Not all scenes make it into movies. Some end up on the cutting room floor. There are lots of reasons for a piece of work to not make the final draft, the two biggest being a lack of space and a change of direction for the story.
The same is true for novels. For all you Captive Heart fans out there, here is a deleted scene that didn't make it into the final draft. . .
Grace babbled on and
on about Biz. So far it’d been a losing battle to get her to add Miss in front
of Biz’s name. Eleanor sighed, then smiled when Grace twisted and patted her
cheek with her chubby little fingers. “Home, mama!”
She grinned back. “Yes, Grace. We
are soon to home.”
Grace bounced, whipping her head
from one side to the other and bumping into her father.
“Whoa now,” Samuel reached out his
arm and stilled her. “You’re wild as a ’coon cub on a full moon.”
For a moment Grace stilled, then
pushed up from Eleanor’s skirts and howled out a word that would make a sailor
Eleanor’s jaw dropped. Samuel’s face
jerked to hers. Were her eyes as wide as his? Apparently Grace had spent more
time with Biz than with the reverend.
Eleanor grabbed hold of the girl’s
shoulders and turned her on her lap, drawing her face to face. What to do?
Overreacting would make this naught but a game. Still, ignoring the outburst
would surely condone it.
Drawing from years of governess
experience, she held up her hand, fingers curled as if she held a great
treasure. “Grace, would you like to see what I have?”
Grace nodded, eyes fixed on her
hand. Even Samuel gazed, a curious tilt to his head.
“I hold a word that’s even better
than the one you just used. Would you like to trade for it?”
The girl’s nose scrunched up, but
slowly she nodded.
“Very well.” Eleanor opened her
other hand, palm flat. “But you must give up the other one first. Put it here.”
“What on earth—”
She shushed Samuel before he broke
Grace’s concentration. “Go on, Grace, take that word from your mouth and I
shall cast it away so you’ll have room for the other.” She shoved her open palm
With solemn movement, Grace lifted
her forefinger and thumb to her lips, then pretend plucked the vile word from
her lips and gently dropped it onto Eleanor’s hand.
“Good girl.” She closed her fist
over the curse and mimicked throwing it into the dark woods. Then she opened up
her other hand and offered a new word. “Here is your new word. Instead you
shall say . . .” She waited until the girl’s eyes fixed on her lips,
anticipation shining like a bright star.
“Oogdoogle!” Eleanor tickled the
child until she shrieked. Samuel chuckled along with her. And by the time the
laughter faded, Samuel pulled the wagon into the yard.
So there's your bonus feature, only for my buddies here at Writer Off the Leash. And here's one more bonus . . . sign up to win a signed copy of THE CAPTIVE HEART.
I hear voices. Loud. Incessant. And very real. Which basically gives me
two options: choke back massive amounts of Prozac or write fiction. I chose the
latter. Way cheaper. I've been writing since I discovered blank wall space and
Crayolas. I seek to glorify God in all that I write...except for that graffiti
phase I went through as a teenager. Oops. Did I say that out loud?