Killing your darlings - read a chapter getting the boot from A White Room

They call it killing your darlings - as a writer, you have to sometimes cut or change things that you absolutely loved but that ultimately didn't add to the story. It's sad. If you've been following me on Twitter @CarrollBooks or on Facebook at Stephanie Carroll's Books, you know I've been cutting my manuscript down from 115,000 words to 100,000 words. I finally reached my goal last night at about 10 p.m. The process required some cut throat editing and I had to get rid of some of my gems. The following chapter has been removed from the manuscript, but I still love it so much I wanted to share it with you. Don't worry there aren't any spoilers.

Dana Gibson's classic Gibson Girl

To catch you up, this chapter was going to take place the night after my main character Emeline Dorr completely humiliates herself and her husband in front of some of his most important colleagues. She's married a man she doesn't love, has moved to a place where she knows no one, and she is trying to cope with her misery. 

Enjoy, or hate it, because I cut it, so it's cool. 

Chapter 

I couldn’t sleep. As soon as I heard John’s breath rumble, I slipped out of the bed careful not to wake him. I paced, dwelling on how much I missed St. Louis, how much I longed for my family, the incident with Ida, and my growing loneliness. I had an intense desire to escape the house, even if it were only for a few minutes. I needed to feel free from its walls. It was late, not a suitable time for a walk. I hovered at the window gazing at the ground, a bluish gray, luminescent with moonlight. It was chilly, but not too bad. Outside, I spotted the old shed to the side of the house, white from the light. I knew if I could glow in the moonlight all the pain would dissipate, and I could be free for a while.

My chamber flickered with speckled light from a small candle I lit and strategically placed behind an open book so it wouldn’t wake John. I turned toward the bed. I eyed him. I wish we loved each other, but it was more and more clear with each day—there was no love or affection between us. I wished I could make him love me or make myself love him. Even if only one of us could love the other, that would be enough. I felt if he could only love me, I could learn to love him, but he didn’t love me. Why should he? I am nothing more than a disappointment—with my poor family, lack of dowry, and clumsy behavior that led to his humiliation on more than one occasion. I failed in so many ways.

I whirled into my frilly dressing gown and laced it tight with its thick ribbon. I clasped the candle holder and crept toward the door shielding John from the light with my body. I wasn’t concerned with anyone seeing me undressed. No one lived nearby. I opened the door gently, stepped out, and shut it. When I turned around, the dark hallway hit me in the gut. It felt like I wasn’t alone, like I might wake other people sleeping in the empty rooms. I stepped lightly, for fear of disturbing nonexistent beings.

I reached the stairs and peered down into them, like a narrow tunnel, an escort to some deep cavern. My stomach wrenched. This was silly, afraid of stairs. I descended step by step. I tried to move swiftly without making a creek, but when I turned into the middle where I couldn’t see the top or bottom, I grew hot and flustered. I quickened my step until I turned the corner again and felt the cool paneling beneath my bare feet. I hadn’t put any shoes on, hadn’t even considered it until then.

I crept down the hallway and sensed something watching. The chill of the evening returned to me, and I held myself with my free hand. It felt like a consciousness was aware of my presence. I felt it as I passed the parlor even though the door was shut. I turned the corner and saw the flicker of light reflect off the brass doorknobs of the front entrance. Feeling the presence, I stood there doubtful. I wanted to be outside, free from the house and from the marriage, from my life, and yet I stood, frightened, hesitant. I placed the candle holder on the side table next to the receiving trey. I lifted my coat off the rack. I squeezed the doorknob, turned, and pulled.

A cerulean wonderland awaited me outside. Chilled air hit my face. I stepped forward and closed the door 

leaving the candle inside. Once I heard the clack of the door, I was free. I was alone. I glided down the steps onto the groomed lawn. The earth felt damp. Chills skulked up my limbs, but I would not let them deter me. The woods bordered the house, and the moon gleamed off the broad branches creating a halo of blue-green light. Directly in front of me was the drive leading to the road, but it wasn’t visible, and I felt as though I stood within an impenetrable ring. 

I thought of John, asleep in the house unaware of my absence. I thought of the house as though it were sleeping too. The town wasn’t aware. My family in St. Louis had no knowledge of my actions. No one knew where I was or what I was doing at that very moment other than God himself. I was alone. I was free. 

I knew I couldn’t stand outside forever although I wanted to. Fear already began to drive me back toward the door, but I muffled those feelings. I condensed my fear inside me, into a glowing shiny ball of light. There they transformed into something more than fear; they became the wall against it.

An ultimate sensation of tranquility and security enveloped me. I felt as though I were the only being in existence. There was nothing to fear because there was only God. The feeling was eternal; it existed, whether I grasped it or not. I couldn’t cling to it though. I wanted to fully embrace the sensation. I wanted to own freedom, but it was only something I could experience in fleeting moments below the moon.

I heard a rustling nearby and turned my head. I saw movement in the brush. My fear incased in the calming ball of light burst out and rushed back like a wave of needles. My heart pounded against my chest. I took a deep breath. The bushes moved again. My fears, now free, conjured up visions of claws and fangs. Leaves crackled and crunched. I turned but did not run terrified that would only taunt this creature into chasing after me. I fled up the stairs, opened the door, stepped in, and closed it. Conquered. It was as though some beast knew how important feeling free outside was for me, so it chased me back into the white house. Would I ever feel freedom again? Or did I abandon it outside?