All right, an excerpt, and a title: Under an Orange Sky
I was not sure what to post today. The last 3,500 words of my novel are just an exercise in word wasting. I was pretty much through with the story, and needed to somehow wrap things up. I found that I had to add an epilogue, in which we find out the truth about Seth and Fernando's origins. There is an interesting twist - and it was possibly my most creative writing yet, because it was almost impossible to figure out why one baby would be left behind and another taken to Spain. But I managed it! and I don't want to give too much away.
Today I decided to title my novel Under an Orange Sky, because of the song that inspired some of the pivotal moments of the book.
And that's about all I have to say - the book is terrible, but I'm proud of it, precisely because it is so terrible. It would have been easier to stop and throw it out, but I stuck with it. And, as Chris Baty says that someone else says, you should love your failed experiments as you would an ugly child.
Anyway, an excerpt. It is interesting mainly because I decided to top off my inaccurate 1920's historical fiction with some inaccurate turn-of-the-century historical fiction. I hope you enjoy it. I certainly enjoyed writing it because, for a change, I actually had some plot to convey! What a treat, since the rest of my book contains very very few plot elements in which things actually happened.
Epilogue
February 17, 1900. It was early morning, so early that the barkeep at the local public house would have considered it February 16. Outside the Lucan hospital, a man paced back and forth, bundled up in a heavy coat and thick wool hat. He stamped his feet and snorted, just as the horses did who traveled down this road on cold winter nights such as this one. He blew on his fingers to warm them, forgetting the warm mittens placed in his pocket.
When a wagon pulled up, the man’s eyes brightened and he ran forward to grab the reins that were tossed down.
“Doctor?” he asked, a desperation in his voice that was audible to the most casual listener.
“That’s me,” said the young man, “Dr. Marcus Rheaume.” Without another word, the doctor rushed into the brightly-lit foyer of the hospital. The man was left to rub the horse down, enclose it in a warm blanket, and fix it to the hitching post around the side of the hospital.
By the time the man re-entered the hospital, all was silent again. There was a suggestion of activity from the upper floor of the establishment, in the sound of slippered footsteps passing back and forth, and a lamp that flickered as if someone were passing in front of it repeatedly.
A placid young woman sat behind a desk. She looked up as he entered, and smiled kindly.
“How is she?” he asked, fingers clutching at the hat he’d snatched from his head.
“No news, sir. Please have a seat, and when the doctor has news, he’ll come and tell you himself.”
Today I decided to title my novel Under an Orange Sky, because of the song that inspired some of the pivotal moments of the book.
And that's about all I have to say - the book is terrible, but I'm proud of it, precisely because it is so terrible. It would have been easier to stop and throw it out, but I stuck with it. And, as Chris Baty says that someone else says, you should love your failed experiments as you would an ugly child.
Anyway, an excerpt. It is interesting mainly because I decided to top off my inaccurate 1920's historical fiction with some inaccurate turn-of-the-century historical fiction. I hope you enjoy it. I certainly enjoyed writing it because, for a change, I actually had some plot to convey! What a treat, since the rest of my book contains very very few plot elements in which things actually happened.
Epilogue
February 17, 1900. It was early morning, so early that the barkeep at the local public house would have considered it February 16. Outside the Lucan hospital, a man paced back and forth, bundled up in a heavy coat and thick wool hat. He stamped his feet and snorted, just as the horses did who traveled down this road on cold winter nights such as this one. He blew on his fingers to warm them, forgetting the warm mittens placed in his pocket.
When a wagon pulled up, the man’s eyes brightened and he ran forward to grab the reins that were tossed down.
“Doctor?” he asked, a desperation in his voice that was audible to the most casual listener.
“That’s me,” said the young man, “Dr. Marcus Rheaume.” Without another word, the doctor rushed into the brightly-lit foyer of the hospital. The man was left to rub the horse down, enclose it in a warm blanket, and fix it to the hitching post around the side of the hospital.
By the time the man re-entered the hospital, all was silent again. There was a suggestion of activity from the upper floor of the establishment, in the sound of slippered footsteps passing back and forth, and a lamp that flickered as if someone were passing in front of it repeatedly.
A placid young woman sat behind a desk. She looked up as he entered, and smiled kindly.
“How is she?” he asked, fingers clutching at the hat he’d snatched from his head.
“No news, sir. Please have a seat, and when the doctor has news, he’ll come and tell you himself.”
Hurray! You are done! Congratulations onn finishing two novels in one year. Despite the fact that you think your novel is terrible, I cannot wait to read it if you will let me.
ReplyDeleteCongrats again!
Of course you can read it! Just because it's terrible is no excuse for me to keep this work of daring creativity under wraps. :)
ReplyDelete