Writing is really all about revising. Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite. When I teach writing workshops, I tell my students that I cut the first four chapters of Rabbit in Red. There was too much exposition, and it was way too slow of an opening.
I'm doing something similar now. I have a completed 84,000 word novel called PIT OF DARKNESS, that I'm shopping around. I decided to cut the first fifty pages all together. I wanted to throw my reader right into the heart of the action.
That doesn't mean vital elements in the opening chapters-- of either of my books-- go away entirely. I just have to do a rewrite to incorporate them more naturally, without slowing down the narrative with unnecessary exposition.
Anyway, when thinking about all this, now that my
Rabbit in Red trilogy is complete with Bury the Rabbit hitting bookstores just a couple weeks ago, I went back and re-read the beginning just for kicks.
If you're a fan of my series, I thought you'd enjoy it. Enjoy the original opening to Rabbit in Red below :) It's not good, but you can see where I wanted the series to go right away. It's a critique of the educational system, and if you've gotten to book two, you know I ultimately set up a horror college at Rabbit in Red.
“So the nothing grows stronger,” the wolf threatened, and Bill ducked his head into his dad’s shoulder. He snuggled in between his parents on the couch, watching The Neverending Story, and although it was one of his favorite childhood films, the wolf and the Nothing terrified him. His dad embraced him, and Bill soaked in the comfort of his pop’s Old Spice. It was a smell that would jerk him from reality and throw him back to moments like this, to the happy childhood days when was father played the invincible hero. That was a long time ago. That was before his father had been murdered.
Bill awoke on a late September morning to find his mother slumbering on the couch. Now a senior in high school, Bill’s primary contact with his mother took place in these moments, saying good-bye to a passed out shell of human. As he walked by, Bill sighed at the sight of the empty vodka bottle on the coffee table, but he always bent over and kissed her goodbye, even if she never realized it or felt it only in a dream. He adjusted the blanket around her and tucked a pillow more firmly underneath her head. Drool drizzled out of her mouth and one arm dangled to the floor. Bill took her arm and wrapped it around her chest. “Bye, mom,” he kissed her and walked outside.
He waited by the bus stop; Bill didn’t have a car of his own. He took out his tablet and continued reading a novella by Stephen King called The Body. It was about four boys, all with dark pasts of their own, on an adventure to find a dead kid. Bill would have killed to have such an adventure with friends, even if the dead kid part was pretty sick. Reality bored him, but his books and movies thrilled him. School didn’t excite him, at least not anymore.
It wasn’t always bad. He enjoyed his freshman year, when things were new and when teachers and students wanted to be at school. In his freshman English class, they read Romeo and Juliet. He remembered his teacher Mr. Barker put them in a circle and made them talk about Romeo’s love life.
“When the play opens,” Mr. Barker started, “Romeo is in love. Imagine that. Who is he in love with?”
“Juliet! Duh,” a freshman wannabe jock answered.
“Thank you for not reading the play!” Mr. Barker told him and then threw—yes threw—an eraser at the kid. The class erupted in laughter.
“Nope. Our hormonal—or should I say horny—Romeo is,” and here Mr. Barker made air quotations, “in love when the play begins, but not with Juliet. Someone else who has read the play? Bill, do you know?” he asked.
“Rosaline,” Bill answered.
“That’s right! But our play is not called Romeo and Rosaline, is it? Romeo is depressed because Rosaline is committed to keeping her legs tightly closed. Romeo’s depression is getting on everyone’s nerves, especially his cousin Benvolio. What’s Benvolio’s advice?” he asked Bill again.
“To find other girls. He makes him go to a party to look at other chicks. And that’s where he meets Juliet.”
“That’s right. And so it is with love, my young Skywalkers. When you find yourself depressed over a breakup, no words will heal your pain. Remember Benvolio’s advice: you have to get back on the saddle. Only a new love can heal a heartbreak.”
But that was a long time ago, too.
Now as a senior, Bill sat in Mr. Barker’s English class again, first hour of the day, and they had been reading Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. Bill enjoyed the book and thought of all the great discussions they could have had. But no, Mr. Barker assigned a chapter and then made them take a multiple choice reading test after each one. The school demanded better test scores, virtually terminating the days of fun discussions. “This isn’t making us smarter. This is making us sheep,” Bill said out loud.
