First person

Okay, so sorry for missing yesterday. Apologies all over the place.

That said, let's get to the point. An update:

I haven't written all that much this week, due to growing up and having to do college and all that. Sometimes growing up stinks because you don't always have time to do things you love the most. But, I did get a little smidgen of writing done on Once Upon a Fantasy and, after reading three first person stories in a row and doing an interview with Brenden (last week's post), I've decided that I think I like the story better in first person present. So, starting to revise all 20,000 words...yeah, it's taking a little time. But I'm enjoying it, because I love Annabelle so much better now. And plus, like I said in an earlier post, I realized that I have a whole bunch to add about Lyme that I was starting to think I couldn't do without a rewrite. So...here we go!

What's your favorite POV to write in? Tense? 

And...will you judge and tell me which is better, before I do the whole story this way. :)

New: 

            Sometimes I wish I could disappear.

            Sometimes I wish I could cry without looking like a cowardly idiot.

            Always I wish I didn’t have my life.

            I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach by Dad, something he used to do frequently before he was arrested. I can’t breathe. I may as well have been running a mile, that’s how my voice comes out. “But he wasn’t supposed to be released until—”

            “I know,” Mom interrupts, covering my shaking hands. “They released him early. It shouldn’t be a problem.” She makes an effort to meet my eyes. I refuse to look at her.

            “He hates me.” My voice cracks a bit. I’m not going to cry.

            Mom pats my hands. “It’ll be okay, Annabelle. We’ll stay away from him and he’ll stay away from us. We have a restraining order. The police are protecting us. We’ll be okay.”

            I swallow against my closing throat. “You don’t understand.”

            “You’re perfectly safe, sweetheart.” She stands and grabs her briefcase from the tabletop. “I’m late for work. I’ll see you tonight, don’t worry about this. I love you.” She kisses my cheek and leaves me at the table, completely wrecked.

Original: 

            “Honey...your dad is...has been released from jail.” Mom made an obvious effort to meet Annabelle's eyes.
            Annabelle felt like she'd been punched in the stomach by Dad, something he used to do frequently before he was arrested. She couldn't breathe properly. She may as well have been running for a mile, that’s how her voice came out. “But he wasn’t supposed to be released until-”

            “I know,” she interrupted, setting the phone on the table and covered Annabelle's shaking hands. “They released him early. It shouldn't be a problem,” she said softly. The kitchen light cast shadows on her face.

            She wanted to cry. But she couldn't. Not here. “He hates me.” Her voice cracked a bit. She wasn't going to cry.
            Mom patted her hands. “It'll be okay, sweetheart. We'll stay away from him and he'll stay away from us. We have a restraining order. The police are protecting us. We'll be okay.”
            Annabelle swallowed against her closing throat. “You don't understand.”
            “You're perfectly safe, Annabelle.” She stood and grabbed her briefcase from the tabletop. “I'm late for work. I'll see you tonight. Don't worry about this. I love you.” She kissed Annabelle's cheek and left her at the table, feeling shell-shocked.