Writer in Motion: Unedited First Draft

And here we are, with an unedited first draft. I let the prompt image hang out in my head overnight, struggling to figure out an angle. My husband told me to stop worrying because I’d come up with something. I jotted note after note, but nothing really amounted to anything.

And then, while eating breakfast, I thought about the pros and cons of omelets as a meal (Pros: protein-packed and super versatile. Con: NOT a waffle.) Then I wondered about other pros and cons. What if two people were stuck in an impossible situation, trying to make the best out of no good options. Isolated (like the concrete building and setting from the photo) but the right choice could mean something amazing (like that sky and mountainscape??). And, so, these characters emerged.

So, here’s the very first draft. I sat and wrote, without editing or planning ahead. Pantsed it in true me-fashion. Oh, and it’s nowhere near my usual genre. No swords. No dragons. No magic. What’s going on here? 😂

It was supposed to be an easy job.

Get in, get the goods, deliver, done. One final gig before my well-deserved retirement. The last hurrah, a job to get the life out of my system before moving on to something…different. Maybe a security guard at a museum in London. London jobs were always the best jobs. Or Paris. Crepes and coffee instead of firearms and felonies. A life I could discuss. No more secrets.

The client failed to mention a few key details.

One, the ‘goods’ were a person. Two, the person was my partner.

I refused to make another pro/con list. If I made a list, it meant he was at least partially right. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Sure, we run, that’s obvious. But, together, or…? Damn him. Damn them. Damn this whole situation. We were so close. Another job, and we’d be free. But we forgot: Nobody leaves The Life. How does it go again, ‘The Life before my life?’

A prickle rippled across my skin. He was eyeing me again from across the campfire. Feeding twigs into it, watching the pieces crackle and disappear into nothingness. Poof, gone, invisible. If only it were that easy.

“They’re going to be watching. We can’t move without being apprehended.”

“I’d like to see them try.” I scraped my knife along the bark of the stick I’d been fiddling with. Nervous energy had to go somewhere. Why not destruction?

“Take it easy. We don’t make it out by making rash choices.”

“No, the only way out is in a body bag.” I stabbed my stick into the coals and examined his expression through a thousand dancing sparks. Staying in the game was its own kind of death. One year turned to five, turned to eight, turned nine, ten. Then, here we are, living only as the organization wills it, pitting us against each other. Kill or be killed. They picked the wrong duo to pull that trick. We may never have liked each other, but we were both honorable. As honorable as one can be in this line of work, anyway. But a partnership, that’s a sacred thing.

“Trying to run is better than staying in and never knowing.”

“The way I see it, we either end up dead or miserable. And you know I’m too much of a sadist to choose dead.”

“So, what’s your plan?” He stared me down, an attempt to break through my tough exterior to the even tougher soul beneath. He wouldn’t find anything there worth saving.

“You run. I cover for you. Maybe a few broken bones could earn me favor. What’s another ten years?”

“The rest of your like, in a gig like this.”

He wasn’t wrong. There was a 99-percent chance my life would be over in a few hours anyway.

“So, what? Fake names, fake passports? On the run, always looking over our shoulders, never letting our guards down I give it six months—if that—before they find us or we crack.”

Crackling pine needles and rustling leaves, a warm summer breeze. Like that night out with dad, that final camping trip before he disappeared. When they recruited me, I learned the truth: He was part of the organization, killed on a mission. Fate or coincidence, who can tell anymore?

The silence curled through the camp, a stalking cobra waiting to strike. This could be the final eight ours. Morning would bring th team, and the retirement. At least they didn’t ask me to do the job myself. Just distract him enough so they can put the bullet in his head.

Joke’s on me, though, because his assignment was the carbon copy. Can’t have the two best players take the playbook to the opposing team—or the authorities. Did loyalty mean nothing anymore?

“I have a plan,” he said. “But, you’ll have to trust me. Quite literally, with your life.” He stared me down, eyes hard as ore in their sunken sockets. Trust him with my life. I’m fairly sure my life was already in his hands. I refused to budge.

“Okay, then. Pro,” he hefted a hand up, one finger raised to the sky, “if I pull this off, you’ll finally believe me when I say I can plan ahead.” He raised a finger on the opposite hand. “Con, we could both die.”

“Pro, you getting caught would mean you’re finally off my back.”

“Definitely a con.”

“Not from where I’m sitting.” I allowed a sarcastic smile. It would be hard to play the part of ‘irritable, tough-ass’ with something like feelings sneaking through.

“Con you’d probably have to break my nose to make it believable.”

“Pro, I’d enjoy finally getting a chance to punch you.”

He tossed his stick into the fire, a chuckle mingling with the sound of firewood shifting.

“Pro. I have a place we can disappear. A hundred percent off the grid, untraceable. Con, you’ve never trusted me enough to believe I want to save you.”

It’s not that I didn’t trust him. But…

“In this line of work, your only friend is yourself. Trust anyone, get killed.” I spread my hands, inviting him to take in the scene. “Exhibit A. How do I know you’re not actually planning to double-cross me?”

“I’ll turn myself over now if that’s what it takes to convince you. We may not like each other, but we both did our time. We both deserve out, and I’m tired of doing their dirty work. Maybe we learn to like each other, maybe we kill each other anyway a year from now. But, maybe, just maybe this is an opportunity to make a life worth something. And, either we do it together or I give in now and take the bullet because I’m done and I won’t be the bad guy anymore.”

I stared past the rising smoke toward the opening the ground team would come through. Just a few hours left to make the move. I wanted out, with or without this insufferable jackass.

“Okay, tell me your plan so I can tell you how it will fail, then counter with a better option.”