Deleted scenes

A version of Between the Pipes was the very first story I ever wrote. It’s come a long way since then! It’s good to know I’m growing as a writer. 😀 When I changed it from She’s Not a Fan to Between the Pipes, some of the scenes were deleted. Sometimes it was because the story-line changed a bit so I couldn’t use them, sometimes it was because there was a lot of Sarah’s job in the first version and the editor (gently) suggested it didn’t further the love story. Here are 3 deleted scenes from the first version:

In this scene, Sarah was invited over to Mike’s house for dinner.

The music shifted tempo and Mike stepped back. “Let’s sit outside. We can watch the stars come out,” Mike said. He grabbed a blanket and led her outside. Large patio stones curved around in a walkway leading to a sitting area close to the water. Two chairs and a comfortable lounger circled a copper fire pit. Mike reached over, lit the logs in the fire pit, and a small fire roared to life. Tugging her down, Mike stretched out on the lounger and nestled her to his side. With his arms around her, he tucked the blanket in close.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

She almost laughed. Her blood was singing through her veins. He was so hot and sexy, she didn’t need the blanket or the fire. “Yeah, I’m perfect,” she said, thinking it was the biggest understatement. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Relax.

The clouds had cleared and the night sky was glittering with stars. The moon was almost full and reflected off the water. As the fire crackled, the waves lapped gently against the shore in a quiet rhythm. A bat swooped down over the river. She relaxed her head on Mike’s shoulder and heard the steady slow rhythm of his heart. Good thing he wasn’t listening to hers.

They chatted easily as they listened to the night sounds. She sighed, knowing that she had to broach how she felt about hockey.

In this scene, Sarah has realized that is would never work between her and Mike and she’s working hard to try to get over him.

Regrets about Mike were easier to set aside when she was involved with patients or immersed in work. It was tougher at night when she was alone.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what could have been. She missed Mike, his easy smile, and the interest in his eyes directed at her. She wanted to be held in his arms and kissed until she was breathless. Regret circled in an endless loop in her head. It was driving her crazy.

Time to focus on something else.

Cleaning had always helped in the past, so she vacuumed and polished and cleaned out her closets. She sorted through clothes, put away her summer wardrobe, and pulled out sweaters and jackets for the winter. Her closet was more organized than ever before, but she didn’t feel any better.

Exercise? She joined a yoga class at the local gym. All that stretching and bending – poses she had never seen or heard of like downward dog, dolphin plank, cow face, and wild thing. Turned out, she wasn’t a wild thing. No surprise there. It took concentration and flexibility, and apparently, she had neither. It did help to distract her temporarily, which was good, until the meditation began. To summarize, the goal was to stop thinking about what would be bad for her…Mike. And instead focus on what would be good for her…still Mike. Ugh. She needed to focus a little less, so she cleaned some more.

She scrubbed her tub and washed the walls. She unclogged the drains and soaked her showerhead until the water pressure forced her back out of the stream.

She pulled out her favourite books and went to the library to find a few more. Light-hearted ones failed to make her laugh. Mike became the handsome hero in every romance novel, and she had to set them aside. She tried heavier classics with hidden meaning and subtle metaphors but couldn’t concentrate enough to figure out what they were. In the end, she returned all the books to the library and resigned herself to more cleaning.

Setting tables was a hobby of hers, so most of her kitchen cabinets were filled with dishes, rather than food. It came in handy when she needed something to do. There were plenty of shelves to dust and dishes to organize. She stacked her chargers and sorted them by colour with all the matching plates and bowls. She burned a lot of “let’s try to forget Mike” energy cleaning and sorting through glassware. It sparkled and shone, but in the end, it only made the reflection of her unhappy face that much clearer.

It was time to pull out the big guns – chocolate.

Hadn’t research shown that dark chocolate was as good as sex for making you feel good? She was sure she’d read that somewhere.

Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, she tried them all. It was tasty, but it didn’t settle her cravings. She’d still rather have sex. With Mike.

This is one of the work scenes that was chopped.

Sarah met up with the Mobile Clinic at the downtown location and arrived to a waiting room full of patients.

She ushered in a young woman named Kelsey Deville. Her hair, dyed a brilliant purple, was pulled back into two ponytails. A blue bomber jacket didn’t quite meet the top of her loose cotton pants, and the waistband was rolled down to reveal the silver stud in her belly button. She came in with the problem of constipation.

Sarah went over the usual advice about staying well hydrated and increasing the fibre in her diet.

“So, let me get this straight,” Kelsey said, popping a bubble with her chewing gum. “You want me to eat more fibre in my diet and make my sh–,” – she cleared her throat – “my uh, poop bigger. Because bigger poop, is easier to pass than a pencil-thin small one.” She looked skeptical. “Are you sure about that?”

Sarah tried not to laugh. Kelsey actually had a good point. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s better for your bowels if your poop, or stool, is bigger. The best way to get bigger stools is to eat more fruit and vegetables. As little as one prune a day can make a big difference, or you could try to have whole wheat bread instead of white bread. Could you do that?”

“Sure, sure. I can try.”