Revisiting a story you've written is difficult - I know how hard it is. This story was written 20 years ago this year, so imagine how many times I've gone over it, read it, re-read it, read it out loud, in my head, pored over word-choice, sentence structure, grammar, speech and plotline.
But trust me... if you find the story boring, how will your readers find it? Make it exciting - that's your job.
These are the covers of my three Wolf Series novels
If you're following the story or how I go through the process of editing, here are the first few posts.
The photos are all my own and some may be a little off-topic and random, so bear that in mind (and read the descriptions).
Cont...
The watcher smiled. Almost close enough to smell her fear, he listened to her mumbling to herself. He took in a slow, deep breath to curb his excitement. He held the breath in his lungs in an effort to regulate his breathing and heartbeat. His anticipation swelled and he had to concentrate.
I believe this is St Paul's Cathedral in London... but I could be wrong, I've not asked or looked it up... sorry
He assessed the woman he’d chosen. Bundled up in a large overcoat against the late-night chill, a less-observant onlooker may not realise it disguised a slim, rather than bulky frame. She wore flat boots and was of average height. Her hair, the true colour a mystery because of the sodium lights, was braided tight in one plait and tucked into her coat to hide the length. Hands encased in black leather gloves, carrying a workbag, she had an air of confidence about her.
He had an impression that perhaps the skill had been learned rather than something that came natural to her. She approached the alley with a wary concern. He thought to himself, “and well she might be wary,” and his smile widened.
He didn’t know why she caught his attention; he never delved too deep into the whys and wherefores. Although, he first noticed her because she had gone a different way to everyone else, she stood out from the crowd. Curiosity made him follow her he supposed – that and the fact that she was alone.
Bottas at Goodwood Festival of Speed
He thought he had her at the locked gate on the stairway. Both disappointed and yet delighted when she clambered over it, he hung back to watch and prolong the thrill of the hunt. He liked a woman with a bit of spirit. He also liked to see panic develop when the realisation of vulnerability crept up and overtook his victim, it added to his excitement.
She gathered her courage and moved on again, through the deserted car park attached to the pub. One lone car, in the far corner, didn’t pose a threat as a likely hiding place. She wondered why it was there; staff and punters had long-gone. Abandoned by its conscientious driver who had had a drink and left it until the morning maybe? The cynic in her thought otherwise. In a perfect world, perhaps he had, but more likely, he was too drunk to remember where he had left it.
The open space of the car park gave her a false sense of security. She knew, false or not, it would desert her as she approached the alley. There was nowhere to hide in the immediate vicinity and therefore, he couldn’t be close.
Barn-find on show at Bicester Porsche Christmas meet
Self-assured strides reduced the distance to the walled passageway and she started to slow down, delaying the inevitable. Again she hesitated. At the mouth of the alley, she checked her surroundings, then leaned forward, just a little, as if trying to see around the bend in the middle. Her bag, grasped in one hand, swung against her leg when she leaned forward. She looked down as if she had only just noticed it was there.
She stood upright, shrugged her shoulders and decided she should make a move before she could scare the living daylights out of herself. She entered the mouth of the narrow and enclosed walkway.
Here's what I started with...
Cont...
The watcher smiled as he heard her mumbling to herself. He was almost close enough to smell her fear. His anticipation swelled and he had to concentrate to regulate his breathing.
He assessed the woman he had chosen. She was bundled up in a large overcoat against the late night chill, but he could tell that she was slim. She had flat boots on and she was of average height. Her hair was red - the colour of autumn leaves – and was braided tight in one plait, though the length of it was hidden, tucked into her coat. Her hands were encased in black leather gloves and she was carrying a workbag. She had an air of confidence about her, but he thought that perhaps the skill had been learned rather than something that was natural to her, if only because he could tell that she was wary of the alley she approached. He thought to himself “and well she might be wary” and allowed himself a broader smile.
He didn’t know why he had chosen this one; he never delved too deep into the whys and wherefores. Although he had noticed her because she had not followed everyone else, she had gone a different way. Curiosity made him follow her he supposed – that and the fact that she was alone.
He had first thought that he had her when she encountered the locked gate on the stairway, but he had been both disappointed and yet delighted when she had clambered over it. He liked a woman with a bit of spirit. He also liked to watch their panic grow when they realise that they were being followed, it added to his excitement.
She moved on again, through the deserted car park. She noticed a lone car - perhaps left by its conscientious driver who had had a drink and left it until the morning. The cynic in her thought otherwise, in a perfect world maybe he had, but more likely, he was too drunk to remember where he had left it.
The open space of the car park gave her a sense of security that she knew would desert her as she approached the alley. There was nowhere to hide in the area surrounding the pub and so she knew he was not so close behind her.
As the distance to the walled passageway was eaten up by her self-assured strides, she started to slow down as though she was trying to delay getting there. Again she hesitated. At the mouth of the alley, she leaned forward just a little as if trying to see around the bend in the middle. Her bag was grasped in one hand and as she leaned forward, it swung against her leg. She looked down as if she had only just noticed it was there. Then as though deciding that she should make a move before she could scare the living daylights out of herself, she entered the mouth of the narrow and enclosed walkway.