Healer, heal thyself.

OK, so a really daft idea: I'm taking 3 medium/short stories and gonna publish them as a package. So here's me taking stuff I wrote back in 1995 - and giving it a right good kick up the jacksie. It was a typical prologue - all internal monologue - kinda setting the scene and introducing the main characters.

I'm not gonna add comments, but the second version shows what I mean by an injection of "voice". You may think there is a fair bit in the first, but Tina's internal snark is not even in 2nd gear (you gotta drive a stick shift to get that one).
===========================================================
‘Rats!’ That was the third time I’d smudged mascara onto the eye-shadow. Well this time it would have to stay. Nobody would notice me anyway, not with Chloë’s silly hat drawing all the attention. I frowned at the blusher - the bronze tint was supposed to complement my brown eyes - and brushed it in the hollow of my cheekbones. Gazing in the mirror, I reflected on my childhood friend’s “last night of freedom” - what an outdated idea that was. “Hen night” wasn’t much better. It conjured up images of brightly dressed females clucking their concern over the poor little chick about to fly the roost. Except this little chick has no idea what she is letting herself in for when she gets married next week.

My attention was drawn to the array of photographs of us dotted around the mirror. What a contrast. At nine years old you could tell just by looking that she was a pretty, obedient child - butter never even got vaguely warm - but me? - the scowl on my face said it all. The shortest of mini-skirts, hideous false-eyelashes and tight, scoop-necked top in the photo next were evidence of a boy-obsessed puberty. She would be thankful there was no record of her late teens, spent in a wilderness where her personality and looks deteriorated as she desperately tried to please the love of her life, Justin. Of course it was all to no avail, his possessive jealousy gradually turned her into a frumpy mouse, afraid of her own shadow. Poor Chloë, she had really been through the mill. Now she’d come full circle, back to a slim, attractive young woman, whose self-assurance was growing daily.

Picking up the lipstick, I smiled, remembering her recent pleasure at mastering ice-skating. Justin had been working one Saturday, so she came to the nearby rink with me and a gang of friends. She soon forgot her embarrassment at being large and took to it like a duck to water. By the end of the session she was as good as any of us and I was pleased to see the way she fitted in. You wouldn’t think it was the same girl who dubbed us “the grammar school crowd”. There was just no stopping her then - one of the local show-offs noticed her, and after only ten minutes tuition, had her skating backwards fairly well. She went home elated and radiant, but as she worked most Saturdays, she only managed to come with us once more in the ensuing months.

I shook my head and began to outline my lips. If only Linda were here to talk it through with, but we were meeting her later in town. Yeah, Lin would get straight to the bottom of it all right, she’s so laid-back and she could be objective about things. I tried talking it over with Danny, but he’s much too close and anyway, he would never see anything clearly where Justin is concerned. I suppose he could be right, that we should let them get on with it, but I have good reason to doubt Justin’s suitability as a life-long partner. ===========================================================
And here's the second version with a real souped-up voice injection (look carefully - it's not just about putting things in italics, although a heck of a lot of that goes on):
===========================================================
‘Rats!’ That was the third time I’d smudged mascara onto the eye-shadow. Well this time it would have to stay. Nobody would notice me anyway, not with Chloë’s silly hat drawing all the attention. Sucking my cheeks in, I brushed bronze-tinted blusher into the hollow. Someone who knew about this stuff said it would complement my brown eyes and make my face look thinner. Fat chance! Gazing in the mirror, I reflected on my childhood friend’s “last night of freedom” – what an archaic idea that was. “Hen night” wasn’t much better – a bunch of brightly dressed females clucking over the poor little chick about to fly the roost. Except this little chick had no idea what she was letting herself in for. 

A photo slotted in the mirror frame caught my eye - it was the pair of us aged nine. What a contrast. You could tell just by looking that she was a sweet, obedient child – butter never even got vaguely warm. But me? The scowl on my face said it all. The next photo was evidence of her desperate, boy-obsessed puberty: the shortest of mini-skirts, hideous false-eyelashes and a tight, scoop-necked top. There was no record of her late teens; different schools meant we had grown apart. Her personality and looks deteriorated as she frantically tried to please the love of her life, Justin. It was all to no avail, his possessive jealousy turned her into a frumpy mouse, afraid of her own shadow. Poor Chloë, she had really been through the mill. Now she’d come full circle, back to a slim, attractive young woman, whose self-assurance was growing daily. 

Picking up the lipstick, I smiled at the picture of her with a gang of my friends at the local skating rink. Reluctant to mix with “the grammar school crowd,” she soon forgot her embarrassment at being large and took to it like a duck to water. Not that she looked like a duck or anything. Waddle, she did not. By the end of the session she was as good as any of us and I was pleased with how she fitted in. There was just no stopping her the next time – one of the local show-offs noticed her and by the end of the session, had her skating backwards like a professional. A different girl went home: elated, radiant and bubbling with confidence. 

I shook my head and began to outline my lips. If only Lin were here to talk it through with, but we were meeting her later in town. Her bubbly personality shone out of the next picture, a cuddly, street-wise girl with a wicked sense of humour. Yeah, Lin would get straight to the bottom of it all right. She was laid-back and could be objective about things. Unlike my boyfriend. My skin heated up at the picture of him looking rugby-player rugged in an Arran sweater, leaning against a Mirror dinghy with the classic red sail. Don’t get me wrong, Danny’s incredibly sensitive and well-balanced. For a bloke. But last time I tried talking it over with him, he blew a fuse. I get it, he’s much too close to the situation and anyway, he would never see anything clearly where Justin is concerned. I suppose he could be right, we should let them get on with it, but knowing what I know, there is way more than good reason to doubt Justin’s suitability as a life-long partner. ===========================================================

Ok, reading it through now, I realise that there is way too much plot detail in there for a realistic prologue, but as an exercise in voice injection, it's a doozy. What do you think?