01.28.07
Posted in Writing, Samples, Mallory at 12:00 pm by Bryan
Before we begin, let me clarify a few things. First, Mallory is not taking time away from Sea of Dreams. Gabby is still working on that. One minor change of setting is required, since the potential hotspot (Mogadishu) that I was going to send Ian to has already flared up, and apparently been resolved. I’ll keep the original text in a file just in case the “resolution” is only temporary. Second, if you are waiting on a critique, I’m finally back into some semblance of a normal writing schedule and I should have those to you shortly. I don’t know what happened to me in December and January, but I was definitely a slacker for two months.
So, with no further ado, I present you with Mallory:
This is wrong on so many levels. Rule number one in the Private Investigations for Dummies manual says never, ever, under any circumstances use your client as the decoy, yet here I was sitting in a quiet corner of a smokey tavern in the Caribbean as my client sits down at the bar. I wrote the friggin’ manual. I can’t believe I let her talk me into this.
What I wanted to do was fly in my regular girl. Chloe would have enjoyed a few days out of the dive she worked in. She’s a good kid and I get her legit work as often as I can. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a stripper, but that line of work doesn’t offer you much other than the cash you need to pay your way through law school. At least working with me on investigations gives her some practical experience.
And Chloe was good at the work.
But now I’m watching this dame put herself in danger for the case. Tabitha Renny. At twenty-four, she’s actually older than Chloe, but she’s naive. Tab doesn’t understand that there’s a big chunk of the world that ain’t all nice like the bit she lives in. And that’s why we’re here.
I see her wiggle two fingers at the bartender as she tips her head in invitation.
I’m looking for a boat, she says. Not that I can hear her. But doing what I do, you get pretty proficient at reading lips.
What kind of boat?
It’s a sailboat. It belongs to my parents. It’s called…. Damnit girl, don’t turn away from me when you’re talking. I know you already told me the name of the boat, but I might miss something else.
Never heard of it, says the bartender.
Well, if you do, I’m staying at the Marriot, room 211. She’s slides the bartender a hundred dollar bill. She got his attention alright. And the lie looked believable. She’s registered at the Marriot true enough, but she’s staying with me at a bed and breakfast on the other side of the island. Which brings us to the other level of wrongness here.
I’ve worked with beautiful women before. I’ve worked for beautiful women. But this girl, I can’t get it outta my head. She’s distracting. And worse, she’s young enough to be my daughter and she’s still distracting. So distracting in fact that I almost missed seeing the bartender having a conversation with an unsavory sort at the end of the bar.
When the two of them looked at her, I wanted to step in set things right, but I held my ground. Tab tensed a bit then looked the other direction. She had good instincts. She saw it going down and knew that I had her back so she looked away. Good, kid. You’re doin’ fine.
When the barman came back, she said he could keep the change. She didn’t give him any more money. But if you hear of anything, I’ll come back and buy a few more drinks, she added.
The muscle at the end of the bar stood to leave, so I went out in front of him. I stepped into the shadows as he lingered outside the door and checked around. I saw the knife he held by his thigh and drew my semi-automatic. Tab was through the door, the muscle was moving toward her, and without even thinking about options I was in motion. Tab just caught sight of his knife, her mouth a perfect ‘O’, as I pressed the muzzle of the gun hard into his right temple even as my left arm came around in a choke hold.
He dropped the knife and pissed his pants.
“We need to have a talk,” I whispered in his ear.
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01.24.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:00 pm by Bryan
I’ve joined The Truth Laid Bear Ecosystem. Beginning tomorrow, you should be able to see where this blog stands in the larger picture of blogs by checking the status toward the bottom of the sidebar. Right now, Instapundit is the top blog in the Ecosystem (the top ten blogs are “Higher Beings”).
Political blogs tend to be the top sites. I’d be surprised if I’m more advanced than an “Insignificant Microbe”, but we’ll see.
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01.22.07
Posted in Writing, Method, Sea of Dreams, Current Projects at 8:00 am by Bryan
With an antagonist comes plot.
My eureka moment has forced me to reconsider a few things. First of all, I can’t really continue much further without taking a look at the plot. This is new for me and, truthfully, something that I previously found destructive to the story. And I’m not sure what’s changed.
So here’s the deal:
The basic story line is the same as it was. It’s about the relationship between Ian and Gabby. But now I have an antagonist to keep them apart, and in doing so, puts Ian’s life in danger. So now my story line is more intricate. It requires some planning.
And actually, it requires a question: have I chosen the correct antagonist?
If I continue down this path, the plot may require the pace to be faster, which throws the romance into the realm of whirlwind. I have a backup antagonist who would allow a more leisurly exploration, but I’ve already dumped her from the story once. I’m not sure I want to write her back in.
Questions.
