Michelle's corner

...24 little hours... or in this case, nine months.

Mid February, I recorded the mind dump of the first chapter of, "The White Wizard," demonstrating the choices I made and how I went from mind dump to first polish.

That first chapter went like this...

It began some twenty generations ago. All it took was a picturesque location, two people, and love; both for each other and the place they decided to settle in. As a result the village didn't have a name as such. Its five hundred-ish population just called it home.

 

As the years rolled by, traders came and went. Some decided to pitch their wagons permanently and became a part of the peaceful but thriving community. That people with such wander-lust and self-purpose could decide to unhitch their wagons and become homesteaders, was testament to just how beautiful the place really was.

 

Its gentle, rolling landscape, the scented trees, tame river; it was a true feast for the eyes and brought peace to the heart and soul. No one really felt the need for anything more than what they already had, which was their wood huts, their livestock and each other.

 

The huts were surrounded by a protective wall of wood and beyond it, the fields were worked for food.

And now, after nine months and another few 50,000 word novels published, I have started re-writing it once more...

A picturesque location, two people and love. That was all it took some twenty generations ago, to found the settlement. It didn't have a name as such, but some five hundred people called it home.

 

Not all were born from the original love birds that nested there. Travellers and merchants of various skills and trades were smitten by the area. A bullet of natural beauty shot dead their wanderlust. They unhitched their wagons and became happy homesteaders, content to play their part in the community of peace and togetherness.

 

The gentle, rolling landscape, the scented trees, tame river; it was a true feast for the eyes and brought peace to the heart and soul. No one really felt the need for anything more than what they already had, which was their wood huts, their livestock and each other.

 

The community, although gentle, was not foolish. They had erected a protective wall of wooden posts, with gates at both the East and West; although living memory had never seen them closed.

It is interesting to see how I have changed, as a writer, in just a short span of time.

I'm even going to change...

A bullet of natural beauty shot dead their wanderlust.

...to...

Their wanderlust slain by a bullet of natural beauty.