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You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you're working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success - but only if you persist.
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Saturday, August 6

Snip

-----Unedited Rewrite-----

The bumps from potholes rocked the bus, lulling me to sleep.

Dad stopped the boat, jumping overboard for a swim. Coming up for air, he said, "Shanna."

He was probably twenty feet from the boat. So, I dove in. The cool water caressed my skin as I swam to Dad. Each time I would look for him, he was farther away. Soon, my muscle's were screaming and the water was tossing me around. Now, when I looked, Dad was saying something.

"Dad, you're to far away. Stay there. I'll swim to you." The sky was so gray it looked black, lightning flashed. Through the greenish water, I could barely see him. Next time I looked, he was gone.

Startled, I opened my eyes.

"Stand up." The pits on the agent's face seemed deeper up close. Over his shoulder, Shanna could see angular gray lines that blocked the view of an amazing pink and purple sunset. Razor wire covered both sides of the three chain link fences surrounded this chunk of concrete that was supposed to be a building.

1 Comments:

at 8:12 AM, August 07, 2005, Blogger Carter said...

Get out of my dreams!!! :-)

Good stuff. Thanks.

 

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