Howdy,
Another check in on our Jake Jones story: a revision, from “Chapter Four,” as currently constructed.
Here’s just a small piece:
Young and active and ready to play, preferring to “work” on his game, Jake sought to stay far from the shop. Naturally as wildlife flees when spooked, Jake thought park and court and away from stacking changed-out tires. Dad and Grandpa were always greased up but slow-moving. Jake thought of something greased as slippery quick, like a freshly waxed snowboard on a steep hill. But that wasn’t his pops or gramps. Slippery quick, no sir. Neither one of them. And it wasn’t just being old; they were strong — Jake admired their strength — but not fast. They didn’t speed home or get there early.
So the basketball court was the target, was Jake’s destination. He just liked being there so much that he was never even overly bothered if others beat him to it. Sometimes he’d try to get in on a game, but, being small for his age — and super small for public pick-ups — was often overlooked, left a shadow on the sidelines. Being no phantom of quickness to defend on the court, Jake was rather easily relegated to sideline specter.
(Note: The story’s still a work in progress, but that’s a little of what I’ve been doing. Also, note-to-self, story not duplicated in word count goal.)
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
Word Count: 62,229 / On Pace: 64,350 / Year’s Goal: 200,000
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