Most of those dead ends were captured on paper. I've got a couple old notebooks full of stuff, because I'd write everything out longhand, either on the train, or at home, or even (sorry again, Floor Focus) during down times at the magazine where I worked at the time. When I had a chance, I would transcribe everything on the computer. Usually what made it on to the computer was edited and changed within the same document, so I only had the final version.
Or so I thought. Turns out, I've got a couple early versions kicking around on my hard drive. I'd totally forgotten about them. So, imagine my surprise when I opened one to find that it contained a totally different opening daydream scene than what made it into the book! The final version of chapter one is actually the first three chapters I'd originally written, edited down into one. I posted the first part of it a while back.
In this version, the dream has a totally different theme than the final one--one of those dead ends that I'd run into. But I'd totally forgotten I'd written it. It's like it came from an alternate universe or something!
So, I thought that maybe it would be fun to share the alternate beginning with you. The general idea is the same, but it's a totally different dream! Eric's name was originally Christian, after my son--that I remember! Check it out.
THE DELIVERERS
CHAPTER 1
A Strange Meeting
He strode through the dense underbrush, hacking his way through with a machete. As he led his party deeper into the virgin Brazilian rainforest, Christian Scott chafed that he did not have a firmer idea of what lay ahead. Lush foliage surrounded and covered the explorers. Trees hung over them, hiding the blue sky above and blocking out all but a dim, greenish light, while monkeys chattered and exotic bird calls filled the air. The explorers’ shirts, dripping with sweat, clung to their backs. Christian made a decision. He stopped and turned to address the small party of five adventurers.
“We can’t go any further without some idea of what we’re heading into,” he said. “I’m gonna go up to take a look.”
He went to the nearest tree, a large Brazilian walnut, and climbed up, up, up to the top, scraping his hands and shins on the scaly bark. From this vantage point, it appeared that the jungle was neverending—running unbroken up into mist covered mountains ahead. Wait, what was that? Christian squinted from his perch among the leaves. It appeared to be a plume of smoke not too far ahead of them and over to the right, rising and mingling with the steamy mist. He remembered his binoculars hanging around his neck and raised them to his eyes.
Yes, there was no doubt, it was definitely smoke. It came from a clearing, which was ringed with thatched huts. In the center, a huge bonfire burned. Dancing around the fire were many natives carrying spears and bows. They were naked to the waist and their bronze skin was painted in multicolored designs. That looked like trouble. What should they do?
