I am nearly done with the last scene I need to write to call this first draft done. I am enjoying how it is turning out! I have discovered I can write love scenes without cheapening the feel. I was a little worried when I first started that scene that it would be a complete flop and something I would need to take out in the rewrite.
The last few evenings I have not been in the mood to write. If I feel slightly motivated I will force it, but if I have no patience for sitting down and writing I don’t force it. Which is probably the reason it has taken me so long to write this book. I never want it to become tedious. Once writing becomes tiresome or monotonous I walk away and focus my time on one of my other hobbies.
Since I haven’t been in the mood to write I have opened my word document and started reading and editing the story. Boy does it need some work! It is interesting how my writing has developed over the course of writing this story. I have included the current opening to my book in the post and geez does it suck! I wrote it more than two years ago. I am actually thinking other than the very opening paragraph the rest of it was from when I started this story five-ish years ago. I am currently trying to figure out if I need to scrap it or if there is hope for it yet. I think what I will end up doing is opening a new Word document, and copying from the point where I actually like the story and writing an opening for it. Once I finish fixing this beginning or write a whole new one I will post it. Wish me luck!!
Another wadded up piece of paper went flying across the room. I was starting to amass a pile of paper cross the living room floor. The sun was starting to rise, I had already been up for a couple of hours. I was, as usual, sitting at the piano with cup of coffee. I was starting to doubt if I would ever finish the simple piece of music I had been composing for the past year. My inspiration was lacking and I was starting to doubt my decision of quitting my teaching job to concentrate on my music. I couldn’t focus on the task at hand, my mind kept wandering back to happier times. I stared out across the piano through the wall of windows overlooking the pond. Watching the wind whip through the trees and the rain hit the glass, I reminisced over the events that led me to building this woodland sanctuary I had lived in for the past few years.
Ana would have never allowed us to live here. It was too rural; no one of consequence would have known she existed. There were no cocktail parties, no one to impress. The trees and the quietness would have unnerved her. She would have jumped at the owls hooting. I, on the other hand, loved it. Most people in the small town of five thousand people had no idea who I was other than some guy from Boston with money. There was no need to pretend to like people, no need to hide my colored past. The folks around here were genuinely nice, although I did not have too much contact with them. I only ventured into town when I needed. I preferred the solidarity of my home and my music.
My house was ten miles outside of town, down a dirt road. The drive was almost impossible to find in the dark. The first few times I had David and Olivia over, they missed the drive, so I put a reflector up at the entrance. I’ve seen field paths that looked more traveled, even so I still installed a gate to keep people away. The driveway is about a mile possible a mile and half of winding around trees and ponds. About a quarter-mile down the drive the trees open up to small meadow with a path at the far edge that goes to one of the four ponds on the property. I like walking there for peace when I can’t possible work any longer.
The house is my creation. Edmund my dearest friend and architect helped me design the perfect sanctuary. The house blended in with the woods with its cedar siding and its elevated A-frame design. Edmund was so used to designing huge mansions for people who like to show off how much money they made a year. He was excited to work on something that would blend into the surroundings. The property was 600 acres, a combination of ponds, woods, and farm land. Most of which in the two years of living here I had still not seen. I had found places I enjoyed going when the mood struck.