I was going to do these one idea at a time, with a snippet for third and first person perspectives, but then Owen woke up and reminded me that time is a luxury, and time to write doubly so. Therefore, I’m going to do these as a round of “auditions”, starting with only one perspective. If they make it to “callbacks”, then I’ll try out the other perspective.
This snippet is for a story that I’ve tentatively titled The Simone Cotton Effect, and here is a basic summary/treatment:
Overachiever Boy meets Joie de Vivre Girl. She turns out to be a representative of the supernatural. While befriending her turns out to be good for him, there’s a nasty side to her remarkable nature and circumstances. He tries to save himself from her, and to save her from the Outer Dark.
Nothing too big happened in this snippet, but then, I’m out of practise and have a baby to take care of. :)
Audition set #1
- Third Person
Nothing could compare to the comforting oppression of a public library on a Saturday. On the fifteen minute walk from his family’s flat to the library’s heavy double doors, David Mercury moved at a hurried hunch. Even in motion, he held his shoulders up as if they were a collar protecting him from rain. The moment he stepped into the library, he relaxed, and reached his full height of five feet and eleven inches.
He let out a sigh of relief. Even from the entrance, he could see his shelf in the small annexed room set aside for holds. It was full. His favourite part of the cycle. Better than the slog of taking notes, and infinitely preferable to the first step: delineating what books he would need next.
After taking the books off of the shelf, he found a quiet table and set up a system of study. He sighed again, this time with a little more dramatic flair. The first page of a thick, leather-bound history book shook under the controlled burst of air from his pursed lips. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he could have just read the awful heavy things. But his memory demanded notes. Detailed notes.
David’s routine settled around him much as the books did. He took out his notebook, a pencil, and two spares. One of them stood as understudy to the one in his left hand. The other, he rolled back and forth with his idle right hand.
When he came to a particularly difficult passage, he lost track of his right hand. The pencil rolled off the table and smacked against the library’s tiled floor.
Wincing, he got up to retrieve it.