Under the Microscope extra: Harmony

Read our suggested rewrite of a reader's first 300 words and for the full critique, see the March issue of Writing Magazine.

Draft novel by Zoe Allard - original version

Harmony gasped as she woke suddenly in a sweat. She forced herself upwards and panted heavily, her chest had tightened, like all her breath was suddenly right at the surface but it couldn’t quite release. She reached for the glass of water beside her bed and gulped down a few sips in a haste. That was a close one. If she would have woke herself up any later then who knows how she would have been, or how she might have woken up. It was the one disadvantage she always had with Lucid dreaming, never quite knowing when things were dreams or reality, and testing the waters way too much.

It had been a whole year since Harmony experienced her first Lucid dream; she originally did it because she didn’t believe it was real. But now it was a regular habit. She enjoyed the challenge, the anxiety rush of engaging in this not-so-real subconscious world. She could be a different person in those dreams, and she liked that. She slowly made her way to the bathroom to sort herself out, her long dark hair had got stuck to her neck in the heat, so she needed to adjust herself. She cupped her hands under the cold water from the tap and splattered her face a few times before proceeding to tie her hair back with an elastic band. She sighed as she took one long engaged glance at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hazel eyes staring back at her all blood shot and red.

“You have got to slow down on this” she sighed, as she shook her head at her reflection. This was a common routine though; Harmony had got to the point where she had lost count of how many rows she had with herself over this. 

McCredited version

Harmony woke suddenly with a gasp. She was sweating. She forced herself up the bed to lean against the headboard, panting as she struggled to breathe. The air seemed trapped in her lungs, unable to move in or out. She reached for the glass of water beside her bed and gulped two mouthfuls, finally exhaling with relief. That was a close one. If she’d woken herself up any later, it could have been much worse. She was still finding the limits of lucid dreaming – still pushing herself and the possibilities.

It had been a whole year since her first lucid dream. She’d originally tried it because she didn’t believe it was real. Now it was a habit. She enjoyed the challenge, the anxiety rush of engaging in this not-quite-real subconscious world. She could be a different person in those dreams and she liked that.

She went to the bathroom. Her long, dark hair had got stuck to her neck in the heat and she needed to freshen herself up. She cupped her hands under the cold tap water and splashed her face a few times before tying her hair back with an elastic band. She sighed as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hazel eyes stared back at her all bloodshot and red.

“You have got to slow down on this,” she said, shaking her head at her reflection. This was a common routine though. Harmony had got to the point where she had lost count of how many times she’d faced herself like this, wet-faced and wild-haired, in the mirror.

For the full critique, see the March issue of Writing Magazine