Confessions of a Writer
by Brandi Ziegler
Don’t fear making a mistake; fear failing to learn and move forward.
~ Pilip Humbert
So I’ve decided to post a monthly confession. During the summer of last year I sent my MS out into the literary world seeking representation. I got a lot of bites, a handful of partials and a full request. They all eventually passed and gave me great advice. Since then I’ve done some major revisions. I added something that wasn’t mentioned, but I realized was a major faux pas.
Confession: My original MS didn’t have a love interest.
I’m sure when my beta-readers read this they’ll gasp. Like them, I cannot imagine my book without these scenes:
Out of the corner of her eye she saw another flash of color. Focusing upon it, she saw it was indeed a young man. Her jaw dropped. Not only a man, but the first and most beautiful hybrid she had ever seen. His skin was the color of copper. His honey-hued eyes studied her as if she were a horse for sale; they glowed, a sign meaning he was instilled with Ilmari’s Breath, something only she saw in others. Shocks of blonde stood out in his wild dark mane. He was garbed in layers of dark leather which stretched across his physique in the most complimentary way. The man was obviously part Kirukan. She wondered if one of his parents was a Treslander – no, he was much too tall. Why was he going around throwing nuts at unsuspecting trekkers? She closed her mouth, suddenly self-conscious.
Chloe stepped forward, meaning to question him. As she did he flashed a brilliant smile and fled in the opposite direction. Chloe hesitated but then felt compelled to pursue him.
Chloe, my protagonist, eventually catches up with her love interest.
He turned and beckoned her to join him as if she were an old friend. She was armed – with more than just her staff – and intrigued, so she submitted.
Chloe climbed onto the boulder and propped her staff on top of her crossed legs. She noticed their knees were almost touching. He smelled wild, earthy. His chest swelled and Chloe wondered what he thought she smelled like. She looked at him as if to ask, What next? He smiled and said “Salutations.”
That one word vibrated through Chloe’s entire body. She swallowed before replying, “Good morrow.”
He basked in her response the way a man soaked in the sun rays. “My name is Nicholae,” he said, and before she could respond he continued, “and you are Chloe Delacor, Zor Marelle.”
Chloe went rigid. She was struck by two things: his name, as lovely as his face, and his knowledge of her identity. He was part Kirukan. They were the ones who called her and her kind Zor Marelle. Chloe was the Zor Marelle of Life, and this Nicholae obviously knew.
His palm on her thigh shocked her from her thoughts.
Nicholae is always a top-three favorite for everyone who’s read my MS. And yet, I must confess he didn’t exist until this last summer! Now that I’ve gone and shared a big boo boo (that eventually turns into something amazing), what kind of confessions are you willing to fess up?