It all started out so well. I’ve always wanted to write a romance, so when P Aggle Bananapits slurped up to me and asked for a love story for Valentine’s Day, I was actually quite happy, in spite of the monster wee lapping around my feet. So I wrote the beginnings of a lovely, lovely, romantic story.
And then the monsters read it and said ‘We LOVE it, but we think it just needs a FEW changes’. I didn’t know they’d all been to editors’ school. Anyway, at least they let me show you my first draft. The second one is theirs. They’ve put all their edits in bold. They think it’s much more romantic. But which do YOU prefer..?
THE PETALS OF PASSION
Samantha ran to the window. Far below her, as the morning sun rose across the meadow, she could see Vincent – coming to her at last! He was astride a white stallion, his cape flowing out behind him and his golden hair wild in the breeze.
‘Oh Vincent,’ breathed Samantha, hardly daring to look upon her one true love and having to peer demurely from between her long sooty eyelashes. Her heat beat hard behind the ruby red brocade of her bodice and her long dark ringlets shook with longing.
‘SAMANTHA!’ The door burst open and Vincent stood magnificently in its frame – the sunlight streaming in around him. He looked at her with such intensity a muscle was ticking in his strong manly jaw while his piercing blue eyes danced and glittered.
‘My love,’ he whispered, tenderly and ran forward, presenting her with a perfect bouquet of hand picked meadow flowers. She buried her face in their delicate petals.
‘Oh Vincent,’ she gasped, lovingly, and dared to touch her fingers to his chiselled cheekbone.
‘Oh Samantha,’ he sang, passionately and crushed her against his broad, strong chest. ‘I will never leave you again…’
THE PUSTULES OF PASSION
Samantha ran to the window. Far below her, as the morning sun rose across the meadow, she could see Vincent – coming to her at last! Very, very slowly. He was astride a giant slug, his entrails flowing out behind him and his golden hair wild in the breeze.
‘Oh Vincent,’ screamed Samantha, hardly daring to look upon her one true love and having to peer demurely from between two lumps of festering cheese. Her heart abruptly burst through the ruby red brocade of her bodice and her long dark dribbly nose shook with longing.
‘SAMANTHA!’ The door burst open and Vincent stood magnificently in its frame – the sunlight streaming in around him. He looked at her with three of his wiggly purple antennae - and a mussel and three limpets were sticking to his strong manly jaw while his piercing blue eye began to roll stickily down one cheek.
‘My love,’ he bellowed, tenderly and staggered forward, presenting her with a perfect bouquet of hand picked dead plague rats. She buried her face in their delicate boils.
‘Oh Vincent,’ she gagged, lovingly, and dared to touch a fork to his septic cheekbone.
‘Oh Samantha,’ he retched, passionately and crushed her.
Romance is dead.
<Sniff>
Ali
13/02/2009 at 4:55 pm Permalink
As Ali’s mother, I have been very worried about her being trapped by the monsters but knew that the other super authors would probably keep an eye on her. But now I am really worried because they have attacked Ali where it hurts most – no, not by depriving her of my home made fudge, which would be very near the critical mark, BUT by altering her work to show their evil ways. This is sooooo horrifying.
Hang in there Ali (but don’t tell the monsters where I live).
Ma Sparkes.
13/02/2009 at 4:59 pm Permalink
Oh Mum. It’s not like in those nice Mills & Boon books… Look – you could try a bit harder to get the fudge to me, you know… make it kind of torpedo shaped and the Monsters won’t know the difference.