Thursday, March 8, 2018

A Writing Exercise

Today’s post is a little work and a little fun – hopefully. This is something I wrote about a week ago and am just now doing some “wordsmithing” on it, mainly spelling and grammar. But I thought it might be fun to post anyhow. Here it is.

I’m still trying to move the dial on a story I have in my mind. I know it’s going to be a mystery, but I keep changing things in my mind. Everything from the location to the characters to overall plot; not that there’s much plot to work with yet.

Why does it have to be so hard? Many successful authors say just let the words come out. Don’t plan it. I’m not sure that will work for me. Possibly I need to just relax and not worry about when it gets done. Did I ever say I had a deadline? I don’t remember one. So here goes…

He woke up with dry mouth and a small headache. It wasn’t the whisky. He knew that. He had drunk more on other nights. And he fell asleep not because of the drinking, but really because he was so tired from what he did all day.

It had started off well enough. But after the flat tire just as he arrived, things went downhill quickly. When he went fishing, his fly rod broke. Then he slipped on the rocks and fell in the stream. After he climbed out of the water, he knew he had ruined his cell phone as well as soaking his wallet and everything in it. It was going to be one of those days.

When he got back to his Land Rover, he remembered that he had left his flat tire and gone fishing. Now, he had to fix the tire. He couldn’t call anyone. The phone was dead. And he was at least twenty miles from home and only about an hour before darkness arrived. He had a moment of fear when he wondered if he even remembered how to change a tire. He relaxed when he knew he still did.

As he was changing the tire, his mind drifted to what he had to do that evening. For one thing, he had to make a decision as what he was going to do with the situation at the shop. It had been too long burning a hole in his stomach. He was never good at confrontations. And this one seemed like it was going to be a doozy.

Twenty minutes later, he was in the Rover. He turned the key and nothing happened.



(Calibri 13)

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