It's amazing how much difference time and experience can make in the way that you write a story. Really, it is!

I've been thinking about this a lot this last year, mostly while working with the rewrite of Oh, Cheers, but also now that I'm cleaning up/tightening up Princess For Hire too, it really strikes me just how different my work comes out with more effort put into it.

Early on in the rewrite of Oh, Cheers, I tied to keep things pretty close to the original, but I still found myself changing things quite a bit. I've learned a lot in the last seven years or so.

Original:

At the end of the tryouts I figured there were maybe seven girls, Patty included, good enough to make it on the squad. In the end I was sitting alone on the bleachers, waiting for Patty to finish up in the locker room.

“Hey!” I turned from watching the locker room to find a pair of ice blue eyes staring at me from under a mane of thick black hair. Lisa! “Did you want to try out?”

I just looked at her, dumbstruck.

“Come on, there’s still time left!” She then leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Besides, you can’t be as bad as some of the girls who already tried out, yikes!”

“No thanks, I’m not-“ I was cut off in mid sentence as she drug me from my seat to the middle of the tryout area and returned to her seat of power. What’s going on- no, wait. She can’t. Does she think I’m a girl?

-==-

Rewritten:

When everything was said and done, I figured there were maybe seven girls, Patty included, who had captured the judges' eyes and were good enough to make it on the squad. Of course Patty had been one of the last called, leaving me sitting there in the bleachers waiting for her to the very end.

She was just coming out of the locker room, grinning from ear to ear at how well she knew her tryout had gone, when we both froze at the sound of another whistle.

“Hey!”

I turned from watching Patty's walk from the locker room to find a pair of ice blue eyes staring at me curiously from under a mane of thick black hair. Lisa Gilbert was standing at the foot of the bleachers, and I had nowhere to run.

Oh, crap.

“Did you want to try out?” She asked me with a tilt of her head and a small smile.

I stared back, dumbstruck.

“Come on, there's still time left!” She said as she bounded up the bleachers and grabbed my hand, the one still holding my phone. Then she leaned down close to my ear and whispered, “Besides, you can't be as bad as some of the girls who've already tried. Yikes!”

I started to sputter, “No thanks, I'm not-” But I was cut off mid-sentence as she drug me limply from my seat down to the court, dropping my hand and returning to her seat of power with a grin that lit up the room.

Oh, no. She can't... she doesn't think I'm a girl, does she?

-==-

Quite a difference, isn't there? The further I got into the story, the more and more radical the changes became, until now I'm at the end of part 2 and there's next to nothing left of the original work at all. I'm not even referencing the original any more, but a set of notes I took off it for what stays and what's new, if that tells you anything.

The same thing is happening with PFH, too, though much more limited in scope. For example....

Original:

The bus stopped, and my bags were unloaded by the driver along with those of three other boys, all of us wearing the same charcoal gray pants and blazer with the school's crest stitched into the lapel in purple and silver. I did my best to ignore the odd looks as the others grabbed their leather cases or expensive luggage and I hauled up my ratty old duffel bag filled with the few clothes and books I owned. I was glad they had laundry facilities on campus, as well, because the uniform I had on was the only one I owned, and I knew that until I found some work I wouldn't be able to afford more.

-==-

Rewrite:

My bags were unloaded along with my three companions, and as we left the bus I was glad for the school uniform. The charcoal gray suit wasn't the most comfortable thing I had ever worn, though I was sure I would grow used to it, and the school's crest was somewhat garish in its purple and silver emblazoned on the breast, but it was all a sight better than the worn-out jeans and tees I was used to. I did my best to ignore the odd looks from the others when they grabbed their expensive leather bags and luggage while I was stuck hauling one ratty old duffel bag filled with the few personal belongings I had worth keeping. I was desperately glad for the laundry services on campus, as well, because the uniform I was wearing was the only one I could afford, and until I found a job money would be tight.

-==-

PFH is going to be a lot less reworked than Oh, Cheers (now Phoenix Soars -- even the title's changed!) but it's still going to be pretty different in the end.

What do y'all think? Do you like the originals better, or my rewritten versions? Why? Personally, I like the reworks better for readability and descriptiveness, but at the same time it feels like there's something that gets lost in the process. Maybe the immediacy? Or the raw energy? I dunno. Regardless, I'd like to hear what others think, and if you've had your own experiences with this kind of thing, share them too.

Melanie E.