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Date Posted: 21:18:25 07/01/09 Wed
Author: Page
Subject: Wednesday, I think, will be my check-in day >>>>
In reply to: Page 's message, "My last 500" on 21:05:41 07/01/09 Wed

So, here's my catch-up. A major plot point was pointed out to me by Jay, and involves re-writing much of the beginning of the book. But it'll be worth it. I hope. *fingers crossed* But I've been working on it in bits and pieces. Things do need to be changed in later chapters to accomodate this new development, but these changes are, in the main, short and easy, and I've been working on these while I try to gather my thoughts for the beginning.

The painting of the living room has been postponed, to mixed feelings of relief and consternation. I mean, I want to get it done, but I really dread the doing. This house was a rental for years, and there are so many nail holes in the wall it looks like a missile site. All those will have to be spackled and sanded, along with the moving of the furniture, the covering of said furniture and hardwood floors, sanding the baseboards, removing the blades of the ceiling fan, and on and on and on, and I just don't wanna. *G* So maybe by August. We'll see.

I finished the first chapter, and Katie's first meeting with Adam. It's essentially the same as it was, with a few changes I felt make it lots better. If you'd like to see it, just tell me, and I'll post it. But the last 500 words I wrote came this afternoon, and are in the second chapter:

Excerpt from working title Carey On
©2009 by Juli Morgan
Posted for purposes of critique, and does not constitute publication

Katie ignored her uncomfortable state temporarily in order to take in the view when Adam dropped the quilt. Her eyebrows rose in feminine appreciation at the sight of the smooth round globes of his ass before they were covered with denim. She watched him shuffle to the table where he lit a cigarette, and admired again the tempting planes of his back. She would like to explore things a little further with him, but first things first. Letting go with another moan as her muscles protested more movement, she rolled over and sat up. “Groovy. I’ll get my shampoo and toothbrush.”

The tiny shower down the hall left Katie clean, but unimpressed with British plumbing. It had taken almost fifteen minutes to rinse all the shampoo and conditioner from her hair as the shower head spit and hissed thin sprays of water at her, like an angry serpent that thought her unworthy of its venom. She was even less impressed with British toilet paper. The roll Adam had handed her before leaving her to her ablutions left a lot to be desired. Katie decided loo-paper might be more effective than sheets of plastic, but not by much.

Feeling refreshed in spite of the inconveniences of the hallway bathroom, she returned to Adam’s flat, and her long-neglected stomach set up a clamor at the tempting scent of eggs frying in butter, letting her know in no uncertain terms it did not appreciate the neglect she’d inflicted on it of late. “Oh, far out. I’m starving!”

“I thought you might be.” Adam turned from the miniscule stove and gestured with the spatula toward the table in the center of the room. “There’s coffee, too.” A blue porcelain cup sent tendrils of steam skyward, and Katie headed to it with alacrity.

“Oh, nectar of the gods,” she breathed, before taking a careful sip. Okay, maybe not nectar of the gods, but it was still coffee, and Katie drank half the cup before looking up again. “Are you bucking for sainthood? Because if you are, you have my vote, for what it’s worth.”

“Saint Adam of the eggs and Nescafe,” he laughed, carrying two mismatched plates to the table.

At the word “Nescafe,” the mystery of the coffee was solved. Combine instant coffee with their toilet paper, and Katie was no longer curious as to why the British Empire had fallen.

They were silent as they gave their full attention to their eggs and toast, the only sounds the clinking of forks against the plates. Katie was amazed to realize she’d just inhaled three eggs and two pieces of toast, and was mopping up her plate with a third. Embarrassed, she put the piece of toast down, and glanced up at Adam to see if he’d witnessed her imitation of a pig at a trough. She was relieved that he hadn’t seemed to notice, busy running his own bread around his plate in an effort to capture every stray bit of egg and butter. He’d tied his hair back in a low ponytail, but strands of shining brown had escaped confinement, and swung close to his face as he bent over his plate.

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[> [> Great scene Page -- Debi, 06:42:45 07/02/09 Thu

>Katie ignored her uncomfortable state temporarily in
>order to take in the view when Adam dropped the quilt.
> Her eyebrows rose in feminine appreciation at the
>sight of the smooth round globes of his ass before
>they were covered with denim.

Ahh... what a lovely image...

