Deep Point of View Homework

I’ve been taking some online writing workshops, for those of you who are looking to beef up your abilities or perhaps learn more about the business of writing I highly recommend this. In particular, if you ever have the chance to take a class on POV from the AWESOME Carrie Lofty, DO IT!! I’ve taken a lot of workshops and many have been helpful, but her perspective has caused me to look at my work in an entirely new way. She’s wicked smart, her books rock, and she makes a mean Apple Brown Betty (Okay, I have no clue about that last part, I just wanted to indulge in the momentary fantasy of being invited over for dessert by someone so awesome. I also dream nightly about making hamburger helper with JR Ward while we watch old episodes of Six Feet Under).

Anyhoo, the passage below is my crack at a young heroine who was a survivor of rape, first when she meets a man who will later be her love interest, and later when he declares his love for her:


Nellie’s eyes flicked around the restaurant, hastily roving over the gaggle of dreadlocked hippies, past the geeks and nerdlingers, before lighting oh-so casually on the table of rugby players who sat across from her. Intensely dark eyes met hers from across the way, and hot embarrassment crept up the back of her neck as she watched his hand brush a stray lock of ebony hair from his forehead. Oh God, did he know she was looking? She couldn’t help but chance another peek moments later, and the loveliest mouth she had ever seen was curled into an amused smile and seemed to be aimed in her direction along with its partners in crime up above. Yikes.

Her friend Bryan nudged with her toe, a movement she barely registered because she was busy wondering if the guy’s skin had that same smooth chai latte color up close. “I think he’s checking you out,” her friend whispered. Nellie’s heart skittered in her chest, jack-rabbit style, but she shook her head and bent with renewed interest over her tofu scramble. “Nuh-uh, probably checking our waitress out.” she gestured vaguely behind herself. Ah, but yet…hunk ho! He has risen from his table and was striding towards them, that cute little smile still perched upon his face, all rippling biceps and casually slung Diesel jeans which seemed -if she were being honest with herself- to be heading right her way. “Hey there,” he said with a voice that was clear and husky all at the same time. A smoker maybe? She glanced up tentatively at those dark eyes, that now seemed to smolder and dance, and the lips parted to show off a set of pearly whites that would make any dentist proud. The thin cotton of his t-shirt strained and stretched under the movement of a marvelously sculpted bicep as he reached into his back pocket for…a bright orange flyer. “You like Weezer?”

Ah, he was a party promoter. The breath she didn’t realize she had been holding wheeshed out of Nellie in a long stream, taking some of her nervous energy with it. The frenetic pace of her heart slowed down. She indulged in one final glance at those crazy-sexy eyes before smiling and taking the flyer from his long fingers. Turned out his skin did look just as smooth up close.


Rick poised on the brink of entering her. Hovering, he seemed to float effortlessly, but she could see a slight tremor in those biceps she loved so much. Hands that were calloused from his summer construction job caressed her face, dragging one dark, reassuring finger across her jaw in an almost reverent manner. He had been biting his nails again, she would have fo ask him why later.

He brought his face close, as if studying her, and she did the same, focusing carefully on his deep chocolate eyes. The little flecks of green and gold around his iris glittered in the dim lamplight, shining from what looked to be a little sheen of extra moisture. Nellie had never seen him so emotional. Running her hands up his arms and across his back, she absorbed the detail in each ripple of muscle, the straining stretch of his traps while he fought to stay poised on this precipice they were preparing to jump over.

“God, I love you,” he breathed raggedly, as he slid home, and Nellie’s heart hammered. Her entire body trembled like crazy. Her fingers gripped tight to his shoulders, she focused on the movement of his muscles as he made love to her, never letting her eyes leave his face. Memorizing the fall of dark hair that dipped over his nose, his perpetual five-o-clock shadow…those glittering eyes. Everything that made Rick, Rick. She thought inanely about that  afternoon’s engineering lecture on aerostatic flutter, the vibrational force that caused the collapse of that huge bridge in the forties. Jesus, there was love and passion all over his face as he moved in and out of her, and all she could think about was hoping that she didn’t break apart just like that bridge.

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