I've been wanting to do it, and now I've begun. Begun what? Exercising? No, but it's on my list. ;-) I have learned so much from the wonderful editors at Desert Breeze Publishing, and yearned to apply it on my older, self-published books. Last night, I started a complete re-write of Brand New World.
I wanted to start with something easy, something I can get through and be able to pat myself on the back. "You did good, Maria." The Embarkment novellas seemed appropriate, because they're short, and in dire need of a re-write. I intend to make a second edition of all of them, probably with fresh covers as well, to symbolize the inner change. Right now, my optimistic thought is, "This shouldn't take all that long." We'll see how it turns out in reality...
The new version of Brand New World will start along the lines of:
The world was a bank of fog that came and went like waves on the sea, interrupted occasionally by the blackness of night, or maybe death. My confused mind couldn’t determine which. At times the fog was thinner, and revealed a world so surreal it must be feverish dreams or visions in a coma. Soon, these brief images appeared real, and life as it had been resembled a dream.
When consciousness returned it came painfully and I gasped for air, overwhelmed by a flood of impressions. There were memories that must surely be dreams, dreams appearing much too real, and sounds and smells I didn't recognize.
A light came from above, much too bright for my eyes, and I squinted, trying to make out anything besides abstract shapes. My body was too heavy, and moving my head completely impossible.
"Look who's awake. Welcome back."
The female voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it, and I couldn't see her.
As my eyes adjusted, I saw bright cones hanging from the ceiling. The walls were slightly curved, and the shapes of shadows from objects outside my view much too tall and distorted. Was I in a hospital? Maybe I'd been in an accident. The thought was logical, and much more appealing than the alternatives.
Another voice spoke. “Doctor Ima to the Captain, our time traveller is conscious.”
That comment didn't make any sense at all. I hadn't been on a boat, so why would there be a Captain? Time-traveller? Maybe I was still unconscious after all, trapped in a weird dream.
I groaned, “I guess I’m not dead after all.”
What a dumb comment. Why would I say such a thing? I had no reason to think I was dead, did I?
The voice sparkled with held back laughter. “No, you most certainly aren’t dead anymore.”
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