>The tiny shower down the hall left Katie clean, but
>unimpressed with British plumbing. It had taken almost
>fifteen minutes to rinse all the shampoo and
>conditioner from her hair as the shower head spit and
>hissed thin sprays of water at her, like an angry
>serpent that thought her unworthy of its venom. She
>was even less impressed with British toilet paper.

I concur. I once spent a good ten minutes waiting for the water to get even slightly warm, trying to figure out the on-demand heating system at a hotel in Scotland. I gave up and had a freshen-up instead with a wash cloth (yeah that was cold too, but at least I wasn't *immersed* in freezing water)Granted, the hotel was in Portree, on Skye, and was in the neighborhood of 400 hundred years old.

>Feeling refreshed in spite of the inconveniences of
>the hallway bathroom, she returned to Adam’s flat, and
>her long-neglected stomach set up a clamor at the
>tempting scent of eggs frying in butter, letting her
>know in no uncertain terms it did not appreciate the
>neglect she’d inflicted on it of late.

One nit to pick; a form of 'neglect' was used twice in the preceding passage. I'm guilty of this transgression more times than I can count, I'm amazed I picked it up.

Combine instant coffee with their toilet
>paper, and Katie was no longer curious as to why the
>British Empire had fallen.

I *love* this. No wonder, indeed.
I love the whole thing, as a matter of fact. Katie is funny and human. Any one of us would have the same thoughts rambling through our heads, but you gave her's a voice we can hear. Excellent.
Debi

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[> [> [> Thank you, Debi! >>> -- Page, 21:29:06 07/03/09 Fri

>>Katie ignored her uncomfortable state temporarily in
>>order to take in the view when Adam dropped the quilt.
>> Her eyebrows rose in feminine appreciation at the
>>sight of the smooth round globes of his ass before
>>they were covered with denim.
>
>Ahh... what a lovely image...

Yeah, Adam is a lovely guy, and I was concerned when all my beta readers told me they didn't like him. I think I was in such a hurry for Katie to get with Jay, that I allowed Adam to become a huge nuisance, instead of a sensitive man who fell in love with a girl, and lost her to his best friend. During this re-write of the beginning, I'm determined to make sure Adam is brought to life, and not just a plot device.


>>Feeling refreshed in spite of the inconveniences of
>>the hallway bathroom, she returned to Adam’s flat, and
>>her long-neglected stomach set up a clamor at the
>>tempting scent of eggs frying in butter, letting her
>>know in no uncertain terms it did not appreciate the
>>neglect she’d inflicted on it of late.
>
>One nit to pick; a form of 'neglect' was used twice in
>the preceding passage. I'm guilty of this
>transgression more times than I can count, I'm amazed
>I picked it up.

I'm glad you did! I read over this quite a few times, and didn't see it til you pointed it out! Thank you!
>
>Combine instant coffee with their toilet
>>paper, and Katie was no longer curious as to why the
>>British Empire had fallen.
>
>I *love* this. No wonder, indeed.
>I love the whole thing, as a matter of fact. Katie is
>funny and human. Any one of us would have the same
>thoughts rambling through our heads, but you gave
>her's a voice we can hear. Excellent.
>Debi

Thank you!!!

Last edited by author: Fri July 03, 2009 21:29:57   Edited 1 time.

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[> [> Hey Page! >>> -- Esther, 11:43:53 07/02/09 Thu

So, here's my catch-up. A major plot point was pointed out to me by Jay, and involves re-writing much of the beginning of the book. But it'll be worth it. I hope. *fingers crossed* But I've been working on it in bits and pieces. Things do need to be changed in later chapters to accomodate this new development, but these changes are, in the main, short and easy, and I've been working on these while I try to gather my thoughts for the beginning.

Awesome! And just for the record I can’t wait to read what you do with the beginning. I truly appreciate how much effort goes into starting off the strongest way possible. Post it when you’re done, k?

The painting of the living room has been postponed, to mixed feelings of relief and consternation. I mean, I want to get it done, but I really dread the doing. This house was a rental for years, and there are so many nail holes in the wall it looks like a missile site. All those will have to be spackled and sanded, along with the moving of the furniture, the covering of said furniture and hardwood floors, sanding the baseboards, removing the blades of the ceiling fan, and on and on and on, and I just don't wanna. *G* So maybe by August. We'll see.