“Excuse me, Bill. What did you say?” Mr. Barker asked.
“Nothing,” Bill mumbled.
“That’s what I thought,” the teacher responded. “Now, make sure you have a sharpened number two pencil.”
“Sharp enough to gouge my eyes out, I hope,” Bill murmured.
“Bill, what was that?” Barker leaned forward with super sharp teacher hearing. Bill, a quiet student for the most part, felt a rush perhaps Bradbury would understand.
“How does this test accomplish anything? I think Bradbury would want us discussing his book. Not taking a dumb test.”
“You know the school is really in a burden with test scores, Bill. It’s what we have to do, and it does make a difference.”
“Yeah, a difference for your evaluation. And I suppose how much money the government gives this piece of shit school.”
“Ok, out, now. To the principal’s office, Bill. That attitude will not be tolerated.”
The principal’s ironic name was Mr. Dean. “This is your first visit here, and you’re a senior. That’s interesting, uh . . .” Mr. Dean looked at Bill’s rather empty record. “That’s interesting, Mr. Wise,” he continued. “What’s the problem today?”
“The problem is that school sucks. I’m tired of tests. I’m tired of everything.”
“It’s going to be a long senior year with that attitude.”
“You’re telling me.”
“It’s your first offense, so I’m only going to give you one detention. But I urge you to do as you’re told, and at all times to respect your teachers. Mr. Barker is one of our best.”
“He used to be. That was a long time ago.”
Mr. Dean, a short, fat, bald man who took out his adult self-esteem issues by disciplining teenagers, stared at Bill with a blank look on his face. Bill wasn’t sure if Mr. Dean was trying to figure him out or if he was constipated. Bill stifled a laugh; he imagined this is what it would be like to see Danny Devito taking a crap.
“Hmmm,” he grunted. “We’ll see you promptly after school. Don’t be late.”
*****
“Dude, what’s with that lame shirt?” some senior jock asked at lunch time. Bill couldn’t remember his name, which was fine. It wasn’t worth remembering.
Bill was wearing one of his favorite t-shirts: a red and yellow shirt that read “Stephen King Rules,” something he first saw in the 80s horror comedy The Monster Squad. Bill found it on eBay for ten bucks.
“If you knew how to read, you might find something more meaningful than what’s in between two goal posts.”
“You’re a real loser, you know that,” the jock said.
“Your mother tells me the same thing about you,” Bill replied. You could never go wrong insulting one’s mother. Well, maybe it could go wrong if the guy you were insulting was twice your size. Bill was tall but skinny, and this guy was as thick as a punching bag. Ironic, considering what happened next.
He socked Bill square in the jaw. Bill fell to the floor, spilling his lunch and his school books. It hurt enough that Bill wanted to cry for a moment, but that’s not what a senior in high school does. “Better hope it doesn’t bruise. Your mom likes looking at my O-face when she’s on top of me.”
The punching bag jock went to kick Bill, but a teacher jumped in between the two. It was Mr. Barker.
“Ryan,” he snapped. “Enough. To Mr. Dean’s office. Now.”
Ryan—a name Bill would forget as soon as possible—left with a grunt and a chuckle. Mr. Barker turned to Bill. “You ok?”
“Yeah.” Mr. Barker reached out a hand and pulled him up.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Bill cracked his slender neck from side to side and rubbed the small patch of chin stubble, an unsuccessful but never-ending attempt to age his teenage baby-face.
“Bill, you’re smart. And I know you see through some of the crap we have to put up with in the system that is high school. But there’s nothing we can do about it. That’s just the way school is.”
“I know . . . It’s just . . . I don’t know,” Bill muttered.
“If you work hard enough, maybe you can change it.”
“Whatever. I’m still just a kid,” he said, but he tried to correct himself. “Just a student, I mean.”
“All the great leaders in the world were once just kids, too. And students. Anything is possible.”
“Yeah, that’s what they say. And then they give you a multiple choice test,” Bill grinned. “Not exactly the tools we need to change the world.”
Mr. Barker sniggered. “No, you’re probably right there. One step at a time, Bill. Pass your tests. Then change the world.”
