I had the privilege of reading Patricia Vermeire’s Affairs Of The Heart from beginning to end while she was writing it.  It’s a great book.  AFFAIRS OF THE HEART was our first major critiquing adventure as partners and we learned a great deal. Number One: During phone conversations make Angi stay on target J or she’ll talk about everything her daughter did. LOL

Seriously though, one of our discussions was one of those “light bulb” moments for Patricia (her words). This example of critiquing is where deep POV became alive.

Thank you, Patricia, for allowing me to share this with others.

        Angi

     The next morning, Kyle pondered his dilemma as he lounged against his Range Rover outside Miss Melanie's Bed and Breakfast.  Fog curled through the hedges bordering the boxy Victorian mansion as the hesitant dawn glowed pink against the dormers of the upper story.  The morning chill hung in the air, leaves and flowers damp and dripping at the edge of the shadowed lawn.  The sun would bring warmth and light, but not answers.

     He needed Michelle's study, or rather the distinction of participating in her ground-breaking research.  Beyond that, he needed Michelle.  Period.  And somehow he had to work with her without fighting all the time.  Find a way to see her and talk to her, knowing they couldn't change what had happened in the past.  Or pick up where they'd left off.

     He'd come too close to blowing it last night.  Between her dangerous blue eyes and full, tempting lips, Michelle had argued her way straight into his arms.  She felt too good there, as if she belonged. She had, once, and walked away.  His one great failure, and one he didn't plan to repeat.

     This morning he'd try a new approach, one that might alleviate the tension and awkwardness of working together again.  First he'd get her out of the hospital for a while, away from the battlefield, and fashion a truce of sorts.

And from now on he'd keep his distance.  Somehow, some way, he'd forget how perfectly she fit against him, her enticing fragrance, the heat in her gaze.  He'd keep his hands to himself until either Michelle went back to her ivory tower in Chicago or he went quietly insane.

     From the wide front porch of house, the screen door banged shut.  Kyle squinted against the slanting rays of the rising sun and couldn't help but appreciate Michelle's slim figure.  Even this early in the morning, toting an intimidating briefcase, she looked positively scrumptious.  Good enough to eat.

     "What are you doing here?" she asked, fisting her free hand on her hip.

ORIGINAL WITH CRITIQUE:

Please note: some of this original critique was done over the phone. I stated what I liked about the chapter, but this particular scene bothered me. Although it was full of great description, when viewed with the entire chapter, it didn’t seem to progress the story much or have any great emotional impact. We discussed deep POV and making every scene count.

     The next morning, Kyle pondered his dilemma as he lounged against his Range Rover outside Miss Melanie's Bed and Breakfast. [Telling] Fog curled through the hedges bordering the boxy Victorian mansion as the hesitant dawn glowed pink against the dormers of the upper story.  The morning chill hung in the air, leaves and flowers damp and dripping at the edge of the shadowed lawn.  The sun would bring warmth and light, but not answers.

[This paragraph is telling us where Kyle is and how everything looks, but why is it relevant to Kyle? Why is he noticing his surroundings? Does the average guy notice a “pink” dawn or react to the fact that he’s up at dawn? Make him SHOW the action and add emotion.]

     He needed Michelle's study, or rather the distinction of participating in her ground-breaking [computer says groundbreaking -- no hyphen] research.  Beyond that, he needed Michelle.  Period.  And somehow he had to work with her without fighting all the time.  Find a way to see her and talk to her, knowing they couldn't change what had happened in the past.  Or pick up where they'd left off.  [something through here is choppy -- maybe it’s the comma after her...or maybe since we’re in his POV, I just need him to state it instead of getting confused...]

     He'd come too close to blowing it last night.  Between her dangerous blue eyes and full, tempting lips, Michelle had argued her way straight into his arms.  She felt too good there, as if she belonged. [I think I know what you’re getting at, but “too good” makes me think that she’s TOO GOOD to be in his arms.]  She had, once, and walked away.  His one great failure, and one he didn't plan to repeat. [So what was his actual plan? Don’t keep secrets while in his POV. Why had he brought her back?]

