Ok, here we go. This is a snippet of conversation in the current work in progress. If I were a more sophisticated author, I would probably wait until the project was nearer completion before I started slapping random bits of the story up on the blog. But I’m not. So I am.
The protagonist’s name is Eric. He started his young adult life out the way some people do, a little wilder than the usual. He skipped college and partied for a couple of years, basically became a loser. Then tragedy struck. He’s trying to get his life on track by enrolling in college and doing his best to lead a normal life.
In his eyes, normal = safe.
The other character is a girl he just met. Her name is Chelsea. She’s a little quirky.
Eric’s uncle, Nathan, introduces them over breakfast. This could change once I edit it properly.
“Eggs are ready.” Nathan called, then to his guest, he said, “I may not be a chef, but eggs and bacon, I can do.”
Morning light blazed through the tall windows, reached past the leather sofa and easy chairs, to the dining room. The girl sitting at the table giggled.
“I don’t know how anyone can sleep through that sunshine. I leaped from bed this morning.”
“Maybe I should take back that coffee. I wouldn’t want to ruin anyone’s natural high.”
“Don’t you dare.” She pulled the mug closer.
Nathan spooned scrambled eggs onto her plate.
She said, “I thought I would take him to the grove first because it’s the best place.”
Eric walked in. At the old, oak round sat a petite girl around his age. She had unevenly cut auburn hair almost to her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled sapphire blue.
“Eric, this is Chelsea.” Nathan motioned to the chair next to her with the serving spoon in his hand. A breakfast plate waited there.
“Nice to meet you.” She put her hand out for him to shake it.
“Nice to meet you too. So, you live in the tower?”
Nathan left them alone in the dining room, winking at Eric as he walked out.
Chelsea pointed to the ceiling, “Two floors above you. I still live with my parents because I like to. I would miss them if I left. I think they would miss me too.” She spoke between eagerly shoved forkfuls of egg into her mouth. “I learn so much from them all the time. Dad’s a curator. Mom writes marketing copy for catalogs and websites, mostly for flower bulbs.” She paused to drink her coffee.
“Are you in school?” Eric asked.
“No, but I want to be a veterinarian.”
“I’m pretty sure you have to go to school for that.”
“I know. That’s the only drawback.” She sighed wistfully.
“Drawback? How would you know what you were doing without going to school?”
“Sometimes people just know things by nature. You’re studying photography at Restin, right?”
“Going to, yes.”
“Do you know how to take a photograph now?”
“Do you need a teacher to tell you what kind of photograph you find aesthetically pleasing?”
“Well, no, but there are technical aspects to the process – proper lighting and shutter speed -“
Chelsea pointed at him with a slice of bacon between her thumb and forefinger.
“So you don’t think that you could go into the world and make art without a teacher’s idea of how you should proceed?”
“I never thought of it like that before.”
“Formal education can be a shackle. Don’t let them get the best of you.” She spoke with her mouth full.
“Them as in who?”
“The doubters. The purveyors of convention. I can’t go anywhere with you until you promise me you won’t sell out.”
“No one offered to buy me.”
She laughed, “Very good. You are a funny one. Bring that camera of yours, and I might let you take a picture of me.” She closed her eyes, laced her fingers under her chin and made a mock kissy face.
Some of it is awkward, I know. The conversation will likely expand or contract or may even be deleted and rewritten entirely, but that’s what it looks like at this very second.
Word count update: 49735
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