How would Fifty Shades sound if written in the style of the melodic Patrick Rothfuss?
Today we find out!
During the last stream, a subscriber requested that we rewrite a scene from one book in the style of another author.
You can watch the video here to or scroll down for highlights.
We had six scenes/authors to choose from, and chat voted that we rewrite the scene from Fifty Shades of Grey where Ana/Grey meet for the first time, but in the style of Patrick Rothfuss, author of the beautifully written The Name of the Wind.
If you’re unfamiliar with either scene/author, then be sure to check out the video before reading!
Here’s what we came up with:
I push open the door, prepared to interview a titan of the business world. As the gates to his domain open, I feel like Perseus, prepared to slay the mighty kraken. My pen is my weapon — my sword — palms sweating against its cold steel not in fear, but in raw anticipation of conquest.
And then I trip onto the floor. The tiled ground greets me with open arms, and I fall unwillingly into its embrace. The iron mask I’d so carefully forged for myself shatters like glass against the hard ground of the coliseum, ending the battle before it had even begun. Gods have mercy on me.
I lay there presenting myself as a feral dog, limbs aching, shaking, inadvertently prostrated before my foe, tangled in a self-woven web of embarrassment and shame.
“Miss Kavanagh.” The voice of the Emperor booms. Would he show pity on this poor college girl fighting for her life: thumbs up or thumbs down? “Are you all right? Would you like to sit?”
He extends a soft olive branch of a hand toward me. A sickening mixture of humility and desperation forces me to clasp it. Breathe in. Breathe out. I try to rekindle an aura of what I hope will resemble confidence.
One look at him and it flickers out. How does one describe the beauty of a god? Chiseled from an obelisk of flawless marble, a hundred master sculptors could toil a hundred years and they would still not reach his perfection. Ares himself in a suit, his grey eyes so dark and shrewd they eclipse the sunlight behind him. I want to sip from the ambrosia of his immortal lips.
“Um. Actually—” I mutter as I regain my footing and he releases my hand. Words feel so meaningless before him. I’d expected a crusty hermit rattling in his money-chains, and I’d been given a celestial body barely older than myself.
I will never understand the cruel humor of the gods.
Dang! If all of Fifty Shades was written like that, it’d probably be my favorite book. It’s not perfect, but with the juicy similes, spicy adjectives, peppering of repetition, and punchy pacing, it does have a Rothfussian air to it.
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Featured image: Flickr/Mike Mozart (Edited by me)