Return of the Line

Something I have been working on is finally nearing completion. My first novel, Correction Line, has been going through a major expansion and restructuring. This is a book I've always believed in (I am betting a lot of writer's say that) - but it is something that I have returned to over the years thinking, "Well, time to move on, a good first effort, but it's time to shelve it." When you revisit old work, whether it is artwork, songs you wrote in high school, or poems from your early twenties (yikes), the usual response is: aiighh, what was I thinking creating such tripe?

I have written and published a lot of stories since I "finished" that novel - and I've started another novel, and a novella and many more stories. I believe I have developed as a writer in technique, voice, narrative structure and even maturity. So when I gave Correction Line a close read a few months back, I thought I would go" aiighh, what I thinking...

But I didn't. The book held up well. Really well. And for the first time I believe I found what was missing (along with the help of another writer friend thank-you, Ania).

So these last few months I have been growing the novel, filling it out, deepening the narrative universe (!) - taking care not to just add filler. The first version was 63,000, this new one rounds out at 80,000.

I am very close to finishing this new version and I am feeling quite excited about it. I'll see if agents feel the same way this fall.

Here is a small chunk:

Lucy sat at a table aware of a presence, someone across from her. The room was cast in a blue light. It was like being underwater, the table, her chair, the walls swam in and out of focus. On the table shone a gas lamp, but it did not emit enough to create the effect. The man across from her wore a shirt that glowed to life, a deep yellow. She knew it was a dream. Although, she didn’t know where she slept, what other reality her body currently occupied. Her mother had taught her this awareness, and told her it was important to think of both states, be present to the dream space but stay tethered to the physical place where her body lay.

“You’re dreaming.” The man’s shirt pulsed.

“I know.”

“Am I?”

It was Dave.

“Probably.”

“You’re coming to see me. To help.” His voice warbled.

“I can’t help you. You’ll die just like mom.”

Dave stood and walked around the table, yellow light washed down his legs and spilt onto the floor. Something hummed in the distance, maybe a generator or a transformer station.

“There was a time when you would help. A time when you and I were much closer.”

The humming filled Lucy’s head and she flashed to another place. Her and Dave were outside his house, a summer day, she pruned the trees, Dave planted something. He turned and looked at her smiling, then the expression shifted, something in his eyes startled her. She knew the time, it was shortly after she had moved in with him.

Another flash and she was back in the blue room.

“ I was wrong.”

“About?”

“Everything. You, what I was doing with my life, how my father disappearing was not rejection. And mostly how being with you was a bad idea.”