By PJ Parrish

I love stories that take place in frozen tundras. Alien James Arness unthawed and on a rampage in The Thing From Another World. Neanderthal Timothy Hutton unthawed and seeking his god in Iceman. The Green Bay Packers vanquishing The Dallas Cowboys in the 1967 championship Ice Bowl game.

Icy climes have been the setting for some top-notch fiction. Maybe it’s the innate drama of the setting, or more likely the potential therewithin to exploit ice as a metaphor. F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1920 short story “The Ice Palace” is about a southern belle who becomes engaged to a man from the North. She almost freezes to death in an ice palace at a winter carnival, which leads her to rethink the engagement. But ice stands as a metaphor for the differing attitudes of Northerners and Southerners.

Some of my favorites: Smilla’s Sense of Snow with its chilling opening at a Greenland funeral. Jo Nesbo’s The Snowman. And The Hunting Party, where Lucy Foley uses an important trope of the mystery genre: People aren’t always what they appear to be below their frozen surfaces.

And I have to add in here one of the most startling opening lines in fiction, from Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude:

Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.

Full disclosure: Several of my own books take place in the frozen wilds of my native Michigan, including a scene where a body is found frozen in a lake and a terrifying trip across the “ice bridge” between Mackinac Island and the mainland that plunges my hero Louis Kincaid in the icy depths. So when this submission came across my desk, I was predisposed to like it. Thanks for offering it up, dear writer. I’ll be back in few minutes with my comments.

OUT ON THE ICE
a horror story

Hospital Corpsman Quinn Marie Chambers sat in the snow tractor her medical emergency kit in her lap, watching the other naval personnel and Marines investigating the beached whale. A small group of native Inuits looked on and seemed nervous.

There was little for Quinn to do as long as the other members of the Emergency Response Team didn’t get hurt somehow. She shivered at the cold.

The Inuit guide they called Mac sat in the back seat. He stirred, trying to get a better view of the goings on.

Quinn sipped warm coffee from her thermos cup and watched Chief Petty Officer Selsman trudge toward the big snow tractor. She finished her cup and poured another for him.

A nasty wind ladened with heavy snow and particles of ice blew into the cab when Selsman opened the driver-side door.

Quinn handed him the cup. “Beached whale?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean?

“Someone put nine bullets into its head.”

“Murder?’

“Maybe. Not sure if you can actually murder a whale.”

Mac said, “This will anger Qalupalik. This is an unnatural death. This will dirty her hair.” He shook his head in resignation.

“Who the hell is Qalupalik?’ Quinn asked.

“She is—”

“—a legend. A Greenland fairy tale. She is the monster in the deep protecting sea life. It teaches children not to screw up the ocean,” Selsman said.

Mac held his chin up and crossed his arms..

“Don’t worry about it. NCIS will be here soon to investigate to see if any of our personnel are involved. If not, it’s not our problem.”

In the back seat, Mac quietly chanted an Inuit prayer for the dead whale.

The two Marines on the team high stepped through the snow and wind toward the tractor. One held his hand wrapped in a handkerchief that had blood stains on it.

Quinn scooted over to let the marine have space to sit down. She tended to the wound. “How did this happen?’

“I was digging a bullet out of the whale’s head and my knife slipped.”

“Did you get the bullet?” Chief Selsman asked.

The marine smiled. “Damn right I did. And I bagged and tagged it as well.”

“Gotta love a good marine,” Selsman said.

“You should throw that bullet back into the ocean so Qalupalik can confront the killer with it,” Mac said.

“Can’t. It’s evidence,” Selsman said, starting up the tractor’s engine.

___________________________________

First off, I like the concept here. I mean, a dead whale isn’t as sexy, crime-wise, as a dead human being. But the fact the whale has nine bullet in its head is pretty cool, but more intriguing: Why do these Marines care? So I was definitely willing to read on. Good original set-up. Haven’t read this one before.

Some other good things: The writer handles dialogue well. It’s easy to follow, clean and I like the clipped no-nonsense tone of the Marines. It feels authentic.

But. Here’s the one thing I didn’t like: The protag’s detachment. The clue is right there in the second paragraph: “There was little for Quinn to do as long as the other members of the Emergency Response Team didn’t get hurt somehow.”

She is watching. She is waiting. She is doing nothing. All the interesting action is happening apart from her. Now, here’s the problem: She is not an active part of this investigation. Her job is medical only. As the writer puts it, she can do nothing but sit there unless someone gets hurt. So right from the get-go, she is positioned as a passive character by the circumstances.

How could this have been fixed? Not sure. And it’s not up to me to rethink or rewrite someone’s story. And it’s not terrible the way it is. I just wish there was a better portal for Quinn to enter the story, grab the spotlight — and our attention. So I am going to ask the writer to step back and look for a different angle, a different perspective on this scene unfolding.

It could be something as simple as changing the order of events. Does Quinn HAVE to be sitting in the snow tractor waiting? Wouldn’t she be more interesting if basic curiosity moved her to go out and see the whale for herself? Maybe, dear writer, you entered your story a beat too late. Maybe you need to back up and have her out there on the ice with the others during the initial discovery?

What would that do to improve things? You eliminate distance and detachment. If she’s OUT THERE you can give us a description of the whale and the scene (right now we have none). If she’s OUT THERE, she can see for herself the whale’s head. Instead of you saying she is watching (passive) the marines investigate “a beached whale” you can have her OUT THERE thinking (active) “This was no beached whale. Someone had shot the whale in head.”