*****
Bill thought of Jaime throughout his afternoon classes. He didn’t have many friends here, but he did have one great friend: Jaime Stein. She lived out East, way out East, far away from the small Midwestern Illinois town Bill from which Bill longed to escape. Bill first met Jaime on an online group for kids who had lost a loved one. Her uncle had committed suicide, and Jaime searched for some kind of hope or answers, much like Bill wanted after the dreadful night he saw his dad murdered. It was long ago, when he was only eight years old, and he tried not to think about it. He tried to escape through horror and fantasy, but there were always triggers. A guy in PE class would spray some Old Spice and Bill could feel his father. He searched online for various things out of boredom and sadness, and that’s when he met the only person who got him through these long days. He knew after school they’d face chat and talk about all the ridiculous high school happenings.
Not long after that first group for kids who lost a loved one, he ran into Jaime again online on a horror forum that was discussing The Shining, King’s book versus Kubrick’s movie. They got into a heated argument. Bill thought King’s version was far superior and the Kubrick film ruined Jack’s character, making the man a monster and not revealing what really happened to the character at the end of the book. Jaime, on the other hand, thought King’s book was “diarrhea of the mouth,” to quote a critic, and that Kubrick’s take on the novel enhanced the horror and the setting of the story. Although they disagreed, it was a friendship in the making. He really needed to talk to her about today. It was not even a month into the school year, and Bill worried he was about to snap. There are so many exciting things in the world, and school used to be and should still be one of them, he thought. How did learning become so boring?
*****
Bill read all through detention. Not exactly a punishment for him. The detention lady refused to let anyone use electronic devices. She was old and mean, and Bill wondered if all detention monitors were old, mean ladies. It was like being on an airplane with the mother from Carrie as a stewardess, someone who would force you to pray ten Our Fathers every time you played with an electronic device. All Bill wanted to do was read, and The Body was buried useless on his tablet. So he picked up a newspaper that had been left on a nearby desk instead. An article in the entertainment section caught his eye.
Eccentric Horror Producer to Host Fright Fest Contest
Hollywood’s strangest horror producer, Jay Bell, is making himself public for the first time since opening his Rabbit in Red Studios over a decade ago. Known for the creepy demands of his staff, directors, and actors, Bell, or JB as he is more often called, first made news coverage when taking a group of actors and film staff to an allegedly haunted location in the middle of Germany before filming his first feature film, Haunted Mind. For his second movie, The Devil is You, JB flew the entire cast and crew to an old African village where members were supposedly possessed by demons. JB made the cast and crew participate in these and a variety of other hands-on experiences to make his films as genuinely real and terrifying as possible. The media have asked JB for numerous quotes and explanations, but he’s been strictly silent, and he forces his workers to a clause of silence. Until now. The Rabbit in Red producer has launched a website that introduces a special challenge for horror fans. The tagline on JB’s website reads: FIRST YOU FOLLOW THE RABBIT IN RED, THEN YOU PLAY IT, THEN YOU SAVE IT, AND AT LAST YOU MUST KILL IT. The contest begins in two weeks with a variety of riddles one must solve, all related to the horror genre, we assume. Those who solve the riddles will be invited to his actual studio, which has been strictly closed to the public and the media, to participate in variety of horror quests. The winner gets to take part in his next upcoming film in whatever medium he or she chooses. JB describes it like an internship. To quote the website: “We’re looking for young fans of horror to bring fresh ideas to the genre. But we don’t do applications in any ordinary way here. Your application will be the riddle challenge on October 17, live, timed, and online here on our website. If your ‘application’ is accepted, then you’ll be flown out for an ‘interview.’ But don’t worry about brushing up on interview questions. You’ll be challenged through our Fright Fest 4D simulations. The winner of those simulations will be offered a role right here at Rabbit in Red. We’re looking for actors, writers, directors, editors, and all aspects of the filming industry. If you have a passion for film and if horror is your life, then I invite you to join us.”
Bill read the rest of the article and then re-read it a dozen more times. When detention was over, he took the article with him. He couldn’t wait to tell Jaime about it.
He wanted an adventure. He wanted to get the hell out of his house and the hell away from this school. And this might be the perfect opportunity.
Did you enjoy this? If so, let me know! I've got all sorts of cut chapters and scenes from the series, and I'd enjoy sharing them with you!
