The joy of revision

So, somehow, from my first draft to my third draft, this is what happened to the mysterious sorceress’ abode:

First Draft

was a cold room, the crumbling stones of the walls seemingly
untouched by the heat of the brazier. Milos fidgeted on the wooden
stool, hooking and unhooking his ankles around its rungs. He rested
his elbow briefly atop a stack of books, but jerked it back at the
thought of their delicate pages crumbling. He strained his eyes to
see as far back as he could into the shadows that cloaked the
room’s corners.

flayed hide of some unknown beast was tacked out on a table
against the opposite wall. He squinted at it, trying to decide what
sort of animal it could have been. Its skin was both scaly and hairy,
its limbs long in proportion to its body. Something about it seemed
bizarrely wrong; scrutinizing it again, he realized it had six legs.
He turned away, feeling a little sick, and tried to find something
more mundane on which to rest his eyes.


Current Draft

room was small but not unpleasant. A rug of plaited and green-dyed
straw covered the pitted floorboards, and framed engravings
illustrating the monuments of the Old Empire hung in neat rows on the
walls. The fat-bellied woodstove, unused at this time of year, stood
open with a spray of dried herbs and flowers resting on its grate. A
flowered curtain divided a sleeping alcove from the rest of the room;
it was pushed back just far enough that he could see the heaps of
embroidered cushions littering the netting-draped bed.


Vive le difference… also, watch for an exciting announcement probably later on today.


About Molly Newman

Writer, cook and trivia/spelling bee hostess, living it up in North Portland.
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