Headphones was an experiment, a story written in "snapshots", a serial, a comic in word form-- call it what you will. It ran for one year plus one day-- January 1st of 2015 to January 1st of 2016. It was the story of a group of friends who took in a damaged girl and helped her find herself. But on the way, she helped them fill the holes in their own lives. I've pulled it now with the hopes of rewriting it into a book. Each day was matched with a music video and each month's mixes are still here. So if you've stumbled in, enjoy the music, and hopefully I'll be able to post updates occasionally!


Friday, February 17, 2017

Opinions Wanted!

My latest project is a contemporary romance. The MCs are Cherry and Ben. I originally intended to write this in 3rd person, but I'm not feeling it. Which isn't unusual for me. It seems I need to get a few chapters in before I find the flow. The conundrum here is whether to stick with my original plan, or maybe go with a dual POV, giving both my guys some star time. So, opening page here written both ways. Opinions are very much wanted! Thanks

3rd person:
The roar of the motorcycle shattered the peace of the evening, and Cherry imagined that the sunset’s reflection in the small lake rippled with the vibrations. He glared as the intruder flipped the kickstand down and swung his leg over the seat, but his icy gaze thawed slightly as the man pulled off his jacket to reveal tight black jeans that displayed trim hips and a nice ass. Cherry’s resentment at the interruption evaporated completely as the man removed his helmet and shook out his jaw-length black hair. Motorcycle-man caught the glare thrown his way and crossed the grassy area between the two campsites. Cherry fumbled to rise from the low lawn-chair as he extending his hand.
“Ben Torres,” he offered. Swarthy skin and dark eyes set off a dazzling smile, drying Cherry’s mouth so suddenly that he found himself unable to form words.
Cherry wasn’t exactly suave at the best of times, and gorgeous men made him more awkward than usual. With a deep breath, he pulled myself together and stated, “Cherry.” Ben didn’t release his hand as he tilted his head while his mouth tipped up on one side, as did a thick eyebrow. Cherry felt sweat break out at the back of his neck and he rattled out a clarification, “Uh, Charles Andrews. The third. Grandpa was Charles, Dad is Charlie.” He pointed towards his auburn hair with the hand not still in Ben’s possession. “It was really red when I was a kid, so they called me Cherry. Guess it stuck.” He was babbling, and a blush spread across his cheeks. His normally pale face was redder than his hair ever had been. “Thank goodness it mellowed as I got older,” he rattled the last as his voice faded.
Ben pretended to not notice. “Nice to meet you, Cherry.” He rewarded his neighbor with another of those bright smiles, this time displaying deep dimples. He loosened his grip with a final squeeze and Cherry looked at his empty hand as if something was missing, but he couldn’t remember what exactly. “Mind if I set up next to you? Only spot with no trees.” It was obvious that Cherry didn’t understand the comment, because Ben laughed. “I’d prefer to not wake up to bird shit on my bike.”
Cherry shook his head side to side but didn’t make a sound. Ben crossed the grass and started fiddling with the hitch of the small trailer and unhooking the latches. Cherry expected him to pull out a tent much like his own as he pushed the lid back, but instead, he spent a few moments bracing the stabilizer jacks before sliding out a flat platform and sticking some silver poles in unseen holes. With a flip of canvas, he had a temporary home. The camper looked barely big enough to hold an adult, but at least Ben wouldn’t wake up on a half-deflated air mattress with a crick in his back.


1st person:
Cherry
The roar of the motorcycle pulling into the campsite next to mine shattered the peace of the evening, and I imagined that the sunset’s reflection in the small lake rippled with the vibrations. I glared as the intruder flipped the kickstand down and swung his leg over the seat, but my icy gaze thawed slightly as the man pulled off his jacket to reveal tight black jeans that displayed trim hips and a nice ass. My resentment at the interruption evaporated completely as the man removed his helmet and shook out his jaw-length black hair. He noticed me watching and stepped my way. I fumbled to rise from my low lawn-chair as he crossed the space between us, extending his hand.
“Ben Torres,” he offered. A bright smile set off by swarthy skin and dark eyes, almost as black as his hair, dazzled me, making my mouth suddenly unable to form words.
I wasn’t exactly suave at the best of times, and gorgeous men made me more awkward than usual. With a deep breath, I pulled myself together and stated, “Cherry.” Ben didn’t release my hand as he tilted his head while his mouth tipped up on one side, as did a thick eyebrow. I felt sweat break out at the back of my neck and I rattled out my clarification, “Uh, Charles Andrews. The third. Grandpa was Charles, Dad is Charlie.” Like a total duff, I pointed towards my auburn hair with the hand not still in his possession. “It was really red when I was a kid, so they called me Cherry. Guess it stuck.” I was babbling, and I could feel the heat of a blush spread across my cheeks. Experience told me that my normally pale face was redder than my hair ever had been. “Thank goodness it mellowed as I got older,” I rattled the last as my voice faded.
Ben pretended to not notice. “Nice to meet you, Cherry.” He rewarded me with another of those bright smiles, this time displaying deep dimples. He loosened his grip with a final squeeze and I looked at my empty hand as if something was missing, but I couldn’t remember what exactly. “Mind if I set up next to you? Only spot with no trees.” I guess it was obvious that I didn’t understand the comment, because he laughed. “I’d prefer to not wake up to bird shit on my bike.”
I shook my head side to side but didn’t make a sound. Ben crossed the grass and started fiddling with the hitch of the small trailer and unhooking the latches. I expected him to pull out a tent much like my own as he pushed the lid back, but instead, he spent a few moments bracing the stabilizer jacks before sliding out a flat platform and sticking some silver poles in unseen holes. With a flip of canvas, he had a temporary home. The camper looked barely big enough to hold an adult, but at least Ben wouldn’t wake up on a half-deflated air mattress with a crick in his back.


1 comment:

  1. I like the second version better, but I recommend changing the first paragraph's "icy gaze" reference because it's more of a third-person description

    ReplyDelete