I have this very handy app on my phone called MightyText. You put it on your phone, link it to your computer, and you can answer texts directly from your laptop without having to pick up your phone which of course also displays the messages. Texts people send you show up on your computer screen and you can read scan them while you are doing what are (usually) more important tasks or answer them right away. I can also use the keyboard instead of  swype typing. I am not good at Swyping, which on occasion has caused me to text “why don’t you stick it where the sun doesn’t shine” instead of “sure! I would be happy to help you with that.” Or something like that. We’ve all done it. Anyway…

…what follows is still unfolding, since it just started this morning. I got my first cup of coffee, went into my home office, and brought the screen up on my laptop. While I was waiting for my emails to load I looked at the text messages I had received overnight, including the following, which nestled among the others like a brown recluse spider hiding in a closet full of Christmas sweaters:

                                     Stop playing with my grandchild.

Now…I am what might generally be described as a hermit. I avoid talking to anyone if I am able and can stay comfortably in my house and yard for days at a time without leaving the premises. I don’t do things like coach the local grade school wrestling team, play a clown at parties, offer to take the neighborhood kids up to Dairy Queen, or hang around the city parks offering to push children on swings. So…my initial thought was…“Why me?” I waited a minute to see if a SWAT team would come busting in through the front door, confiscate my computer (all of the above notwithstanding, I really don’t want my computer confiscated) and frog march me into a van where I would be driven downtown and thrown into the bowels of what has been mislabeled as the “Franklin County Hall of Justice.” Which is my I am writing this from my ce…just kidding. Nothing happened. After a minute or two I calmed down. Usually when I hear hoofbeats I don’t think that it’s herd of zebras; the thinking part of my brain kicked in and I came to the conclusions that 1) the message was sent to me in error and 2) the person who sent it was in any event concerned about a potentially devastating situation involving a child. I decided to contact them. I did not recognize the originating text number; I have learned that people who initially contact you are more comfortable if you respond via the same medium, so I replied by texting the following:

                         Either 1) you texted your message to the wrong number (mine) or 2) there is a grievous misunderstanding here, but I have absolutely no idea who you are or what you are talking about. In any event, your text has been misdirected. If you have texted to the wrong number, you might want to send it to the intended party. If you think I have anything to do with your grandchild, you are wrong. Contact me directly and out in the open. I am more than willing to assuage any concerns you might have. I am a grandparent myself and can sympathize. Kind regards.

As I write this (Friday evening, EDT) I have not received a response. While waiting, however, I got to thinking…what would have happened if my door had gotten knocked in by the local gendarme, and I had been arrested, and the police found all sorts of reprehensible crap on my computer that I had not downloaded to it, but, by gum it was there, and the complaining person was someone who, as it turned out, I knew very well indeed? From the “who” and the ‘what” I got to the “why” and the “how” in fairly short order (the “when” is kind of irrelevant at this point). I started streaming a first page, then a second, and then a third, then realized that I had better start an outline, given that there are so many different ways to go with this (which is why I don’t mind sharing this little gem of an idea with you). I don’t know where this story will go, whether it will wind up with its feet propped up on a railed balcony in New Orleans’ French Quarter or end up with a broken axle by the side of road in Cut Off, Louisiana, but it’s going somewhere.

What I would like from you is five dollars to crowdsource this effort. Not really. I would like for you to share the oddest text you have ever received, either in error or by design. Please. And thank you.

Elmore Leonard, one of our best American writers, famously said that he tried to “leave out the parts people skip” when he was writing. Anyone who has read a Leonard novel knows that they are lean, move quickly, and certainly don’t require any skimming.

But what exactly does that mean?

People start skimming when they lose interest. When they want you to get on with things. When they’re not as engaged by the story as they should be.

So how do you keep them engaged?

What follows are a few ideas.

KEEP YOUR PROSE STYLE
SIMPLE, ECONOMIC, AND CLEAR

You can certainly be clever and artistic, but never sacrifice economy and clarity for the sake of “art.” Much of that art, in fact, is writing sentences and paragraphs and pages that flow from one to the next, giving the reader no choice but to hang onto every word.

And clarity is always important. If a reader is confused about what is going on, she may well give up on you.

Don’t bog your story down with too much description.

Descriptive passages can be quite beautiful, but your job is to weigh whether or not they’re necessary. Poetic writing is often wonderful, but those who can pull it off are rare.

Gregory MacDonald, the author of the Fletch books, among others, once said that because we live in a “post-television” world, it is no longer necessary to use the amount of description needed in the past. We all know what the Statue of Liberty looks like because we’ve seen it on TV. We’ve seen just about everything on TV, and probably even more on the Internet.

