Spotted Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in a Sobeys supermarket near my home, selling for the bargain price of $44. Ha! Anybody who bought those books were fools; FOOLS! Especially when all the major bookstores are offering deep discounts.
My mother-in-law Rosemarie and her husband Michael arrived later than expected, thanks to bad construction delays on the Detroit side of the Windsor-Detroit border. It looks like all the roads of Michigan are being rebuilt. Thank heavens we don’t have to go back to Omaha until Christmas at the earliest.
Anyway, despite that long drive, Michael and Rosemarie weren’t adverse to driving over to some shopping, so we headed for St. Jacobs, shopped a bit (I browsed the Lego superstore of the Factory Outlet Mall and then sat at in the food court and wrote) and then headed down to Uptown Waterloo for dinner and a little walking around. We then picked up a John Cleese documentary on the Human Face and whiled away the evening hours in front of the television.
Tomorrow promises to be hot, so we’re thinking of either heading north, or heading to a mall…
Turns out I was wrong in predicting Hagrid’s death within the pages of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Dead wrong, if you’ll excuse the pun.
Gee, if J.K. Rowling really wanted to mess with poor Harry’s head, she couldn’t have picked a more suitable character (we know Dumbledore is not going to last to the end of the series, but his death is so important, it can’t come any sooner than the end of book six). It’s a good sign, actually. It takes a brave writer to eliminate major characters like this.
Sometimes stories are never finished. I hadn’t touched Rosemary and Time since last October when a few nights ago Erin nudged me as I was going to sleep and whispered, “Peter… His impossible thing… his parents.”
In chapter four of Rosemary and Time, Peter and Rosemary have to pay the Ferryman a fare to get passage across the River Stix-like Sea of Ink. At first, the fare is three works of original poetry which Puck aces, Peter barely manages, and Rosemary flubs entirely. Failing that, the next fare ups the ante, obliging the three to work together to come up with six impossible things that they believe in…
“Like Alice,” Peter muttered.
“The White Queen, actually,” said Puck.
Peter, Puck and Rosemary struggle, but they come up with two impossible things each and are taken across the Sea of Ink. One of Rosemary’s impossible things is given privately to the Ferryman, and becomes a plot point later on in the book, but the others are just humdrum.
But Peter is an orphan, who lost his parents to a car accident five years beforehand.
Here’s the scene as it originally ran, followed by the rewrite…
“They’re not making it easy on her,” Peter muttered to Puck.
“Because it is her quest, and not ours,” said Puck. He stepped forward. “I’ll start. I live within a house the size of a thimble, and I believe that all that I say is a lie.”
“Acceptable,” said the Ferryman.
“Wait a minute,” said Peter. “If everything you say is a lie, then how can you be—”
“Shh,” said Puck. “Your turn.”
Peter thought hard. Then he snapped his fingers. “Bumblebees.”
“Bumblebees?” repeated the Ferryman.
“It is impossible for bumblebees to fly. But they do.”
“That’s aerodynamically speaking,” Rosemary huffed. “If they didn’t flap their wings, they’d drop like stones!”
But the Ferryman seemed satisfied. “What is your second impossible thing?”
Peter chewed a thumbnail for another long moment. He started casting nervous glances at Puck and Rosemary. Then he snapped his fingers. “They say it’s impossible to travel faster than light. But through the power of my imagination, I can be on Mars in an instant. And I don’t need a spaceship or a pressure suit to get around. How’s that?”
The Ferryman thought for a minute. Finally, he growled, “And now you, girl.”
Rosemary glared at Peter and Puck. They’d left the easy one for her, as if she needed help. Well, she did, and she hated that fact most of all. She drew into herself in thought.
Peter shifted. “Rosemary, come on,” he muttered. “The first one’s obvious — this whole place is impossible!”
Rosemary drew herself up. “I believe in imaginary numbers. The square root of negative one, and things like that.”
“You do?” said Peter. “Can you help me with my algebra homework?”
“Hush,” said Puck.
The Ferryman bowed. “What is your second impossible thing?”
Rosemary drew into herself again, thinking hard. A scowl crossed her face. She didn’t want to use the obvious one they’d given her.
Suddenly Rosemary smiled. She stepped towards the Ferryman and beckoned him down. The figure leaned over to lend her his invisible ear, and she whispered into the side of his cowl. He straightened up and put forth a long hand to the boat. “Board.”
As they stepped onto the jetty and from there onto the boat, Peter grabbed Rosemary’s sleeve. “What did you say to him?”
She blushed. “It’s personal.”
Peter stared.
And now, the rewrite:
“They’re not making it easy on her,” Peter muttered to Puck.
“Because it is her quest, and not ours,” said Puck. He stepped forward. “I’ll start. I live within a house the size of a thimble, and I believe that all that I say is a lie.”
“Wait a minute,” said Peter. “If everything you say is a lie, then how can you be—”
“Shh,” said Puck. “Your turn.”
“Okay.” Rosemary took a deep breath. “Well. I’m standing right here. And that’s impossible.”
“Go ahead, take the easy one!” Peter looked as if smoke was going to start rising from his head.
But before Peter could come up with something, Rosemary added: “I believe in imaginary numbers. The square root of negative one, and things like that.”
“You do?” said Peter. “Can you help me with my algebra homework?”
“Hush,” said Puck.
The Ferryman bowed. “And you, boy?”
Peter stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets, digging a toe in the paper-like sand for inspiration. Silence stretched. Then he blurted out, “I believe my parents are alive. I wake up and expect to be in my bedroom in Toronto, Dad making breakfast and Mom getting ready for work. And then I … Is that okay?”
“One more,” the ferryman intoned.
Rosemary had been staring at Peter in shocked sadness — her head jerked up at the Ferryman’s voice. Everyone stood still and silent. Finally a small smile dawned on Rosemary’s face. She stepped towards the Ferryman and beckoned him down. The figure leaned over to lend her his invisible ear, and she whispered into the side of his cowl. He straightened up and put forth a long hand to the boat. “Board.”
As they stepped onto the jetty and from there onto the boat, Peter grabbed Rosemary’s sleeve. “What did you say to him?”
She blushed. “It’s personal.”
Peter stared.
I think the revised scene is better because it’s shorter, and instead of one of the six impossible things having a part to play later in the story, a second impossible thing lends additional depth to Peter’s character and furthers his growing relationship with Rosemary. However, I was surprised, when writing this, to encounter a pacing problem. Initially, I decided to have the Ferryman disqualify Puck as he was himself a fictional character and thus an impossible thing, forcing Peter and Rosemary to come up with three impossible things each. But that dragged out the scene and diluted the tension.
The revised scene still isn’t all there, but I’ll keep looking at it. I think I’ve just made this section of the book stronger.
I guess this goes to show, always try to make your details do as much work for the story as possible. At the same time, don’t be surprised if your revisions don’t initially work as well as you hoped they would.