Good Words, Barbara

Manning sat in the arrow of shade cast by the obelisk at Red Slave, a small pile of cigarette butts at his side.

Barbara, you paint a really vivid picture with those few words. I see Manning with white pants and shirt, no socks, wearing locally made sandals. He's got a three day growth, maybe four, and blond hair. I like it a lot. And I mentioned dusting off "Slow Dancing" for a rewrite. Here's a little bit that may be going in. (She's talking with Bernie here)

Angie pursed her lips together, and pulled down the corners.
"What were you thinking," she said. "You bring a colored around like that. First you take up with one, and then you bring her around." She said all this with her eyes down on her plate, but then brought her hard, pitying, uncomprehending gaze to meet his eyes. "What'd you think'd happen?"
Bernie set his fork on the plate. "Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, can't help lovin' that gal o' mine."
"Well, ain't that special," she said.
"Maybe it was mistake."
"I'll say it was."
"But it was the best mistake I've made in twenty years."

I agree that last night's group was outstanding. Even being so tired, I put on some music and stayed up until 12:15 comparing and contrasting critique notes. I felt completely overwhelmed - but in a good way. The thing I appreciated most was the encouragement. Barbara, you mentioned that I had hit my stride in the second part; that the writing seemed more at ease. I knew some of it was pretty good, but most of it seemed pale in comparison with the opening. I feel better now about continuing on. A little more confident.

Bob