I’m off to seek answers.
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01.19.07
Posted in Writing, Sea of Dreams, Current Projects at 10:50 am by Bryan
As I’ve been virtually attending an online writing workshop hosted by Bob Mayer and Jenny Crusie, I’ve run into a bit of a problem while trying to assimilate this week’s lesson regarding the protagonist and antagonist. You see, I don’t have an antagonist.
When I was in school, the three forms of conflict were Man against Man, Man against Nature, and Man against Himself. The problem is that most people want to read about Man against Man, otherwise it’s too much like Real Life in that events are generally beyond the control of your protagonist. He simply reacts, or in the case of Man against Himself, it’s an internal battle, and it’s very difficult to show an internal battle through action. Internal battles involve thinking, lots and lots of thinking.
So I’ve been stuggling with my story. I have internal battles. Ian does in fact have to change himself in order to be happy and I want to keep that aspect of his journey. The realationship between Ian and Gabby is a battle because they each need to convince themselves and each other that it is okay to love each other; that it’s not a betrayal of Steve’s memory. But aside from the inherent difficulties of changing a relationship from friends to lovers, there is nothing keeping them apart.
Well, last night I had a “Eureka” moment.
I now have an antagonist. I don’t know all the details of the character yet, but I know how he fits into the story. And the cool thing about it is that I’ve set the stage already as early as the first chapter. I don’t even need to change anything.
Kinda makes you want to dance like Grover, doesn’t it?
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01.17.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 2:58 pm by Bryan
I’m going through a non-communicative phase right now. I’m not communicating well with others. I’m not communicating well with myself. In fact what I most want to do is sit in the dark and be alone.
Part of this comes from a migraine I had over the weekend that has resurfaced after I thought it had gone. Part of it is simply being worn out from a long emotional journey, and even though I can actually see my destination now, it still seems so very far away. Trudging. We’ve talked about that before.
I’ve been a rare sight online lately, and truthfully, I don’t mind. I really just want to sit in the dark for a little while.
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01.05.07
Posted in Writing, Samples, Mallory at 9:00 am by Bryan
I had to get up in the middle of the night because Mallory wouldn’t shut up. What follows was finished at 3:37 this morning. I’m not going to edit any mistakes or clean up any plot issues (this isn’t even one of my WIPs for crying out loud) so you get to see what things are like in a raw state.
So, you’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing four miles out at fifteen-hundred feet on final approach to St. Vincent. Yeah, me too. Believe me, the idea of crabbin’ my Cessna 172 into this nasty crosswind was not the first thing I wanted to do on a Sunday afternoon.
“Shit.” I said it out loud. I didn’t mean to, so I said it again just to be sure.
“What?” she asked. Like she didn’t realize that landing sideways on a runway was going to make things a little awkward.
I glanced over, then, quick as I could, I looked away again. Who the hell wears a mini-skirt in the cockpit. There’s a reason dames on ships and planes is bad luck. It’s ‘cause dumbasses like me don’t think so good with bare thighs hangin’ out right next to your vertical velocity indicator.
I swear to God, I was gonna tell this dame to get lost in my office. Probably ninety-seven other times before we actually got on the plane, my plane; the one half-way decent thing I’ve ever had in my life that my ex-wife didn’t take from me. Get lost. Yeah, right. I actually had the words on the way out at one point when she started cryin’. God, I hate that.
You know they do that on purpose. They got like this sixth-sense or something, and they just know. I got as far as “You know, I been thinking,” when the tears start. She was good, too. I knew exactly what she was doing. And what’s worse is that she knew I knew. And it still worked.
I bet if I started crying right now she wouldn’t be asking what she could do to make it all better. Hell no. She’d be thinking we’re gonna die.
Five-hundred feet. Too shallow. Too far right. Shit. Who the hell hired a landscaper to plant palm trees out here. Anybody who sees ‘em up close ain’t gonna like it. One mile now. Just gotta slide left a little and then straighten her out.
“This might feel a little weird,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Um, you notice we’re not pointing down the runway?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, that’s because it’s a strong wind and it’s blowing us off course.”
“And?”
“And as we touch down I gotta get us lined up or we’re gonna be harvesting coconuts.” I risked a quick glance at her face. God, I was nervous. And not just about this landing. She gave a quick nod and I focused on the threshold as it passed under us. Fifty feet. Twenty. I pushed the rudder right to straighten us out, keeping the ailerons left. There’s a brief instant where my stomach says hello to my spleen, then I feel three distinct thumps as the wheels touched down.
That’s the worst flying gets. And the most exhilarating. It feels so good when it’s done. Kinda like I hope this job feels. When it’s done. It sure as hell ain’t gonna be boring.
So, there you go. And don’t ask. I have no idea what he’s doing in the Caribbean.
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