I recently wrote about showing emotion in a story. My theory is that if your character doesn’t react and show emotion, the reader doesn’t get the full impact of it either. I wrote a scene for SOLSTICE RETRIBUTION, my Muddy River novella that I really liked, but it didn’t hit as hard as I wanted it to. And then I remembered my own theory. So I put it to use. And I thought I’d share the difference between the before and after. Hopefully, the second version is better:)
FIRST TRY:
We all scrambled to keep up with Drago as we walked to the central cauldron. It was a comfortable night. The sun hinged on the horizon, painting it with rose and gold, and would be gone soon. The gong rang before we reached our destination, and when we got there, it looked like every witch had come to attend the last ceremony. The area was crowded, witches packed together in a tight cluster.
We stood near the back, behind the ring of women. Voices hushed as Beatrix climbed stairs to a platform so that everyone could see her. She wore a long, flowing black robe and carried her wand. Once she had everyone’s attention, she raised her arms. “We call upon Hecate, our goddess, to bless our final night of solstice festivities.”
A shiver raced up my spine. This was the last celebration of our goddess. Tomorrow, witches partied. Would Hecate be happy with this festival?
Beatrix performed all of the usual rituals, and I took comfort in the old traditions. There was something to be said for pomp and circumstance. Raven and Drago watched, looking slightly nervous. Finally, Beatrix raised her arms to end the ceremony, but before she could close it, a green mist rose from the cauldron. It spiraled upward and grew. Witches fidgeted, wary, as it snaked into individual strands and wove through the crowd. reaching out to touch Beatrix, Moraiah, Ashe, Comfrey, Jezebel, Desdemona, Crystal, Destiny, and Yarrow. It wrapped around them, tightening like a fist. Then the moon turned bloodred.
SECOND TRY:
We all scrambled to keep up with Drago as we walked to the central cauldron. It was a comfortable night. The sun hinged on the horizon, painting the sky with rose and gold. It would be gone soon. The gong rang before we reached our destination, and when we got there, it looked like every witch had come to attend the last ceremony. The area was crowded, witches packed together in a tight cluster.
We stood near the back, behind the ring of women. Voices hushed as Beatrix climbed the stairs to a platform so that everyone could see her. She wore a long, flowing black robe and carried her wand. Once she had everyone’s attention, she raised her arms. “We come to praise Hecate, mother of witches, and to ask her blessings upon us, her followers.”
A shiver raced up my spine. This was the last celebration of our goddess. Tomorrow, witches partied. Would Hecate be pleased with this festival?
Beatrix performed all of the usual rituals that I and my coven performed at every full moon, and I took comfort in the old traditions. There was something to be said for pomp and circumstance. Raven and Drago watched, looking slightly nervous. Finally, Beatrix raised her arms to end the ceremony, and witches stirred, ready to join up with friends, but before she could say her final words, a green mist rose from the cauldron. It spiraled upward and grew. Silence hung heavy in the air. We all watched, mesmerized, fearful. Witches fidgeted, wary, as it snaked into individual strands and began to weave through the crowd.
One witch flinched when it brushed past her. I held my breath, hoping it didn’t reach us. Drago tensed, ready to shift. Flames danced over Raven’s arms. I felt magic build inside me. The mist reached Beatrix, Moraiah, Ashe, Comfrey, Jezebel, Desdemona, Crystal, Destiny, and Yarrow. It wrapped around them, tightening like a fist. Then the moon turned bloodred.
THAT’S IT. HOPE YOUR WRITING IS GOING WELL! JULY’S ALMOST OVER. ENJOY THE END OF SUMMER.