Rewrites

Epiphany

>I’m minding my own business, soaking my sore muscles in a hot bath and–boom–Luke and Keira pop into my head.

Keira: “I’m tired of getting blown off rooftops.”

Luke, snaring me with accusing blue eyes: “And if I have to see her,” he tilts his head toward his heroine, “kiss another guy again, you’d better give me a fucking gun so I can blow his head off.”

I’m not the one having the problem with these rewrites. My characters are the ones digging in their heels.

Sorry, guys…I can’t get those chapters back. Thank your local thugs with nothing better to do, probably living off food stamps provided by my taxes. (Not yours, of course, because you’re both fictitious. Neither of you make real money…)

Fictitious?” Luke swoops a look at Keira. “Did she just call us fictitious?”

Oh. My. God. Now do you see why the rewrites are causing me hell?

>Epiphany

>I’m minding my own business, soaking my sore muscles in a hot bath and–boom–Luke and Keira pop into my head.

Keira: “I’m tired of getting blown off rooftops.”

Luke, snaring me with accusing blue eyes: “And if I have to see her,” he tilts his head toward his heroine, “kiss another guy again, you’d better give me a fucking gun so I can blow his head off.”

I’m not the one having the problem with these rewrites. My characters are the ones digging in their heels.

Sorry, guys…I can’t get those chapters back. Thank your local thugs with nothing better to do, probably living off food stamps provided by my taxes. (Not yours, of course, because you’re both fictitious. Neither of you make real money…)

Fictitious?” Luke swoops a look at Keira. “Did she just call us fictitious?”

Oh. My. God. Now do you see why the rewrites are causing me hell?