Does anyone else do this? I have found that usually on my first pass through a scene, my brain is working so fast that my fingers can barely keep up. Usually this means the scene is mostly conversation and moves quite quickly from one topic to another without natural pauses or any description of behavior/action/setting.
The next pass–or layer–has me slowing the scene down, having the characters take their time with their conversation, giving them more realistic and natural responses and segues. The third layer of the scene is usually even more of the same. Slow it down even more, expand on the conversational asides, bring it all back around to the topic at hand, and and nail down the right words.
The fourth pass adds the body movements, like standing up to get more coffee, or brushing hair from foreheads. Making sure if someone is hugging someone else, that they aren’t doing it for an unnatural length of time, or if they stand up, that they aren’t standing there looming over the other characters for paragraphs of dialogue.
The fifth pass is usually more of the same. Realizing, “Oh, wait, I sort of over-explained that position. No one cares where his hand is exactly.” That sort of thing.
The sixth pass is when I add in the setting. What does the room look like? Sound like? What are my characters looking at? What are they seeing, tasting, smelling?
This is a bit time consuming, and I really envy writers who seem to do this all on the first go, but I really just can’t. I’ve come to see my scenes like paintings. You have to get the broad strokes down first, and then go back over it with different brushes to get the details right.
Unquestionably talented figure skater Matty Marcus is willing to sacrifice everything for his Olympic dream, but his lack of discipline cost him the gold once before. Now the pressure’s on. He needs a coach who can keep him in line, but top coaches don’t come cheap, and Matty can’t afford to stay in the game no matter how badly he wants to win.
When a lucrative house-sitting gig brings him to rural Montana, Matty does his best to maintain his training regimen. Local residents turn out to be surprisingly tolerant of his flamboyant style, especially handsome young rancher Rob Lovely, who proves to be much more than a cowboy stereotype. Just as Matty requires a firm hand to perform his best on the ice, Rob shows him how strong he can be when he relinquishes control in the bedroom. With new-found self-assurance, he drives himself harder to go straight to the top.
But competition has a timetable, and to achieve his Olympic dream, Matty will have to join his new coach in New York City, leaving Rob behind. Now he must face the ultimate test. Has he truly learned how to win—on and off the ice—during his training season?