Well, crap. That’s not fair. *G* I’m smelling the sickening scent of paint as we speak. After bitching about all the splatter of paint and stains of various compounds mixed, stirred, slopped and spilled on the basement floor (and not wiped up), the DH decided to paint it. So….not your everyday no scent paint. And a constant moving of crap from one place to another as he paints in sections. Am I really destined to be alone in my misery???? *G*

I finished the first chapter, and Katie's first meeting with Adam. It's essentially the same as it was, with a few changes I felt make it lots better. If you'd like to see it, just tell me, and I'll post it. But the last 500 words I wrote came this afternoon, and are in the second chapter:

Well duh! I’d like to see it. *grumble*

Excerpt from working title Carey On
©2009 by Juli Morgan
Posted for purposes of critique, and does not constitute publication

Katie ignored her uncomfortable state temporarily in order to take in the view when Adam dropped the quilt. Her eyebrows rose in feminine appreciation at the sight of the smooth round globes of his ass before they were covered with denim. She watched him shuffle to the table where he lit a cigarette, and admired again the tempting planes of his back. She would like to explore things a little further with him, but first things first. Letting go with another moan as her muscles protested more movement, she rolled over and sat up. “Groovy. I’ll get my shampoo and toothbrush.”

hmmm. Katie seems to have explored things quite a bit with him already. *G* A view of his ass, the bare back, getting out from underneath the quilt…*sigh*

The tiny shower down the hall left Katie clean, but unimpressed with British plumbing. It had taken almost fifteen minutes to rinse all the shampoo and conditioner from her hair as the shower head spit and hissed thin sprays of water at her, like an angry serpent that thought her unworthy of its venom. She was even less impressed with British toilet paper. The roll Adam had handed her before leaving her to her ablutions left a lot to be desired. Katie decided loo-paper might be more effective than sheets of plastic, but not by much.

Feeling refreshed in spite of the inconveniences of the hallway bathroom, she returned to Adam’s flat, and her long-neglected stomach set up a clamor at the tempting scent of eggs frying in butter, letting her know in no uncertain terms it did not appreciate the neglect she’d inflicted on it of late. “Oh, far out. I’m starving!”

“I thought you might be.” Adam turned from the miniscule stove and gestured with the spatula toward the table in the center of the room. “There’s coffee, too.” A blue porcelain cup sent tendrils of steam skyward, and Katie headed to it with alacrity.

Awww

“Oh, nectar of the gods,” she breathed, before taking a careful sip. Okay, maybe not nectar of the gods, but it was still coffee, and Katie drank half the cup before looking up again. “Are you bucking for sainthood? Because if you are, you have my vote, for what it’s worth.”

“Saint Adam of the eggs and Nescafe,” he laughed, carrying two mismatched plates to the table.

At the word “Nescafe,” the mystery of the coffee was solved. Combine instant coffee with their toilet paper, and Katie was no longer curious as to why the British Empire had fallen.

What mystery of the coffee was there? By her drinking half the cup, I was under the impression it was good, the okay maybe not nectar of the gods, didn’t give me the impression the coffee was bad, but rather or perhaps she liked another drink better, not necessarily that the coffee wasn’t up to snuff because it was instant. If that makes any sense?

They were silent as they gave their full attention to their eggs and toast, the only sounds the clinking of forks against the plates. Katie was amazed to realize she’d just inhaled three eggs and two pieces of toast, and was mopping up her plate with a third. Embarrassed, she put the piece of toast down, and glanced up at Adam to see if he’d witnessed her imitation of a pig at a trough. She was relieved that he hadn’t seemed to notice, busy running his own bread around his plate in an effort to capture every stray bit of egg and butter. He’d tied his hair back in a low ponytail, but strands of shining brown had escaped confinement, and swung close to his face as he bent over his plate.

So I’m to assume that explorations create a good appetite? *G*

Okay, I can see I’m going to grow to dislike this 500 word bit, cause it’s going to drive me insane! Getting to read such a short piece when I want to read so much more? Torture!

Well, let’s hope this week passes in a frenzy of activity so that I can enjoy the next 500 words.

