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It's the little things...
Feb. 10th, 2009 12:07 pmI just moved a single line from one place in a paragraph to another place farther on in the paragraph so that it connects better with the last line in that paragraph.
It started like this:
They stopped, and he hung there by his bruised and bleeding wrists, limp and panting and wishing like hell he could pass out. One of them grabbed his hair and growled into his face, "Tell your bitch of a boss to back off. Or your girlfriend is next." The whip slashed across his chest once, and then backhanded across his stomach, and his wish was granted.
And now it's this:
They stopped, and one of them grabbed his hair and growled into his face, "Tell your bitch of a boss to back off. Or your girlfriend is next." Ben hung there by his bruised and bleeding wrists, limp and panting and wishing like hell he could pass out. The whip slashed across his chest once, and then backhanded across his stomach, and his wish was granted.
Yes. This is me, still tweaking the opening.
It started like this:
They stopped, and he hung there by his bruised and bleeding wrists, limp and panting and wishing like hell he could pass out. One of them grabbed his hair and growled into his face, "Tell your bitch of a boss to back off. Or your girlfriend is next." The whip slashed across his chest once, and then backhanded across his stomach, and his wish was granted.
And now it's this:
They stopped, and one of them grabbed his hair and growled into his face, "Tell your bitch of a boss to back off. Or your girlfriend is next." Ben hung there by his bruised and bleeding wrists, limp and panting and wishing like hell he could pass out. The whip slashed across his chest once, and then backhanded across his stomach, and his wish was granted.
Yes. This is me, still tweaking the opening.
