just be onto something...make love to your balls.” He winked then re-focused.

“You were onto that concept at puberty,” Daniel said drolly. “When you tried to mimic the family dog,” he added as Rob’s club arced down—

—Slicing the ball all to hell. A big beautiful banana of a shot that veered to the right. “Shit!” Rob turned round with murder in his eyes. Daniel barely noticed since he was laughing his ass off. He walked over and slapped him on the shoulder. “If that’s an example of your prowess, it’s a wonder you aren’t still a virgin.” He paused, becoming serious. “You’re not, are you?”

Rob took the razzing as he elbowed him away. “Jerk.” Then he looked past Daniel. “Oh great, here comes your old man to rub it in.”

Daniel felt his good humor dry up. More like his dad was coming to give Rob a few pointers, maybe talk a bit of smack. These two were getting on like free condoms in a frat house. His mouth twisted. He’d never been on the receiving end of his father’s teasing encouragement. It'd always about doing better—-pointing out the base he failed to steal in T-ball or the goal he miscalculated in junior hockey.

He watched as Rob pretended to sob on his dad’s shoulder, and the easy way the old man went along with the joke, patting Rob’s back. It was like watching a Twilight Zone version of Michael Mackenzie—-jarring. And the realization it shook loose caused his breath to gel in his throat. How long had it been since he and his old man did more than exchange a formal handshake?
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2 comments:

Kat said...

I always loved this story.

Jaye said...

Me too. ;-) It was fun revisting them. How're things with you?

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