Hugs

Esther

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[> [> [> The Mystery of the Coffee >>> -- Page, 21:57:17 07/03/09 Fri

A friend of mine was born and raised in England (in fact, she just became a U.S. citizen last year at the age of 49), and she's been invaluable as my Brit-picker. She's the one who let me know that, until recently, the British pretty much drank instant coffee, and in the 60s and 70s, it was pretty much all you could find in the markets and pubs. She reassured me that Starbucks has had its way with the U.K., and a decent brew can now be had. But, Katie had already had a cup of coffee before Adam's offering, and wasn't thrilled with it. In fact, it's in the last part of Chapter 1. And you did say you'd like to read it. *G* Picking up where I left off before:

Excerpt from Carey On (working title)
©2009 Juli Morgan
Posted for purposes of critique only, and does not constitute publication

At first acquaintance, however, London was not turning out to be the shining beacon on a hill Jimi had implied. Since arriving at Heathrow early that morning, Katie had endured being referred to as “another American hippie” by a sneering customs agent wearing a rumpled suit a size too small for his bulging belly, a cab driver who refused outright to take her to Ladbroke Grove, a cramped ride on the tube, London’s subway system, where her fellow passengers had muttered complaints about her unwieldy duffel bag and guitar case, and, of course, the destruction of her moccasin boots by the constant rain. Still, she refused to let it bum her out. Forget the fact that all of her clothes were probably mildewing in her bag. Forget the fact that she was almost falling asleep on her feet. And forget the fact that she had no place in which to sleep, come to that. She was in London, had reached Ladbroke Grove on her own, and, proud of herself, she was determined to make the best of it.

A particularly large drop of rainwater splatted onto the hood of her jacket, and she took a step backward, looking up to see where it originated. More super-sized drops were falling from the bottom of a brightly painted sign jutting out over the sidewalk, causing her to retreat further from the deluge. Among the swirls of vibrant colors and enigmatic symbols painted on the wooden sign, Katie made out the words, “The Journey.” Her internal juke-box promptly began playing the Amboy Dukes’ “Journey to the Center of the Mind” in the center of Katie’s mind, and she turned to study the front of the The Journey’s building. It was a narrow establishment, the faded orange of its bricks appearing to glow in contrast to the overcast skies. Two small windows flanked the wooden door, and were crowded with posters advertising underground rock bands. Pushing aside her mental replay of Ted Nugent’s guitar solo, she could hear the muffled thump of music coming from behind the door. Although she couldn’t make out the tune, Katie could recognize the rhythm of rock music, and, curious, she entered the building.

The familiar aromas of tobacco, burning hemp, patchouli oil and sandalwood incense welcomed her, and she let out a sigh of relief. The Journey appeared to be a lot like the small neighborhood bar she’d frequented in the Haight before things got so freaky. A fug of smoke almost obscured the low ceiling of the establishment, and she was finally able to identify the music pouring from the speakers mounted on the walls. Katie dimpled at the sound of Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady,” and took it as a good omen.

A row of jackets displaying various degrees of dampness hung on a series of hooks affixed to the wall, and Katie added her own vinyl slicker to the mix as she let her gaze wander the room. The interior was dim with all the windows covered by posters, and the main source of light seemed to come from candles and the burning embers of cigarettes and joints. The flare of someone’s lighter igniting the end of a cigarette illuminated the smoker’s face for a brief moment before shadows swallowed it again. After a moment, Katie’s eyes adjusted, and she headed toward the large bar that took up one side of the room. Her hands were chilled, and she was ready to wrap them around a mug of something hot.

Taking a seat next to the wall, she stowed her duffel bag and dripping guitar case between her barstool and the battered paneling where they weren’t in danger of being tripped over. A thin woman with waist-length gray braids smiled at her from behind the bar. “What’ll you have, luv?”

“Coffee,” Katie told her with anticipation. “Just black, please.”

The woman nodded, and turned to take a thick, white porcelain cup from a shelf, her paisley caftan swinging with the movement of her body. Katie dug into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and an elastic hair band. She tossed the cigarettes onto the bar, and gathered her dark brown hair behind her with both hands. Flyaway strands, charged with static electricity from the vinyl hood of her jacket, kept escaping her grip and sticking to her cheeks in an irritating manner. Finally marshalling the wayward mass, she used the elastic to secure it in a low ponytail that reached her waist. The last time Katie had a haircut was when she was five and had done it herself. The spanking she’d received from her mother had been severe enough to convince her to leave her hair alone, and she’d not let a pair of scissors near it since. Not that she minded; she had great hair, if she did say so herself. Just bouncy enough to avoid being stick-straight, it was a deep brown, the color of a hot cup of espresso, with licks of caramel where the sun had lightened it on top. It was hair that got noticed, and since most of the attention was positive, Katie considered it her best asset. Giving her ponytail a slight tug to tighten the elastic, she turned back to the bar.

