So time has gone by- I’ve been busy editing the first book in my series and getting it ready for *yip* publication. Now that the manuscript is back in the hands of my lovely publisher I’ve had some time to work on my next book, and I must say… it’s been fun.
I’ve noticed I can tend towards the silly side in my writing- which is probably perfect for fifteen-year-old boys (my ideal audience) but I had to sit back today and wonder if I’ve just overdone it… take this little beauty I wrote this morning:
In the movies, goblins always wore rags and loincloths, or dark wicked-looking armour. This one wore a pair of jeans, a stained yellow t-shirt and a puffy hunting vest.
In the dim light, from far away, she guessed the goblins could have slipped into town to light the fires and possibly go unnoticed. Up close however, it was hard to miss the rusted machete hanging from the goblin’s belt–or the smell.
The odour was like rotten blood and stale musk. Moreanna couldn’t help but remember the leaky infection she’d seen on the back of a stray dog, or the mold-slimed pizza she’d had to pull out of a garbage can. The goblin smelled worse than both of them put together. Moreanna buried her nose deep into her arm and held her breath as the goblin drew nearer.
To her horror, it stopped right in front of her. Moreanna began to squirm. She risked a small breath and choked. She pressed her lips tightly together, ignoring her lungs’ demand for oxygen. The goblin slid the machete back into his belt and lifted a leg partly off the ground.
Moreanna, on the verge of passing out, pinched her nose and opened her mouth for a desperate breath.
The goblin farted.
She gagged and toppled over. Choking, she scrambled backwards, sliding deeper into the ditch. She wanted to tear her tongue out. She’d swallowed a lungful of goblin fart and nothing could ever remove the taint of it from her mouth. She could never kiss a boy again.
So what do you think? Should I keep it?