:bmww:

[Auntie's sat between a [shop] and [shop], its colorful awning stretching over the sidewalk. It was a restaurant without pretension; though the food [was Bombay-based], an outline of the Taj Mahal surrounded the restaurant name. The décor was a mix of Bollywood and [x]. Nothing subtle about it, and it catered to anyone who wanted Indian fare and an atmosphere that screamed: foreign, exotic, and unreal. Unapologetically [kitschy] and only the food was authentic?]

[Music pounded] from the Jaguar’s speakers; he’d turned it on to cover the silence that had fallen between them–awkward for him, but apparently not Savitri. He’d hoped she would [grill] him on his latest obsession with [music style], but she’d only closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest.

She looked at him when he lowered the volume, then frowned as he pulled over in front of the restaurant, double-parked beside a green sedan. “You aren’t coming in? No kiss for Nani?”

He watched her features carefully as he said, “I need to feed. Unless your kiss earlier meant that you’d [like to add yourself to the menu.]“

The last part was in brackets because it was a stupid line, and I knew it at the time.

Here, I just didn’t want to write the scene where Colin has to feed from another woman (because he had to be sexual with someone else.)

As if his soft question had been a command, her gaze unfocused. “Twenty-three years ago. I…dreamed of you. You came to me one night and I invited you up–” Her voice failed, and her cheeks filled with color. Blood, just under her skin. “It was a good dream.”

[He couldn't keep the smile from his lips.] A night of extraordinary pleasure from a stranger; he always became a drunken [hallucination] or a dream.

“And you’re still so beautiful.” A wistful note in her voice now, but she glanced down at her hands, not at him. His gaze followed hers. Age had not settled deeply on her fingers, but he could see the slight loosening of the skin, the veins more prominent beneath than a young woman’s would have been. “Will you come up again? I was supposed to go out–but he cancelled–and I ordered take-out instead. There will be enough for two. God knows I shouldn’t eat it all myself.”

[He agrees--goes up--kisses her--against the door--is thinking of Savi--her kiss--not even her shields down and the bloodlust eases...and the same as at Polidori's, left wanting her all the same. Her kiss evidence that she wanted him; not that there was any doubt of it. Obsession; she needed to give in soon--his control waning. Hugh and Lilith--free will, would not be an issue. Why was he accepting a substitute? Once she'd had a taste of the pleasure he could offer her, she'd not want to give it up; he just needed to make her want it more than she wanted her next breath. As he did .]

And this is when I don’t want to spend time looking up names or running through setting descriptions, because I want to get to the good stuff (character dialogue and interaction.)

And where was he now?

[he should have stood out -- description of restaurant--his reaction to it]

She frowned, then saw the table near the front window with a single teacup steaming on its surface–though no Colin. [name] stood at the [cashier's counter]; [Savi waited until she'd given a regular her take-out order before pointing to the table and lifting her brows. She smiled at the woman before she left; she was a regular, though looking rather dazed at the moment.] “Is that Colin’s table? British [white]?”

[name] grinned. “Handsome? Yes.”

Nani brought another take-out bag to the counter and clicked her tongue. “Did the [food/name] come for her order?”

“She said she fell asleep.”

“She makes too long a day, that one. And her divorce! So much stress. Is that all you are eating, naatin?” Nani shook her head at Savi’s soup bowl and disappeared back into the kitchen again.

Savi met [name's] [laughing gaze], and sighed. “I’ll be by the window if the phones get too crazy.”

It didn’t surprise her that Colin was sitting at the table when she turned around. His fingers curled around his teacup, his thumbs absently tracing the rim. Her bowl clinked against the sheet of glass protecting the crimson silk tablecloth. She kept her tone light. “You drank from one of our customers?”

["Hiding beneath the table was its own reprimand,"] he said easily. He looked at her soup and drew in a long breath. “What is that?”

