For this post, I’m putting the snark
cannons away (they’ll be back for Chapter 4, don’t worry) and just trying to do
a basic edit on the rest of chapter 3. I’ll pop a link to a pdf in at the end
if you want to remind yourself of the torturous original.
While we’re here, I am NOT saying I am
a good writer. I haven’t sold any books, and as I am sure a few of you who know
me would want to point out, I haven’t even finished my OWN book.
What I have done is read a lot, written
a lot and I’m still learning about the ‘craft’. So let’s look at this as a bit
of practice for me, flexing some editing muscles, if you like. Excuse the bad formatting, again the original text was copied and pasted from a PDF which makes a transfer to Word and then Blogger a little weird looking.
As an aside, I started reading both Tess and Twilight. Everyone
now knows that FSOG started as Twilight fan-fic, but I hadn’t
realised just how much it had been ripped off – and I’m only on chapter one!
Comparisons between the three books are something I might write about in a
future post, but for now…….
Let’s re-join Ana, Kate and José at the Heathman Hotel, where they have
gone to take photographs of the enigmatic Christian Grey for the student
newspaper interview. José has just
finished taking the pictures…..
“Great, thank you again, Mr. Grey.”
says Kate, shaking his hand.
“I look forward to reading the article,
Miss Kavanagh,” says Grey. ‘Can I speak to you for a minute, Ana?’
“Sure,” I say, I glancing at Kate, who
just shrugs.
‘Thank you, José , Travis,’ Grey says,
as he holds the door open for me.
What does he want? I wonder as I walk into the
corridor.
Grey emerges from the room followed by Buzz-Cut in his sharp suit.
“I’ll call you, Taylor,” he says to Buzz-Cut
Taylor nods and walks away down the
corridor. Grey turns to me.
“I wondered if you would join me for
coffee this morning,” he asks.
My heart leaps into my mouth. A
date? Christian Grey is asking me on a date?
I clear my throat, trying to control my
nerves.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t.
I have to drive everyone home,’ I say.
‘Taylor!’ he calls. Taylor
turns around and walks back towards us.
“Are your friends
based at the university?” Grey asks me softly.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
“ Taylor - please can
you drive José , Travis and Miss Kavanagh back home?”
“Certainly sir,”
Taylor says.
“There. Now you can
join me for coffee,” Grey asks, smiling.
“Um, Mr. Grey, look,
Taylor doesn’t have to drive them home.” I glance at Taylor, “I’ll
swap cars with Kate, if you give me a moment?’
Grey smiles an
unguarded, natural, smile. He opens the door of the suite and I go
back inside, where Kate and José are talking.
“Ana, I think he
definitely likes you,” she says when she sees me. “But I don’t trust
him,” she adds.
“Kate,’ I interrupt,
if you take the Beetle, can I take your car?”
“Why?”
I’ve still edited this bit, though if I
was editing the whole book, I’d actually cut this whole exchange. José
or Travis could have driven them all to
the Heathman in the same car at the start of C3. I haven’t got to this bit in Twilight yet,
so I don’t know why all this fucking around with who’s driving who is important.
“Christian Grey has asked me to go for
coffee with him.” I tell her.
She looked a bit surprised, then grabs
me by my arm and drags me into the bedroom.
“Ana, there’s something about him,’ she
says, sounding worried. ‘He’s gorgeous, I agree. But I think he’s dangerous,
especially to someone like you.”
“What do you mean, someone like me?” I
say, feeling insulted.
‘You know what I mean, Ana,’ she says.
I feel my face getting hot.
‘Kate, it’s just coffee. I’m starting
my exams this week, and I need to study, so I won’t
be long.”
She seems to think it over.
‘Alright, then,’ she says eventually,
and we swap keys. “I’ll see you later. Don’t be long, or I’ll send out a search
party,’
“Thanks, Kate,” I say, hugging her.
I leave the suite to find Christian
Grey waiting in the corridor. He looks like a model posing for a glossy
magazine.
“Okay, let’s get coffee,” I say, and I
hope I’m not blushing.
He grins.
“After you, Ana” he says, holding his
hand out for me to go first.
I make my way down the corridor, my
knees feeling like jelly, butterflies in my tummy, my heart thumping.
The elevator doors slide open to reveal
a young couple kissing passionately. They quickly let go of each other as we
walk in, and I struggle to maintain a straight face.. I’m definitely blushing
now. When I glance up at Grey, he has a hint of a smile on his lips.
The four of us ride down to the first
floor in awkward silence.
When the doors open, Grey takes my
hand, clasping it with his cool fingers. I feel a tingling current run through
me. As we walk away, I can hear the kissing couple laughing.
“What is it about elevators?” Grey
says, shaking his head and smiling.
It’s a fine, May morning and Christian
Grey is holding my hand.
I hope he can’t feel me trembling and I
try to suppress the great big silly smile I have on my face.
