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The Prompt
The Self-Edited Draft
Last week, our authors posted their unedited first drafts, letting the story ideas flow uninhibited. Not surprisingly, many found this step challenging. Some were so used to backtracking and revising on the fly that letting the words just be was almost as anxiety inducing as staring at a blank page. Others adopted never-before-seen outline/scene hybrid tactics to help organize their ideas. No matter the approach, the goal of Writer In Motion is to show an author’s creative process from start to finish, and capturing the thoughts leading to that first draft is important for the story’s evolution.
This week, the authors took those raw words on a refining journey, each employing their unique developmental skills and editing prowess to polish their rocks into gems. Some revision journeys even came complete with outlines, inline self-commentary, and detailed tracked changes.
Read on to find out how these ten talented authors improved their drafts from rough to revised, producing second drafts to be sent to their critique partners (CPs) for feedback. Based on each other’s comments, the authors will then go through another round of revision and post their results for your viewing pleasure.
Remember, it takes courage to be transparent about what happens behind the writing curtain, so please join us in encouraging the authors by leaving comments on their blogs and tweeting about their stories using #WriterInMotion. Then tune in next week for the next leg of our short story journey!
Homecoming
by C.M. Fick
The radio crackles, speakers buzzing to life for the first time in over eighty-six days. I sit bolt-upright, my breath catching in my throat, and I reach for the dial to hone in on the interference.
We’d given up hope.
Well, at least most of us had when the resupply mission didn’t return from the south. But not me. Winter isn’t here yet.
The Beacon
by David Neuner
Weakness is my greatest strength. It’s my beacon in the darkness, the reason my story continues where so many others have tragically ended.
Waves break on the rocks of the protected cove where blood still stains the turquoise water and smears the white sand. A temporary peace has been ushered in to this remote island, a far cry from the mutilation that the high cliffs towering behind me witnessed last night under a full moon.
La Capitaine
by Dani Frank
He stops riffling her desk at the sound of her pistol cocking and she smiles.
“Bonsoir, mon petit lapin.” A little rabbit. He hates the name. He is a shark, circling for blood.
“Margot,” he coos, drawing out her name. His jaw is sharp as a blade. “Where is the map?”
“That’s Capitaine Margot, Guy.”
Sometimes Our Skies
by Clari
The Giant climbs the mountain one narrow, cut-into-the-slope stair at a time, carrying in her arms a dying spirit of the skies. She pushes against the chilling wind and raindrops swirling before her face, her heart drumming the rhythm, almost there, almost there.
On the eve of the equinox, the Spirit fell from her skies by the wish of a lonely child, and concocted a plan to trick her.
Found and Lost
by Monique Ocampo
“You get Katherine out of here,” I said. “I’ll go up to the top of this place send up the signal. Meet me back here.”
While Andy took the elevator down to the ground floor, I climbed up to the roof of the building, feeling kind of like a superhero, with the cape part of my top fluttering in the wind.
Untitled
by Jen Davenport
“Black as night. Light as day.” Azami choked on her tears as she draped her upper body over the lid of her mom’s casket. “Extinguish the candle of the past. Today we celebrate the present and prepare for the future of tomorrow. We protect our clan, we love our family, and we care for those who cannot care for themselves.” Azami whispered the prayer of their clan, one her mom didn’t get the chance take Azami to meet.
Rainey’s Painting
by PJ Powell
Amadeus, a fluffy orange cat, nestled into a blanket on the airship’s deck, his tiny nostrils flaring in the breeze, the perfect subject for Rainey’s cloud portrait.
Rainey’s parents’ airship wasn’t outfitted for cloud painting, and without the low hanging perch on the bottom of the ship, she’d had to improvise. She imagined herself a famous cloud painter, flowing through the sky.
The Imposter We Traded
by Talynn Lynn
Every morning is the same.
Every morning I wake to carnival day.
Today, though, I have my key. A silver key with a twisted metal handle, a sapphire stone half moon and engraved stars. There’s a tiny inscription on the moon, but it’s so small, I’ve never been able to read it.
The Painter or Endless Blue Nothing
by Tyler Zeoli
Rayne climbed the ladder one rung at a time into the endless blue nothing.
Normally the night crew would still be there, plucking each star out of the sky as the lights in the dome grew brighter and brighter, with no apparent source.
Beneath her, the colony shrunk to a small, featureless grid. Rayne used to wonder what she looked like to them. Now she knows most people never look up.
The Drowning Game
by Kristin Record
He’s gone. There’s no more denying it. Days of expecting him to walk through the door bled into one another until the ugly truth remained. He’s dead.
The celebration was in full swing. Flames jumped high from the bonfire, crimson and blue tendrils reflecting off the still water. Bodies swayed to the beat of Celtic music that hung in the air, heavy with sorrow.
Want to read even more awesome self-edited drafts?
We’re beyond delighted to have so many brave souls from the writing community join us in this round of Writer In Motion! Be sure to visit our Week 2 Forum as well and check out their stories inspired by the prompt.