Hello, Elmer

I’m paying my first novel a visit.  It’s been a while.  Since I’m in the process of switching over everything (website, social media, etc.) from Kate Leibfried to Kate Bitters, that includes my first book.  I could easily upload the same manuscript to CreateSpace and carry on, but when you open the new book you’ll see this on the inside cover:

Second Edition.
Copyright 2012 by Kate Bitters.

Second Edition.  Those are big words.  It implies that there is something different, new, and improved about this book.  Some sort of enhancement.

I decided to live up to those big words and give my first novel a second sweep (really, it’s more like an eighth sweep, but who’s counting?).  So, here I go.  I’ve read and edited 87 pages since yesterday, precisely 400 more pages to go!

Fortunately, I’m falling in love with Elmer all over again.  This poor, lost man actually made me tear-up a little last night when I was reading about how his Papa treated him when he was a child.  When a fictional character that you’ve invented makes you cry, you know they’ve taken on a life of their own.

So, it is with a happy heart that I revisit Elmer.  If you’d like, read the following excerpt and pay him a visit as well.  I’m sure he’d appreciate it.

(From Chapter 12)

Rain fell on City A.  It drizzled lightly, pitter-pattering delicately on lawns and the tops of leaves, skipping off rooftops and sliding down the backs of passersby.  Elmer watched it wearily from his window.  Even after his second cup of coffee, he was still feeling groggy from his rollercoaster dreams.  His head spun; his stomach gurgled with nausea.  He was hungover from a wild night of sleep.
The tired old man stared at the streets below.  Now that it was daytime, the incidents from the night before seemed distant and farfetched.  The whirl of colors, the seven seated gurus, the deep, friendly voice—it was all fluff and pixie dust.  It was the creation of a sleepy old man who had had a very long day.  And yet…
Stop—stop—stop
The voice still called out to Elmer.  Elmer squashed it down.  It promptly rose up again.
Stop—stop—stop.  Elmer shoved his fingers into his ears.
Good riddance.  Stop?  Stop running away, you say?  I’m not running.  I’m just…lost.   
Elmer thought of the trumpeter in the park.  I didn’t run from him.  Not really.  I just didn’t accept his invitation.  How is a scruffy musician supposed to help me dig myself out anyway? 

The rain continued to dampen the earth and concrete of City A.  Elmer watched it and the people below, bustling around in orthopedic shoes and raincoats.  He loved orthopedic shoes.  At two in the afternoon, the rain let up and Elmer decided to venture outside.  He velcroed his sneakers, slung his black duffle bag over his shoulder, and marched out the door, his cane click-clacking at his side.  He shuffled down wet sidewalks, avoiding worms that had risen up from the dirt in order to save themselves from drowning.  Someone once told him that robins are expert worm-catchers because they trick them into believing it is raining.  They pinpoint the location of a worm and start pecking the ground at random intervals, imitating falling droplets.  The worm crawls out of the soil and—SNAP—into the robin’s jaws.  “Poor worms,” Elmer thought, realizing he never felt sorry for them before.  All they want in life is to be safe.  All they try to do is survive.

For more information about Elmer Left. visit www.elmerleft.com
For more blog excerpts click Here or Here.

Author: KateBitters

Kate Bitters is a Minneapolis-based author and freelance writer. She is the author of Elmer Left, Ten Thousand Lines, and He Found Me. One of her proudest/nerdiest moments was when Neil Gaiman read one of her short stories on stage at the Fitzgerald Theater.

2 thoughts on “Hello, Elmer”

  2. I wasn't so worried about being shunned! But I did wonder about my characters coming to life. I imagined bumping into them on the street sometime–the creations that sprang from my brain. I wonder what kind of conversation we would all have?

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