Time for Once Prologue
What does a writer do when she’s stuck in professional edits for the first book she plans to self-publish this year? She writes a blog! And stops typing in third person. If you read my previous post, you know the inspiration behind Time for Once originated in a writing exercise which is now the prologue.
For fun, I’m sharing the first three paragraphs and all the changes thus far. Enjoy!
Have you ever wondered …
If I had met this person as who I am now instead of who I was then, would it have changed anything?
For fans of Rebecca Serle and Josie Silver.
Two people. Ten years. One winding love story.
He approached the bike rack at a speed too fast but he was running late and time had yet to slow down when that happened. …… Author Note: The first paragraph is now the second and the second is now the first.
She pressed her body against the trunk of an old oak tree in and hopeds she would go unnoticed the wild beating of her heart would slow down. He was supposed to be in the lecture hall preparing the delivery of his PhD thesis defense. to colleagues and acquaintances alike. Yet, there his tall frame stood, next to the bike rack, with the speed of a gazelle maneuvering a lock around the bike’s frame. His nerves were clear even from this far away—though it could be a projection of herself in his shoes. Her trepidation grew tenfold as she watched him move across the street. She looked away.The twinkling morning dew on the grass below chilled her bare toes.
He approached the bike rack at a speed too fast but he was running late and time had yet to slow down when that happened was never on his side when that happened. He froze at the base of the stone steps leading to the halted as he began his ascent into the lecture hall and looked around. Had he mistaken the time of his thesis presentation? No one was around. The sidewalks were clear empty of their normal manic footsteps. The adjacent park stood still, suspended in a mist of fog, looking more like a moment caught in a dream. It was then he noticed the woman standing underneath an oak tree, shifting ever so slightly, her long skirt giving the illusion of weightlessness. She appeared anxious even from this far away. He was about to run up the stone steps when his name echoed off the brick walls.
She gathered the hem of her sundress and prepared to approach. He raised his hand to shield his eyes, as if sunlight blocked his view, even though the sun was behind him and not her. She couldn’t be certain as to why but she didn’t advance. His voice shot across like an arrow to its target, pinning it in place.
“I’m late.”