The sharp aroma of strong coffee focused Katie’s attention on the steaming mug placed before her. “There you are,” the barkeeper smiled. “Need anything else?”

“No, I’m cool. Thank you.” Katie raised the mug to her lips and sighed with bliss as the hot liquid traced a path down her throat, warming her insides. It wasn’t the best coffee she’d ever tasted, but it was hot, and that’s all she cared about. After another reviving sip, she pulled a battered cigarette from the pack, realizing as she did so she’d left her plastic lighter in her jacket pocket. Before she could decide whether or not it was worth the trouble to get up and retrieve it, a click came from her left, accompanied by the faint smell of butane, and a hand holding a Zippo. Katie murmured her thanks and, leaning forward, lit her cigarette from the flame. Blowing out smoke, she turned with a smile to thank the man who had materialized next to her.

Warm brown eyes smiled back at her from a lean, almost chiseled face, and every female hormone Katie possessed stood to attention. She’d never expected to find Adonis in the flesh, and sent out silent but fervent thanks to Jimi Hendrix for directing her to London, and, as a consequence, this beautiful cat. The friendly smile that had frozen on her face thawed and deepened. “Well, hi, there.”

“And hello to you, love. I’m Adam.” The man’s voice was husky and low, and Katie liked the way it seemed to caress her ears.

“I’m Katie.” She held out her hand, and felt an immediate sense of mortification at offering such a conventional greeting to such a far out looking guy. Her unease evaporated, though, as Adam took her hand in his, giving her fingers a warm squeeze. Katie cleared her throat. “Thanks for the light.” With reluctance, she released his hand, her fingers closing over her palm to contain the feeling of his touch.

“No problem. You’re American, right?” Adam stowed his lighter in a pocket of his leather vest as he settled onto the barstool next to her.

Katie nodded. “Mm-hm. San Francisco.”

Adam looked interested. “Really? I’ve always wanted to visit there. It seems like such a happening place.” He smiled again, and held up a finger. “Hang on a sec.” Resting his elbows on the bar, Adam rose off his stool, leaning forward over the scarred wooden surface of the counter, and waved a hand in the direction of the barkeeper.

Katie took the opportunity to observe him closely. He had the shiniest hair she’d ever seen on anyone, male or female. Despite the low lighting in the pub, it shimmered as though it was lit from above by brown spotlights. It just brushed the shoulders of his blouse, one Katie swore was identical to the blouse she’d seen on Janis Joplin at Monterey. Instead of making Adam appear feminine, however, the garment only served to accentuate his maleness as the floral cotton hugged his arms and shoulders. Katie let her eyes sweep over his tight blue jeans as he leaned forward. Yes, he was all male, alright. She hid a smile in her coffee mug as Adam settled onto the stool again, having succeeded in capturing the attention of the woman behind the bar.

“Libby, could I get a cuppa?” His voice tickled Katie’s ears again, and she realized the huskiness was natural. It gave his voice a depth and resonance that made her want to hear him say more.

Libby gave him a fond smile. “Of course you can, duck. Give us a mo.”

As Libby moved off, presumably to get Adam’s cuppa, whatever the hell that was, he turned back to Katie. “Did you ever go to Haight-Ashbury?”

Katie nodded and swallowed her coffee. “Mm-hm. As a matter of fact, I lived in the Haight for two years.”

“Far out!” Adam angled his body toward Katie’s. “I’ve known one or two people who’ve been there. They tell the most amazing stories about how it’s the perfect community, with everyone living together in peace and love.” He leaned his head on his hand, and grinned. “Is it really the utopia everyone says it is?”

“Nope.” Katie took a drag off her cigarette, trying to think past how his smile made his whole face light up, and shook her head. “That’s kind of like saying Cinderella and the prince lived happily ever after, without adding that they fought over what records to listen to, or how much money they spent on pot. I guess it would have been perfect if there hadn’t been actual imperfect humans living there.”