A couple years ago, a pygmy whale washed up on a California beach with a bullet hole in its head. True story. I will spare you the gory photos here. (here’s the link) but it would have made for a very bloody dramatic scene for Quinn to witness and describe for readers.

Quinn needs to see it. Quinn needs to feel it. Quinn needs to tell us what she is experiencing. The last place you want her to be is inside a vehicle, drinking coffee and waiting.

Make her a hero. Even if there is not yet anything heroic for her to do. You need to set her up as a potential hero. Active, not reactive.

Then, as she views this massacred whale, a marine gets cut and she finally has something to do. Maybe this then can provide contrast to her feeling of impotency, of NOT being a part of the action.

Two other problems: First, where are we? There is one reference to “Greenland fairy tale.” Does this take place in Greenland? Where exactly? Because you’re dealing with Marines, I assume we’re near Pituffik Space Base (formerly Thule Air Base). This is way up north and operated by the U.S. Space Force. It is one of the most strategically important military sites in the world.  (Hence its presence in our political news). You must find a way to establish this. It can be handled easily through Quinn’s thoughts:

They were at least twenty miles from the air base at Pituffik. There wasn’t a village or a single hut anywhere near this isolated beach. They were 750 miles from the North Pole and the nearest settlement, Qaanaaq, was more than 70 miles away.

Second problem: You really need to spice up your description. Such a fabulous setting. Such a gruesome “murder.”  Yet you don’t give us any sense of what it looks like, feels like, SMELLS like. (dead mammal on beach!). Again, we’re taking about the difference between telling and showing. Don’t tell me it’s cold; show me. Don’t tell me the Inuits “are nervous.” Show me via their actions, through her consciousness.

This is a good first draft, dear writer. With a re-positioning of Quinn and some vivid description (use all the senses!), you’ll have a stronger opening. Some quick line edits follow. My comments in blue

Hospital Corpsman Don’t open with a title. Find a way to slip in later, more artfully what she does. Her ACTIONS should do it. Quinn Marie Chambers sat in the snow tractor her medical emergency kit in her lap, watching the other naval personnel and Marines investigating the beached whale. A small group of native Inuits looked on and seemed nervous. This opening graph is passive. Why not opening with a vivid description of the corpse? Then surprise us by telling us, through Quinn’s thoughts, that it’s not a MERE beached whale.

There was little for Quinn to do as long as the other members of the Emergency Response Team didn’t get hurt somehow. She shivered at the cold. A little lazy; what does this cold FEEL like? Where is she from? Maybe this godforsaken Greenland cold feels completely different than the cold in her native WHERE? Never miss a chance to compare and contrast and to slip in a nuggest of her backstory.

The Inuit guide they called Mac sat in the back seat. He stirred, trying to get a better view of the goings on. More distancing. 

Quinn sipped warm coffee from her thermos cup and watched Chief Petty Officer Selsman trudge toward the big snow tractor. She finished her cup and poured another for him.

A nasty wind ladened with heavy snow and particles of ice I know you can do better than this. “nasty wind” is cliche. Has she been in this climate/place long or is she new here? Frame it through her experience and consciousness blew into the cab when Selsman opened the driver-side door.

Quinn handed him the cup. “Beached whale?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean? Again, she is passive. And you’ve deprieved the reader of SEEING THE ACTUAL SCENE! 

“Someone put nine bullets into its head.”  Bingo! This is where things get interesting. This should be like the third paragraph of your opening.

“Murder?’

“Maybe. Not sure if you can actually murder a whale.”

Mac said, “This will anger Qalupalik,” Mac said. This will dirty her hair.” He shook his head in resignation.  Great line! Let it stand there alone for a second.

“Who the hell is Qalupalik?’ Quinn asked.

“She is—”

“—a legend, Selsman said.. A Greenland fairy tale. She is the monster in the deep protecting sea life. It? teaches children not to screw up the ocean,” Selsman said.  Love how you brought in the Inuit lore.

Mac held his chin up and crossed his arms.. Not sure what you’re going for here? Anger? 

“Don’t worry about it. NCIS will be here soon to investigate to see if any of our personnel are involved. If not, it’s not our problem.” Who’s talking? And you need to start dealing with Greenland officials or at least bringing it up. Whales are both hunted AND strictly protected in Greenland. They would be obligated to immediately notify proper authorities.  

In the back seat, Mac quietly chanted an Inuit prayer for the dead whale. Unless Quinn understands Inuit, she wouldn’t have a clue what he’s chanting about. STAY IN HER POV. She can think that he seems to be chanting or singing but she can’t really know, can she? That is YOU the writer talking, not the character. Again, stay in her POV: What does it SOUND like? Don’t tell me he’s chanting; describe the sound.

The two Marines on the team high stepped through the snow First mention, btw, that there’s snow on the ground and wind toward the tractor. One held his hand wrapped in a handkerchief that had blood stains on it.

Quinn scooted over to let the marine have space to sit down. She tended to the wound. “How did this happen?’

“I was digging a bullet out of the whale’s head and my knife slipped.”

“Did you get the bullet?” Chief Selsman asked.

The marine smiled. “Damn right I did. And I bagged and tagged it as well.”

“Gotta love a good marine,” Selsman said.

“You should throw that bullet back into the ocean so Qalupalik can confront the killer with it,” Mac said.

“Can’t. It’s evidence,” Selsman said, starting up the tractor’s engine.

So, dear writer….again, thanks for submitting. I enjoyed reading this and want Quinn to claim her spotlight. And make this setting a “character” in itself. Remember what Smilla said: The Inuits have a hundred words for snow. You need more words! Would love the see your next attempt. Keep writing!