In the Portland Coffee House, Grey
says, “Go choose a table while I get the drinks. What would you like?”
“English breakfast tea, please. Bag
out.”
“OK. Sugar?”
For a moment, I think I’ve misheard,
then I realise he’s asking me if I want sugar.
“No thanks.” I say.
“Anything to eat?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
He heads to the counter and I stare at
him as he stands in line.
A couple of times he runs his fingers
through his now dry but still messy hair. I’d like to run my
fingers through his hair, I think. All these unfamiliar images keep
popping into my head since I met Christian Grey, and I don’t know what to make
of them. I’ve never thought about anyone like this before. But is he just being
friendly? Am I imagining the way he looks at me?
“Penny for your thoughts?” Grey says,
as he sets our drinks down on the table. He sits down opposite me and crosses
his long legs. He looks so comfortable, so at ease in his own skin.
I was just thinking about running my
fingers through your hair.
“Thanks for the tea.” I say, as I plop
the teabag into the pot and almost immediately fish it out again. He looks at
me quizzically.
“I like my tea weak,” I explain.
“I can see that. Is José your boyfriend?’ he asks.
“No. José’s a good friend of mine, that’s
all. What made you think he’s my boyfriend?”
“The way that you look at each other,”
“He’s more like a brother,” I say.
Grey nods, and peels the paper from the
blueberry muffin he has bought for himself.
“Do you want some?” he offers.
“No thanks, I’m not hungry,’
‘Is the man I met at the store
yesterday your boyfriend?’ he asks.
“No. Paul’s just a friend. Why?’
“You seem nervous around men.”
“You make me nervous,’ I
admit.
“You’re very honest.,’ he says. ‘and
you’re mysterious,’
“Oh, there’s nothing mysterious about
me.” I say, because it’s the truth.
“You seem very reserved,” he adds.
Am I reserved? I don’t think I am.
“Except when you blush, which you do a
lot. I’d like to know what you’re blushing about.” He pops a small
piece of muffin into his mouth and chews slowly, not taking his eyes off me.
‘You seem authoritarian,” I challenge.
He raises his eyebrows. ‘I’m used to
getting my own way, Ana,’
“I don’t doubt that. Why haven’t you
asked me to call you Christian?”
“The only people who call me Christian
are my family and friends,’
Oh. He is arrogant.
I take a sip of my tea, and Grey eats
another piece of his muffin.
“Are you an only child?” he asks.
“Yes.” I reply.
“Tell me about your parents.”
“My mom lives in Georgia with her new
husband Bob. My stepdad, Ray, lives in Montesano.”
“Where is your father?”
“My father died when I was a baby.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and for a moment,
he looks troubled.
“Don’t be sorry. I don’t remember him.”
I say. ‘I had Ray. He raised me,’
‘What’s Ray like?’
“He’s a typical dad. You know? He likes
football, and carpentry, fixing cars and drinking beer. He’s not very
talkative, but he’s always been there for me when I’ve needed him,’
“You lived with him?”
“Yes. My mom met her third husband when
I was fifteen. I decided to stay with Ray.”
“You didn’t want to live with your
mom?” he asks.
“It was difficult. The third husband
lived in Texas. My home was in Montesano. Tell me about your parents,”
“My dad’s a lawyer, my mom is a
paediatrician. They live in Seattle.”
‘They must be very proud of you. What
do your siblings do?”
“Elliot’s in construction, and my
little sister, Mia, is in Paris, training to be a chef,’
“Everyone says Paris is beautiful," I
say.
“It is. Have you been?” he asks.
“I’ve never left the USA.” I admit.
“Would you like to go to Paris one
day?’
“Of course,” I say, “but I’d like to go
to England more,’
‘Why England in particular?’
‘I’d like to see the places that
inspired writers like Hardy, Austen and the Brontë sisters. The wild moors, the
Wessex countryside. Talking about writers, I should be studying. My exams start
on Tuesday,’
I don’t know if I imagine it, but I
think he looks disappointed.
“Where are you parked?’ he asks.
“At the hotel,’
“I’ll walk you back.”
During our silent walk back to the
hotel, I try to gauge how our coffee morning has gone. It felt more like an
interview than a friendly coffee, or like I was being tested.
We reached an intersection, across the
road from the hotel.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I thought
I’d only imagined saying it, but I have blurted the words out-loud.
“No, Ana, I don’t do the girlfriend
thing,” he says.
What does that mean? Is he laughing at
me? He wants to know everything about me, but won’t tell me anything about
himself! Was he just teasing me?
I step out into the road without
looking.
“Ana!” Grey tugs my hand so hard that
I’m pulled against him. The cyclist who has just narrowly missed knocking me
down whips past.
“Are you okay?” Grey says. He has one
arm around me, holding me against his chest and I can feel the thud of his
heart. He smells really good, and I am staring at his mouth, and for the first
time in my life, I’m thinking, please, please kiss me.
