Original:
She was into her stride and it felt good. The newly oiled chain no longer rattled and the pedals turned as smooth as silk. The road was a sunny friendly strip running neat and tidy in its tarmac groove ahead of her. She heard the train first as a kind of distant whisper, a small ripple of sound away off to her left.
There was still time.
Edited:
She was into her stride. The newly oiled chain no longer rattled and the pedals turned as smooth as silk. The road, neat and tidy in its tarmac groove, stretched before her under a friendly sky . In the distance a whisper, a ripple of sound off to her left: the train.
Original:
She tossed her head and the summer breeze slipped like fingers through her hair. She was suddenly seized with a lightness of spirit, an unexpected shiver of excitement that only the mix of sun and sky and the breeze can bring. She bent forward over the handlebars pushing harder with her feet. Up, down, up, down, her bare knees appearing and disappearing from under the hem of her short cotton skirt. She could hear the train closer now, a high pitched humming, a clean clear sound.
A challenge.
Edited:
The summer breeze slipped like fingers through her hair, sending a shimmy of excitement to to the tips of her fingers. She bent low over the handlebars, pumping her feet down, up, down, up, bare knees disappearing and reappearing beneath the hem of her short cotton skirt. The high clean hum of the tracks hissed: the train is coming, the train is coming.
Original:
She smiled and stood up on the pedals, leaned forward, focusing on hitting the bottom of the arc of the pedal’s movement as hard as she could and pulling each foot up for the next thrust. The feel of the pedal beneath the ball of each foot was intoxicating. Up, down, up down, she caught and held the strong steady rythmn. She stared at the flashing of the spokes of her front wheel in the sunlight. They whirred as they spun. With each thrust of her foot, the bike rocked beneath her from side to side like a demented creature. She lifted her head slightly and through her flying hair she could see the tracks just ahead, twin silver streaks slicing through the tarmac across the road in perfect symmetry. There was a wall of sound coming from the train, the snub nose of the engine hurtling through the afternoon like a bullet through butter.
But there was still time.
Edited:
She smiled and stood on the pedals, hitting the bottom arc hard, each foot floating up for the next thrust. An intoxicating rhythm–she caught it and held on. Her spokes flashed in the sunlight; the bike rocked beneath her like a creature demented. Through her flying hair twin silver streaks sliced the road ahead. A wall of sound, the snub nose of the engine hurtled through the blue afternoon.
There was still time.
Original:
She must judge it finely. The front wheel must pass smooth as water over the tracks without catching on the steel and concrete. She aimed the front wheel straight at the tracks and urged her feet still faster. Up, down, up down, her knees were a blur; her hair blasted back, the wind pummeling her cheeks. As she hit the tracks she turned her head slightly, looked straight at the beast. The sound was monstrous, it completely filled her; she couldn’t see anything in the thrashing of her hair as the burst of air from the train battered her head. Then for a split second she saw the driver, his mouth open in a long shriek of shock. She smelled the heat and oil of the machine and gripped the handlebars with hands greasy with sweat. She felt her back wheel bounce clear of the track. The train sped away in a long snarl off to her right, cheated again.
Edited:
She aimed the front wheel straight at the tracks, urging her feet still faster, her knees a blur, hair blasted back, the wind pummeling her cheeks. The front wheel flowed like water over steel and concrete and she turned her head, looked straight at the beast and its driver, mouths open in a long shriek of shock. Monstrous sound filled her; her thrashing hair blinded her; the heat and oil of the machine bore down as her back wheel bounced clear of the track. Her heart sang as the train snarled away off to her right, cheated again.
Editor’s Notes:
So, you may not agree with all my choices, but I can explain why I made them.
Filtering: One thing I changed consistently in this piece was Marion’s use of “filtering”. Filtering is when the fictional information is filtered with words through the character, like so:
“She heard the train first as a kind of distant whisper . . .”
“She could hear the train closer now . . .”
“She lifted her head slightly and through her flying hair she could see the tracks . . .”
“. . . for a split second she saw the driver,”
Because I believe Marion’s intention with this piece is to make us feel the track crossing in a very immediate and suspenseful way, I wanted the prose to stay very close inside that character. Note how removing the “filters” puts you right inside the character’s mind, right behind the character’s eyes. You don’t always need to tell the reader “she saw” or “she heard”–because we know where we are. We know who’s seeing and hearing. Even more so in this piece, where there’s only one character.
Passive Voice: Need I say it? I tried to replace it pretty much everywhere I saw it.
Pressing for Precision & Avoiding Cliche:
as smooth as silk
shiver of excitement
she felt her heart sing
Know that I understand avoiding cliche can be very difficult, particularly when we’re trying to describe how something feels in the body. All those excited shivers and singing (hammering, pounding) hearts have been done and done and done. Try and find a new way to say it–press to be really precise about what you’re saying, about what you’re trying to describe. For the above, except for the singing heart–which I would delete because the piece itself makes perfectly clear how she feels without it–I’d advise Marion to try and replace these phrases/descriptions with something more uniquely “Marion”. Marion has a beautiful stylistic voice that’s well up to this task.
