Let's talk about writing again.

Yeah, sometimes I write stuff.

Basically my WIP is about a girl who can't cope with her father's death.  When a new friend claims to be a werewolf, she chooses to believe it and try to become a werewolf, just to escape from reality.  Her friend was being honest, however, and the virus has an unexpected effect.

I guess I don't really have an interesting excerpt yet.  Posting anything makes me nervous, because I want this to be published and such.  I cut a bunch of stuff, though, because I was taking the wrong path in my writing.  How about I share something that probably won't be put into the book whatsoever?

Warning: The following contains swearing and characters that touch and proclaim plans to eat dead rabbits.  Roughly 1,200 words.

I must have stood there for twenty minutes, searching every possible crevice of that fucking rock. There was nothing that hinted to my father ever being here. I know he had to have been here -- I believed that -- but there was no trace.

I curled my fist and punched at the rock. My hand was still wrapped in gauze, still bruised, and it started throbbing in pain far too soon. I wanted to keep punching, but my body wouldn't obey, sending out feeble strikes instead.

I slumped against the rock wall, and then slid down onto the ground. There was broken glass all around me. Old beer bottles, I guessed. I didn't think I'd ever understand how it felt to drink your problems away. It didn't seem like a viable plan. It wouldn't fix anything, even if I was given the opportunity. My mother would be at home, waiting for me, ready to chew me out for leaving like this.

It was weird, because I thought mothers were supposed to have a bond with their kids. But she felt cold. More obligated than anything else. She'd been in California for years, but never settled down with any of her boyfriends, and never had any more kids. I don't think she even wanted to have me. All she wanted was that sunshine state.

As I sat there, a smell came through the air. At first it was too faint to place, but then it really hit me. Something rancid was out here. Something that smelled like three-month-old leftovers.

I got onto my feet and looked around, wondering where the smell was coming from. It was probably really gross, but I wanted to find out. I've always been guilty of being too curious, and needing to satisfy that curiosity.

So I plucked out a path towards the scent. The stench led me into the woods, and it was hard walking. For a while I had to carefully choose my footing, because the ground was so uneven with tree roots and rocks.

I found it before I could even see it. The stench was so strong, I had to cover my mouth and nose with my hand. Whatever it was, I could smell it, but I couldn't spot exactly what it was yet. Every step I took was very cautious. The last thing I wanted was to accidentally step in whatever this was. Then I saw a trail of fur, and the mystery was solved.

It looked like a snowshoe hare, judging by the mixture of white and brown fur. The poor thing never made it to winter. It's eyes were all glassy and wide-open. Did my dad die with his eyes open? Did some man in a lab coat cut him open on a table, the way they do on TV? I hoped to hell that whoever was handling him was giving him all the respect he deserved.  Even though it was just a rabbit, the eyes bothered me.

"That's mine."

I nearly came out of my skin, whirling around to see who spoke. A girl about my age had somehow managed to sneak up on me. She had reddish hair that went past her shoulders. It was odd, because I couldn't place her. Of the very few redheads I knew from school, she certainly wasn't one of them. But this was eclipsed when I realized what she was wearing. Just a stained t-shirt, faded jeans, and worn-out old sneakers.

She stared at me for a while, and then walked around me. I watched her go to the rabbit, tilt her head as she inspected it, and then kneel down.

"Yours?" I asked. "Was it your pet?" I suddenly imagined Moose lying on the ground, glassy-eyed and lifeless. God, I didn't know what I'd do.

"Pet?" she repeated, as if not understanding what I was asking. She gave me a look that made me feel stupid, as if rabbits were terrible pets in her opinion.

I tried to choose my words more carefully.

"Do you raise rabbits?"

She made a 'hmm'ing noise as she thought about it, and looked at the rabbit again. "Sure."

This girl was strange. "Sorry about your rabbit," I said, but couldn't help but notice her dry eyes.

"It looks good," she said. I didn't get what she meant, and cringed when she stroked the pelt. Then she grabbed the rabbit by the neck, and -- accompanied by the most wretched sound -- peeled the rabbit off the ground. The fur on the downward half of its body did not come out of the frost.

"Oh my God," I said, covering my mouth and nose for renewed reasons. The sight was nearly as bad as the smell.

The girl looked at the rabbit in her outstretched hand, and then at me. "Does it bother you?"

"Of course it does," I said, but I dropped my hands from my face, trying to reserve a little dignity.

"Why?"

Was she serious? I couldn't fathom a stupider question, but then I realized that she wanted an answer. And the question wasn't so stupid to her.

"It's dead. Worse than that, it's rotting and it stinks. Why would you touch it?"

"To take it home," she answered, almost laughing at me. She started walking away.

"I don't understand." There was no point in stuffing the animal since it had lost most of the fur. "Are you going to bury it?" The only other thing I could think of would be if she wanted to get the bones somehow.

Then she really did laugh at me.

"I'm gonna eat it."

"You're kidding!"

"No," she stopped and laughed again, giving me a perplexed look. "You don't eat rabbit?"

"I - yeah, I've eaten rabbit. But that's is practically roadkill." Sure, there wasn't a road near here, but the word still implied what I meant. The animal was a wreck, and the meat had to be rancid.

"Same thing," she said, lifting the carcass at me in a way that was reminiscent of a shrug. She turned and walked away, and this time I didn't dare make any more comments to stop her.

 Why it was cut:

1. I really want my werewolf to be more feral.  She's supposed to communicate more with body language than complete sentences.  I still feel awkward with the idea of writing broken dialogue, though.  Even though I tried to keep her simple, I still feel like I failed on the challenge of this character.

2. No connection.  Sure, one of the bonding points between them was going to be death.  But this is doing it wrong.  My MC unexpectedly showed compassion for the animal.  My werewolf didn't teach her anything, just freaked her out.

3. Too creepy.  I love creepy. I really do.  But this rabbit scene pushed the limits.  Sure, this book is going to a dark place.  Sure, people tell me that the overall tone is very cold and depressing, as it should be.  But my MC and the werewolf are supposed to become friends.  Otherwise my plot crumbles.  Well, not completely, but it loses a level of interest. With that above scenario, my MC should run away screaming and never look back, much less become best friends with her.  So unfortunately, I will have to take a more placid approach to their friendship.


An interesting note:  I don't think I've revealed the names of my characters on this blog.  My MC and werewolf girl appear to be under wraps.  I also don't describe my MC in the book.

Another interesting note: I changed/cut one line from my WIP, and the name of my MC's mother disappeared.  I don't think it will be put back in, or ever mentioned in the novel.  For the record, it's Lisa.

P.S. I really wish I had a beta like right now to help me as I write. -pout-