"In his mind it was always a brisk autumn afternoon, late in the
day, the sun setting to a perfect pitch of warm yellow and soft blue and
delightful red. It was his memory of days that like that caused him to hate the
humid days of summer."
Then I found the rest of the unfinished story in my edit files.
Here’s what it looks like, here’s what a writers conversion with himself looks like.
WHAT
SHE DID FOR HIM.
In his mind it was always a brisk autumn
afternoon, late in the day, the sun setting to a perfect pitch of comfortable (Comfortable? Change
that, easy might fit better) yellow (Not yellow, I don’t even like that color ) and soft blue and delightful red. (Delightful
is a dumb word to use)
And because of that (Because of what? Finish the thought) he looked on this hot (This day or that
day, should be that day) and humid July day as an annoying, tactless
intruder. In fact, everything about that day annoyed him, not a lot, but enough
to alter his naturally good and happy disposition.
(You don’t need good and happy, he sound like a
candy bar)
As they walked he frowned at the bit and
pieces of trash strewn in the gutter and he silently shook his head in
disapproval of the type of people who would toss it there. Then (Don’t need then, when else would it have happened?)
a cloud floated in front of the sun blocking out its
rays (To wordy “a cloud block the suns ray”
except add “Warm” to rays) and he raised his eyes
to the cloud in a way meant to imply to the cloud that he was displeased with
the cloud and its blocking actions. (Overkill,
the reader gets it….he raised a displeased eye to the cloud)
“Stupid cloud” he thought to himself but loud enough for the cloud to hear. (Drop the last part, it’s stupid)
“Look” she said pointing to the gutter that was besieged with the litter he so disapproved of.
(Change “Where he had only noticed the litter” it
sets up the difference between them and besieged is out of place too)
He stopped and looked and seeing nothing he
asked “What?”
“The dandelion” she said. “It grew from a
crack in the sidewalk. Look at how pretty it is. Look at the colors”
He looked but didn’t see the dandelion. But
that didn’t matter. There would be other dandelions. What mattered is that she
saw in him a man who would like to know about tenacious dandelions that grow
out of sidewalks. (Connect to last sentence with “A
man who”) What mattered is that she saw in him a man who would appreciate (Change to
appreciate) brilliant colors.
What mattered was that when he, in this foreign dark mood of his, (Drop the entire mood thing, the reader gets it already) saw only litter in the gutter, she saw
flowers. And that was why he loved her.
This is what the edit version
looks like. If I ever return to the file and write a story to go along with the
opening this is what the paragraphs will
look like in the first edit.
WHAT
SHE DID FOR HIM.
In his mind it was always a brisk autumn
afternoon, late in the day, the sun setting to a perfect pitch of soft browns and
red. And because of it was always a late day in a New England Autumn in his mind
he despised that humid July day.
As they walked he frowned at the bit and
pieces of trash strewn in the gutter and he silently shook his head in
disapproval. A cloud blocked the sun and he raised a displeased eye to the skies.
“Stupid cloud”
“Look” she said pointing to the gutter.
He
stopped and looked and seeing nothing he asked “What?”
“The dandelion” she said. “It grew from a
crack in the sidewalk. Look at how pretty it is. Look at the colors”
He looked but didn’t see the dandelion. It didn’t
matter. There would be other dandelions. What mattered is that she saw in him a
man who would like to know about tenacious dandelions that grow out of
sidewalks, a man who would appreciate brilliant colors. What mattered was that when he saw only
litter in the gutter, she saw flowers. And that was why he loved her.
.....and here's a dog hitting another dog with his tail...because if we don't laugh, what the hell's the point of it all?
