Pressing Your Luck

For this week, I posed a writing challenge: “Rewrite a scene from one of your works from a different person’s point of view.” 

When I suggested this, I thought it would be a fun exercise, because I think it’s interesting to see how different people can view the same situation. But finding a short scene to rewrite proved to be more difficult than I expected, because I normally write my stories to show at least two points of view – the hero and the heroine, using romance terms, or the male and female protagonists. I finally hit upon the idea of writing a scene from a secondary character’s point of view. This person doesn’t have as much at stake, but is more of an observer who helps to move the story forward. 

Searching for Lady Luck was originally written in 2014 and published by Eskape Press. Six years later it was released with a new ending by Dingbat Publishing. The story is set during the later years of the Great Depression in America, and the heroine, Rose Sheffield, is preparing to open a new art gallery in what was formerly her family’s vacation home in Wildwood, New Jersey. Charlie Brannigan, the hero, is a renowned NYC artist who’s returned to Wildwood to help his family, and Rose’s idea for a gallery comes about when Charlie’s makeshift shop on the boardwalk is rained out.

Connor Brannigan is Charlie’s younger brother. He’s in his early twenties, and somewhat of a flirt. Connor hasn’t yet found his place in life. He keeps busy doing odd jobs, delivering the newspaper and groceries, and helping out wherever he can. In Searching for Lady Luck, Connor has a flirtatious interaction with Rose as she’s preparing to greet guests at the grand opening of her new art gallery. The original scene is written from Rose’s point of view, as she’s worried about the success of her business venture. I thought it might be interesting to look at the scene from inside Connor’s head for a bit.

Here is the original version of the scene, from Rose’s point of view:

“Relax, Miss Sheffield. Everything will work out just fine.”

Connor Brannigan stood before her, a champagne flute in each hand. He held one out to her, but she shook her head. She needed to be on her toes, and champagne wouldn’t help. The young man shrugged, and set one of the glasses down. “Looks like you’re going to have a nice turnout.”

“Perhaps. But right now most of the crowd seems to be locals, and a few who vacation here. I was hoping to attract some new visitors.”

“You seem really worried about this evening.”

Rose sighed. “I am worried. I’ve got a lot riding on this. If it doesn’t succeed, it’ll be bad news not only for the gallery but so many other people who have taken a chance on this.”

“It will be just fine. Look, here are some distinguished patrons now.” He gestured with his wine glass at the elderly couple coming through the door. Rose’s jaw dropped when she recognized them.

“Uncle Rodney? Aunt Hermione?” She hurried over to greet them. “What a delightful surprise. Welcome to the new Sheffield Gallery.”

And here is the same scene, from Connor’s point of view:

Connor had harbored more than a few doubts about the success of opening an art gallery in Wildwood, but for his brother’s sake he’d pitched in to help get the place ready. Now, as he stepped across the polished floor of what had once been a formal dining room, he marveled at the transformation. His brother’s paintings lined the walls, set off in extravagant frames Rose had found in her attic. The handiwork of several locals was tastefully displayed as well. There was no denying that Rose Sheffield knew how to pull off a grand opening with class.

What kind of relationship did she have with Charlie? Was it more than just business? She didn’t have the movie star kind of beauty featured in the magazines, but she wasn’t unpleasant to look at, either. Charlie hadn’t seemed to show an interest in her other than to insist she brought him good luck. Maybe there was a chance she’d be interested in someone a bit younger.

He found Rose pacing in the foyer. She needed something to calm her down. Spying a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes, he plucked two of the glasses and approached her.

”Relax, Miss Sheffield. Everything will work out just fine.”

She peered up at him with a weak smile. He held out one of the flutes to her, but she shook her head. Apparently, she wanted to keep her mind clear. He shrugged and set the extra glass down, glancing at the growing crowd. “Looks like you’re going to have a nice turnout.”

“Perhaps,” she replied. “But right now most of the crowd seems to be locals, and a few who vacation here. I was hoping to attract some new visitors.”

“You seem really worried about this evening.”

Rose sighed. “I am worried. I’ve got a lot riding on this. If it doesn’t succeed, it’ll be bad news not only for the gallery but so many other people who have taken a chance on this.”

She’d put a lot of thought into this opening. Apparently there was much more to Miss Sheffield than just a pretty face. An elderly couple entered through the front door. The woman was wrapped in a full-length fur coat, and the man’s suit was obviously tailor-made. Just the kind of people Rose was hoping to attract.  “It will be just fine,” he assured her again. “Look, here are some distinguished patrons now.” He gestured with his wine glass at the couple. Rose turned to look and her jaw dropped.

“Uncle Rodney? Aunt Hermione?” She hurried over to greet them. “What a delightful surprise. Welcome to the new Sheffield Gallery.”

Connor backed away. If Rose had relatives like these two, she was way out of his league.

Which version do you like better?