     This morning he'd try a new approach, [Telling, add emotion, show us -- let him think of the new approach] one that might alleviate the tension and awkwardness of working together again.  First he'd get her out of the hospital for a while, away from the battlefield, and fashion a truce of sorts.

     And from now on he'd keep his distance.  Somehow, some way, he'd forget how perfectly she fit against him, her enticing fragrance, the heat in her gaze.  He'd keep his hands to himself until either Michelle went back to her ivory tower in Chicago or he went quietly insane. [Isn’t there a third possibility here? That she chooses to move into his arms?]

From the wide front porch of house  [not needed, unless it’s the porch of something OTHER than the house -- slows down the action], the screen door banged shut.  Kyle squinted against the slanting rays of the rising sun and couldn't help but [Telling. Personal pet peeve--this phrase always bothers me. Can you bring in his actual emotion/feeling about her figure? How does looking at her make him react? You can do better than “appreciate” J] appreciate Michelle's slim figure.  Even this early in the morning, [why does this make a difference?] toting an intimidating briefcase, she looked positively scrumptious [girly word for his description makes me think of food instead of the surroundings that you’ve been concentrating on].  Good enough to eat.

     "What are you doing here?" she asked, fisting her free hand on her hip.

Nice scene, but I have to ask how it progresses the story? Why would Kyle notice everything around him in such detail if he were worried about Michelle and how to keep her?  Add emotion, lots of emotion. This scene has potential. Dig deep, help the reader to understand why everything around Kyle is important or why it’s not.

REWRITE:

     He'd been on duty in one way or another for fifteen days straight. The last three had left him with less than four hours sleep in twenty-four, due more to personal, guilt-ridden reasons than professional. But finally, today, he was free.

As another Technicolor dawn flirted with the mountaintops to the east, Kyle found himself not laying comatose in his tranquil, secluded beach house, but propped against his Range Rover in front of Miss Melanie's Bed and Breakfast, contemplating the mysteries of the universe, at least where women were concerned.

     So he'd screwed up. Royally, as the saying went. He'd taken a perfect opportunity to put some romance into action and turned heaven into hell in the space of about two minutes.

Way to go, Richards.

     Invoking cause and effect, he'd consigned himself to whatever groveling and abject humility it took to get Michelle to talk to him in something other than a haughty snarl. To say their relationship had cooled was an enormous, and cruel, understatement.

     Freezing further layers to the iceberg of their so-called truce was the lack of any decent candidates for her research study. Kyle was sinking fast. Charm had failed him. He was down to bribery. Or at least a negotiated settlement.

Eyeing the fog curling through the hedges bordering the boxy Victorian mansion, he could only hope his plan would thaw enough of Michelle's heart that she could forgive him. In the last few days, she'd been a real ice princess, with all the accompanying frost and silence. The morning chill hanging in the air seemed balmy by comparison, even with the heavy dew dripping from the shrubs and roses at the edge of the shadowed lawn.

     Roses. Red roses. As in, flowers-for-a-blue-lady roses.

     Michelle liked roses, if he remembered right. He might spend less time on his knees at her feet if he offered her a red rose glistening with dew. Sounded like a plan.

     Pushing off the cold, slick panel of his truck, Kyle padded across the damp lawn to a huge rosebush at the corner of the house. After a furtive glance around for witnesses, he plucked the fattest, darkest red blossom from the bush.

As he shook the heaviest dew off the petals, the screen door banged shut on the wide front porch. He tucked the flower behind his back just as Michelle came into view.

     "What are you doing here?" she asked, fisting one hand on her hip.

ADDITIONAL NOTE:  The scene ends by tying the scenery back into Kyle’s thoughts...

     A shaft of sunlight slipped through the clouds and wreathed her hair in a brilliant halo. His first day off in two weeks, and he was spending it with his very own angel.

Copyright 2004 Angi Platt & Patricia Vermeire -- all rights reserved, please obtain written permission before use.