“Mulligatawny.” She pushed her spoon into the thick soup. “[list of ingredients.] Not true Indian cuisine–they aren’t big on soups–but popular, so we make a meatless version of it.” She lifted her gaze to his, and smiled wryly. “The British are responsible for its creation, actually.”

“Our colonies did produce many a spectacular [concoction/fusion.]” His teeth flashed briefly; though he laughed and smiled openly in private company, he was careful to keep his fangs from showing in public. It was a shame, she decided; his mouth was incredible. Remembering how the sharp edges of his teeth had skimmed over her neck, she repressed a delicious shiver.

First drafts are really sad.

A lot of times I put emotional responses into brackets, just because I’m not always sure if that initial response is exactly what I want them to have … or if I want them to spell it out … or if I can find a better way to have them say it. Physical expressions, too, especially when I’m feeling that they’re becoming too repetitive.

Ha! I wrote that and then you put up that second example. That is really funny. Names and descriptions. It is really a smart seeming technique!

I suppose this helps your later self be your own editor, and I suppose a person is sometimes more in the mood to run through and construct a thing rather than caress it.

Whatever. It’s working!

He looked down at his hand. A silvery scar crossed his palm, a remnant of a blood-brother ritual he and his [best] friend, Anthony Ramsdell, had completed when they were boys. They couldn’t have known the sword they’d used had once belonged to the Doyen, who had killed a Chaos dragon with it.

Couldn’t have known that the dragon’s blood [imbued] its power in the metal of the sword, and some of that transferred to their blood. Tainted it.

An action for which he could never have anticipated the consequence; [but [nineteen years later], as a young vampire aware of his origins, he should have known better when he tried to perform a different–and apparently as harmless–ritual.]

In such things, appearances were almost always deceiving.

“A week,” he said.

“Did you have any extraordinary abilities before you were attacked by the nosferatu?” Lilith arched a brow. “Excepting your beauty, of course. Speed, strength?”

A slight smile pulled at his mouth. “No.”

“Did Ramsdell? Or your sister?”

“No.” His throat tightened. “Aside from…the way they went.”

[[Lilith and Hugh shared a warm look ], and Colin had to look away. No longer immortal–though certainly long-lived–they likely hoped for the same.]

So there’s quite a bit there I had to go back and fix, and by the time I’m at the end of the manuscript, it might take a week or more to go back and edit/caress everything into place. If that ends up being close to a deadline, the brackets can give me a false sense of security.

So if I get stuck in other places (a scene isn’t working right, but I can’t really justify walking away from the manuscript) one thing I do is search out those brackets and see if I can write through any of them. Sometimes, I realize I just need to cut out the sentence (like the last one in the example above) or I decide that the word is okay after all (I think I did use “imbue” in the final version).

Or I might be far enough ahead to say, “Okay, I DO need that background info there” and then write it in. So it’s nice to have that easily-searchable content that you know needs work and editing, for those times when it’s hard to move ahead.

CJ – I use brackets quite a bit in the early parts of the story. Sometimes it means that I can’t find the right word, but I need to stop beating myself up at that moment and come back to it later. Other times, I need research and I’ll just put everything I bullshit in brackets to be looked up. Then there are scenes where I outline what needs to be done, but put the whole thing in brackets to come back to later. Not many scenes like that … but sometimes.

A current one:

“I was named a heretic and burned at the stake.” He could not suppress the irony in his tone.
[Alejandro’s background goes here.]

It’s not that I don’t know his backstory and couldn’t write it … but I’m not sure at that point if I want to put it there, or if it would come out just as well in another spot.

One thing I do feel sometimes is locked into the way something is written once I’ve written it. Not that I can’t revise … but that it’s harder for me to cut it out and to IMAGINE cutting it out once it’s there. So anything I’m not sure of — especially backstory and worldbuilding — can go into brackets without too much of a problem.

Add to that not wanting to bring the narrative to a screeeeeeeeeeching halt while someone says, “Well, Bob, as you know…”

Kudos to you, Meljean, for handling it so well.

Anyway, congrats on getting it how you like! Or, thanks in advance.