Madison's Avenue - Revised Excerpt

I attended a workshop today: Master Class - Page Turning Fiction taught by Kelley Armstrong.

We were given the opportunity to read the first two pages of our WIP. During the lunch break, I re-read my work and realized that perhaps the first chapter would read well with just a handful of paragraphs and a hook ending. So I read the "edited" version to the group and it was well-received.

Kelley asked, "What happens after this?"

I gave a quick synopsis and then she asked a question that changed everything.

"Why can't the story start when Madison arrives at the house in Maven?"

I thought about it for about three seconds and realized she's right. Madison's Avenue should start at what is currently Chapter 3.

I was in a slump with the book, but now I have focus and I'm excited. Thank you, Kelley!

This is what I read in the class. It's not how the book will start, but a revised version of this excerpt will appear somewhere in Chapter One. Or, perhaps, in Chapter Two. The possibilities are endless. Who knows where the characters will take me now!

* * *

Madison's Avenue - A Revised Excerpt

Madison Fields wasn’t sure how she felt about moving into the cottage in the small town of Maven. All her dreams—no, they were nightmares—were about Gerry shouting and hitting. Most mornings she woke gagging on the memory of whiskey and stale cigarettes.

She remembered her room had one dresser. The paint was chipped and most of the drawer pulls were missing. Her bed was a worn mattress on the floor with a thin, faded blanket that did little to keep her warm. She remembered the dank basement with its bare concrete floor and moldy walls. She remembered hiding in her mother’s closet among the worn dresses. She had a vague memory of the woman who lived across the street, the one who gave her homemade oatmeal cookies.

But she had no memory of the last day in that house, the day she was whisked away by Child Services and brought here to live with her grandparents.

Just as well, Madison thought, her parents were murdered that day.

Madison's Avenue - Excerpt

Today's muse: A.B. Funkhauser, author of Heuer Lost and Found, tagged me on Facebook in the 777 game: post seven lines from page 7 or 77 from your current WIP. Here are seven lines from MADISON'S AVENUE (chapter 5, page 77).

* * *

Madison's Avenue - Excerpt

The smell slammed into her, and she cupped her hand to her mouth to keep from retching. Not the usual smell of cigarettes, this was different—this was the metallic tang of blood.

It’s a dream, just a dream. The knowledge of that pierced through the haze and she remembered that Dr. Eagen had told her she could walk away from her dreams, make the choice to change the ending.

She knew where she was and what was about to happen. Everything inside her told her to run. Then she heard her name.

Madison's Avenue - Deleted Excerpt

Today's muse:

As many of you know, I am writing my first novel (working title: Madison's Avenue).

A few months ago, I finished the first draft and I am now editing. I deleted Chapter One and most of Chapter Two.

Since it is no longer in the book, not even incorporated into back story, I thought I would tease my faithful followers with an excerpt.

* * *

Madison's Avenue (deleted excerpt)

“She’s asking for you, Miss Fields.”

Madison didn’t look up, but continued to stare down at her coffee. At least that’s what the vending machine said it was. It tasted more like dishwater. Looked like it, too.

It was a far cry from her usual vanilla latte.

A thin scum of artificial creamer floated on the gray liquid, creating an impenetrable barrier, as if it were protecting the coffee from consumption. No need to worry about that, she thought with a snort.

“Miss Fields?”

Madison turned her head. A young woman in pink scrubs, her hair tied back in a swinging golden tail, smiled in encouragement.

“You should go see her.” The nurse gestured to the room behind her. The young woman walked away, her rubber-soled shoes making a soft shooshing sound on the terrazzo floor.

Madison scrubbed her hands over her face, pushed manicured fingers through her wild mane and let the dark curls fall back around her shoulders. She sucked in a deep breath, let it out in a rush, and practiced a smile.

It felt fake. Nana would see right through it. She always did. It wasn’t easy to pull one over on the old broad.

Madison smiled then; something she hadn’t done for many days now. Old broad, she thought. Nana would appreciate that, would even laugh. God it would be great to hear her laugh again.

Madison walked over to her grandmother’s room, hesitated outside the door. She brushed her hands over her tailored suit, smoothed away non-existent wrinkles.

It was amazing how much things had changed in just a few weeks.

“Game face,” she muttered and pushed through the door, forced her lips to curve in what she hoped was a convincing smile.

The frail woman that lay in the bed was not the one she remembered; definitely not the one that had raised her. Regina Fields was a strong, formidable woman who lived life with a passion that left many half her age weary just watching; miles away from the thin facsimile who was losing a vicious battle against cancer.

“There’s nothing more we can do,” the doctor had said when Madison sat with him in his office. “It’s aggressive and has spread beyond what we can control. All we can do is make her comfortable.”

She had stared over the doctor’s head, at the framed diplomas that covered the walls. All those degrees, and there was nothing he could do.

“How long?” She remembered her voice had sounded tinny.

“A few months.”

A few months. Well, Madison thought, as she stepped into her grandmother’s room, he was right about that.