Adam laughed, and nodded his thanks to Libby who set a cup of tea in front of him. Filing away in her mind the definition of “cuppa,” Katie watched as he added milk and sugar, and gave the concoction a brisk stir. “So, it’s not all peace, love and flowers, then?”

“It tried to be.” Katie tapped the end of her cigarette in the ashtray, and shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just that it got swallowed up in its own hype. Did you know they actually have bus tours through the Haight now?” She couldn’t help but laugh at his look of surprise. “Oh, yeah. Busses full of straight people all leaning out the windows, taking pictures of us with their little InstaMatics. Man, that started happening and I knew it was time to split. Jimi Hendrix told me I should check out the scene in London, so here I am.”

“You know Hendrix?” Adam sat up straight, excitement etched in the lines of his body.

“A little.” Katie decided to omit the fact that Jimi had spent three days at her house, a large percentage of those days in her bed. “I met him at Monterey, and he told me all about this groovy place called Ladbroke Grove.” She grinned. “I haven’t seen any tour busses yet, so it’s looking pretty good.”

“Believe me, love, you won’t see any tour busses here.” Adam laughed. “Actually, the Man tends to avoid this area, and pretend it doesn’t exist.” He swirled the tea in his cup, giving her an appraising look. “I really dig Hendrix. I hear he put on a hell of a show at Monterey. Did you play there, too?”

Katie choked on her coffee. “At Monterey?” she wheezed. “Me? No way.”

A blush stained Adam’s cheeks, visible even in The Journey’s dim light. “Oh, well, I noticed your guitar and just thought…”

Katie glanced down at her guitar case. “Oh, no; I’m not in a band or anything.” She looked up and shrugged. “I’ve had offers, but performing just isn’t my bag.” She caught a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, and gave him a closer look. “What?”

“I’m in a band,” he told her with a delighted grin.

“Then I salute both your talent, and your bravery.” She sketched a small bow in his direction. “I admire anyone who can get up in front of people and perform.” The final swallow of the bitter coffee made her grimace. “So, what do you play?”

“Nothing. I’m a singer. So far, we’re just doing the underground circuit, but maybe one day we’ll break out and make it big.” Adam reached into the front pocket of his blouse and pulled out a tightly rolled joint. Holding it up for her inspection, he asked, “Want to?”

“Thanks, but no.” Katie leaned her head on her hand. “I’m feeling really spacey right now. I guess it’s that jet-lag thing.” She indicated the joint in his hand. “A couple of tokes off that, and I’m liable to just climb up on the bar here and pass out.”

“Jet-lag, huh?” He stowed the joint back into his pocket. “When did you get here, love?”

“This morning.” Katie wondered if she should have more coffee, but decided against it. She was going to have to sleep eventually, and delaying it with more caffeine didn’t seem like the best idea. Besides, the coffee she’d been served tasted atrocious.

“You just got here today? From California?” Adam shook his head when she nodded in the affirmative. “No wonder you’re jet-lagged. Do you have a place to crash?”

“Not yet.” Katie shrugged. “My main goal was to get here; I didn’t think too much beyond that.” She glanced at him. “I really don’t even know where to start looking since I don’t want to shell out any dough on some hotel. Any suggestions?”

Another faint blush suffused his cheeks as he responded. “You can crash with me for a bit, if you’d like. My flat’s not too far from here, and it’s on the top floor so it’s quiet.” He smiled. “Plus, I’m relatively harmless.”

“That’d be cool.” Katie hid her delight at the invitation. “I won’t be in the way?” A wave of exhaustion swept through her, protesting her question. It was clear her body would take any offer of succor, even if it did inconvenience Adam.

“Nah. I’m going to be out most of tonight anyway, and I have to work tomorrow. You’ll be able to catch up on your Zs, and then I can show you around.” At Katie’s nod of assent, he slid from his stool and, reaching past her, picked up her duffel bag with a grunt. “What do you have in here, everything you own?”

Katie looked up from where she had been conferring with Libby about paying for her coffee, and grinned. ‘Nope. Just everything I need. Except a nice, soft bed.”

“And I have one of those, so you’re set.” He held out his hand with a charming smile that made her blood race. “Let’s go.”

