Usually on Wind Down I have some music that inspired me to write a book. Well, I can link to the post what I wrote when I did Latte the first time, but instead I wanted to blog about doing rewrites.
*collective sighs from all 3 muses and Shar*
Yes, rewrites, revisions, do-overs. Whatever you want to call them, they aren’t all that fun. I mean, I do love visiting old characters, kind of like being reunited with old friends you haven’t seen in years, but then comes the work.
Oh the AGONY!
When you read through old stories and hate that you didn’t give your characters a chance to really shine. When, even you, the grammar hack can catch certain errors that the previous editor didn’t catch. And then, you notice how much narration you did, meaning not showing, TELLING!
Yeah, betas would’ve been beneficial when Latte was out that first time. Well, now I have several and though I sent TTMTD (Donuts) off without one, I look forward to getting it back to tear it up again.
With Latte, I changed Brendan Walsh’s character. I gave him a little more balls, if you will, and I changed the story, even deleting scenes, just so I could make the book more interesting. And, the so called conflict will be different this time around, but the HEA will be there in the end.
I think about why I’m redoing Latte as well as Donuts and other stories that have been sitting on the hard drive. Why? Because I loved the characters, the story, and the premise of the book. If I didn’t care to re-release the book, I’d leave it alone. Latte and Brendan were a dynamic couple and I’m glad I’m giving them another story.
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Small excerpt (UNEDITED)
After staying at Cathy’s for about another half hour, Brendan reluctantly got on the elevator up to fifteen to go to work. He fully enjoyed being in the coffee shop, watching Latte work and admiring his body from afar. If only they could’ve talked more, but obviously the guy was really busy.
Sighing, Brendan stepped off the lift and walked straight through the double wooden doors to the long desk where his main secretary answered calls and greeted visitors. “Morning, Mr. Walsh. Your father −”
“Yes, I know, Delia. Anything else I missed?”
Delia shrugged and looked away in embarrassment. “Um, no. Just him, quite upset that you missed the conference call.”
Brendan strolled to the right, walking past the conference room where he heard the call still going on. He nodded and continued on to his office to enjoy the rest of his macchiato in silence. Brendan was quite grateful to have missed the meeting this morning because he already knew what it entailed; possibly another takeover which meant a lot more work for him.
When he arrived at his office, he turned the golden handle to the right and opened it wide. He stepped in and closed the door behind him, eyeing the space he liked to call his sanctuary. Brendan leaned against it and took a sip from the large cup in his hand. He dreaded the upcoming conversation with Alexander, so he decided to savor his latte a little longer than usual.
“You make a tasty macchiato. I wonder what else you’re good at doing?”
Brendan walked slowly to his desk and set the drink down. Immediately, he plopped in his executive chair and like a kid on the playground, he used his feet to spin the contraption around, making himself laugh.
No man he’d brought home left an impression on him like the barista downstairs. They hadn’t had the chance to discuss anything, but something about Latte drew Brendan in.
Despite this, Brendan hoped to get to know the man a lot sooner than later.
Now, it was up to Latte to take the hint and come up to Brendan’s floor as he had asked.
“Brendan?” Alexander’s terse tone broke the silence. He knocked once and walked in without asking. His steely blue eyes caught Brendan’s gaze.
“Why weren’t you at the meeting? We had some very important business to discuss regarding the Buttersfield Merger.”
“I already have all those details, dad. I’ve been studying them since before we made the proposition to buy them out.”
“I’m sure, but you, as the President of this company, should be present to offer your expertise.”
“Why? So you can shoot down everything I say?” Brendan wouldn’t allow his dad to ruin his high right now.
“I don’t shoot down everything, only ideas I see aren’t a good fit for the company. The Butterfield’s wondered where you were and I had to lie and say you were on another urgent call. Why did you fail to show up on time?”
“I needed coffee. I stopped down at Cathy’s and we ran a little over in our conversation, that’s all. Did you know Bill passed away?”
“No.” Alexander shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that, but, regardless, you should’ve been here as I asked. Make sure you’re not late for our dinner tonight.”
“Dad, I told you I’m not going. I have too much work to.”
Working on getting Latte into my bed.
Brendan smiled to himself. “I need to do those projections so I can have them in time for the next monthly directors meeting.”
“Why can’t your financial manager do it?”
“Because he’s on leave with his partner. They’re having a baby.”
“A baby? Fags aren’t supposed to have children! What on earth is this country coming to? Gays should not be allowed to have kids, period,” he snapped. “Just another reason why I need to get you married to a woman so you can bring me an heir.”
Brendan shook his head and clawed the arms of his chair. “For god sakes, I wonder how on earth mother put up with all your bigoted ideas after all these years. Gay men …” Brendan exhaled, stopping himself for getting into an argument with his father. “Ugh, nevermind. Like I said, don’t bother having Gilbert come by and pick me up. I’ll be too busy.”
“Brendan. This is not a choice, it is an order. I need to get you married before I head back to Los Angeles. You are almost thirty. A handsome man like you shouldn’t be alone. You can work on those figures right now and leave the night for our dinner. We must make a good impression on the Harrisford’s if we intend to make them part of the Walsh umbrella. What better way to do that then by getting our lovely children married in the process?”
Brendan dropped his head in defeat, knowing this was a fight he wouldn’t win. If he let this go on, he’d have a migraine that would leave him pretty much worthless the rest of the day. “Whatever. Just leave me be so I can get to work.”
“That’s my boy,” Alexander clapped and turned on his heel. “And wear your best tonight please. We’ll be going to that fancy French place in River North. Bring her some flowers.” His father closed the door behind him.
Thoroughly annoyed, Brendan finished his drink and tossed the cup in the nearby trashcan. He slid downward, sinking in his chair wishing he could make himself smaller to disappear into the seat, never to be heard from again.