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[> [> [> [> Lovely! -- Debi, 22:40:54 07/03/09 Fri

I love this little slice of life. Katie meeting Adam, fate letting her land on her feet, or at least her back.;-) I like how she's mentally filing the differences between American and British English. Great stuff.

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[> [> [> [> [> Thank you muchly! >>> -- Page, 16:49:46 07/04/09 Sat

>I love this little slice of life. Katie meeting Adam,
>fate letting her land on her feet, or at least her
>back.;-)

*snerk* Ah, you do know Katie well!

>I like how she's mentally filing the
>differences between American and British English.

You'll love the part where Stuart admits to studying Beatles fanzines, trying to learn some British slang before going to London! *G*

Hugs,
Page

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[> [> [> [> Just poured a fresh one myself >>> -- Esther, 12:29:35 07/09/09 Thu

And having taken a sip, I can vouch for the mystery of it. How can the DH make such a better pot of coffee than I??? *shrug*

As for this excerpt, I remember it well, almost well enough to notice the changes. *G* And after reading this a few times, I realize I have nothing to say except that you’ve done a great job on this scene. It has vivid descriptions, uses more that one of the senses, and it is a great introduction to Adam and to Katie herself. Well done!

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[> [> [> [> [> Hot dog! The boards are back up!!! >>>> -- Page, 21:23:55 07/11/09 Sat

>And having taken a sip, I can vouch for the mystery of
>it. How can the DH make such a better pot of coffee
>than I??? *shrug*

Ah, but does he leave the cupboard doors open? I used to think it was just my DH, but have come to realize it must be related to testosterone, as my son-in-law does it, too. *G*
>
>As for this excerpt, I remember it well, almost well
>enough to notice the changes. *G* And after reading
>this a few times, I realize I have nothing to say
>except that you’ve done a great job on this scene. It
>has vivid descriptions, uses more that one of the
>senses, and it is a great introduction to Adam and to
>Katie herself. Well done!

Thank you! As you know, *cough cough* I've fussed with the first chapter a number of times, and I think this one is my hands-down favorite. So I'm not touchin' it ever again. I swear on my new copy of Outlander!

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[> [> Great scene Page>>> -- susiej, 12:33:20 07/04/09 Sat

You really use all the senses- I really see feel and smell the scene.

One thing- I've probably missed some posts, but i was a little confused about Katie's "uncomfortable state"- is that just from too much rough mmmph? and is that implied?

and this is picky, but I would move the placing of "temporarily" to "temporarily ignored" seems stronger/clearer and centers the last clause on the compelling reason why- the view.

And somehow, the heading to the coffee "with alacrity" seemed off to me. Don't know why but it jarred- as if out of place with the rest of the great scene. Maybe just "made a bee line for the coffee" it's more slangy, the way they talk. But that's just MHO, of course.

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[> [> [> Thank you, susiej! >>>> -- Page, 16:55:35 07/04/09 Sat

>You really use all the senses- I really see feel and
>smell the scene.
>
Here's an admission for you -- I actually went out and purchased sandalwood incense. *G* It had been so long since I'd smelled any, and I wanted to "be" in the scene as much as I could. I'm glad this is coming through!

>One thing- I've probably missed some posts, but i was
>a little confused about Katie's "uncomfortable state"-
>is that just from too much rough mmmph? and is that
>implied?

No, no mmphing yet. I just didn't post the beginning of that chapter. Katie's uncomfortable state is due to having slept for almost 37 hours, jet-lag having laid her flat before Adam could. *G*

>
>and this is picky, but I would move the placing of
>"temporarily" to "temporarily ignored" seems
>stronger/clearer and centers the last clause on the
>compelling reason why- the view.

I concur! Good catch on that, thank you!
>
>And somehow, the heading to the coffee "with alacrity"
>seemed off to me. Don't know why but it jarred- as if
>out of place with the rest of the great scene. Maybe
>just "made a bee line for the coffee" it's more
>slangy, the way they talk. But that's just MHO, of
>course.

And I value your opinion, so keep 'em coming! After reading that part again, I tend to agree with you. Somehow "alacrity" is a touch too...formal?...for this. "Made a bee line" is much more in keeping with the characters, and with the scene. Thank you again!

Hugs,
Page

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