So, I think it’s best to limit your descriptions to only what is absolutely necessary to make the story work. Meaning: enough to set the scene, set up a character, or to clarify an action.

Let’s face it. Saying something as simple as, The place was a dump. Several used syringes lay on the floor next to a ratty mattress with half its stuffing gone is often more than enough to get the message across.

If you can, describe a setting through the eyes of whatever character controls the scene (meaning point of view). If you include the description as part of that character’s thought process, colored by his or her mood or personality, the description then becomes much more dynamic and also reveals a lot about that character.

One man’s dump, after all, may be another man’s paradise. And showing how a character reacts to a place is much more interesting than a static description.

TEASE YOUR READERS

One of the biggest mistakes I see aspiring writers make is that they try to reveal too much about character motivation and story too soon. Your job—as crass as it might sound—is to manipulate your reader. To keep her reading. Turning those pages.

Imagine meeting someone for the first time and they tell you everything there is to know about them. Where they were born, where they went to school, how many affairs they’ve had, how many brothers and sisters, their favorite color, their favorite food—you get the point.

What makes people interesting to us is that all of these things are revealed over a long period of time. We get to know them gradually, rather than all at once. They are a mystery that we have to unravel.

The same holds true with storytelling. You manipulate your readers by constantly creating questions in their minds. Why is she doing that? Where is she going? What happened to her in the past that makes her afraid of confronting him?

If we know it all up front, we’ll lose interest fast.

Actor and comedian Keegan Michael Key recently described improvisation as walking backwards. I think the same applies to writing fiction. You start with a character and as you walk the reader backwards, more and more gets revealed. The chair he’s sitting in, part of the room surrounding him—there’s a bed over there, a sofa to his right—then you keep walking backwards and you discover that one of the walls has crumbled and you begin to hear the sounds of traffic and you realize the man is sitting in a chair in a house with only two walls and no roof that has been partially destroyed by a tornado ,and he’s more or less sitting outside…

You start close and pull back and reveal, reveal, reveal.

GIVE YOUR CHARACTERS
A SERIES OF GOALS

Most stories will involve a central character who wants something. In a thriller, for instance, that may be something very big. The hero wants to stop the bad guy from, say, blowing up the federal building.

But if that’s all the story is about, then I’m yawning already.

If you give the hero a series of goals, smaller points he or she must reach—both internally and externally—before finally reaching that ultimate goal, then your reader will never lose interest.

A great example is the third Die Hard movie, Die Hard with a Vengeance.

The bad guy has something nefarious up his sleeve. But in order to distract the police from that ultimate goal, he sends them on a series of wild goose chases involving high explosives. And because our heroes are moving from one goal to the next, we’re never bored. In fact, we spend much of our time on the edge of our seat.

In the meantime, the main hero suspects that something is up, and as he tries to puzzle it out, we’re right there with him. We have only as much information as he has, so we’re not about to abandon ship until he (and we) knows the truth.

But more importantly, we also have a dynamic relationship playing out on screen between two characters played by Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson. These two men must work together reluctantly, and because we find them engaging, our stake in the outcome of the story is even higher.

Which brings me to my final point:

CREATE COMPELLING CHARACTERS

If you don’t create characters who are interesting in themselves, who have internal struggles we can relate to, who have fears we understand, who have a goal that makes sense to us on a personal level, then it doesn’t matter how cleverly you plot your novel. We won’t care.

Hopefully all of the above will help you “leave out the parts people skip.” And if you want to find out how the master himself does it, go pick up an Elmore Leonard novel today.

But be warned. He does it so well, it’s seamless. So you’ll have to pay close attention…

Today we’re reviewing a first page submission titled CHECKS AND BALANCES. I’ll add my comments at the end. Then, I invite you to add your constructive feedback in the Comments.

CHECKS AND BALANCES

The Peak District, Year Eight of the First Lord and Eternal Blessed First Lady’s Glorious Regime. June.

I pushed through the ranks of stern-faced men and women dressed in combat trousers and canvas jackets until I reached David.

“Good of you to finally join us, Melanie.” Without another word, he set out hacked CCTV feed to show Somerset House from the Strand.

The elegant arches and columns of the Regime’s headquarters formed a stark contrast to this utilitarian network of abandoned mines. I dutifully studied the armed soldiers guarding the archway and the helicopters hovering above the courtyard, but the larger-than-life portraits that dominated the façade demanded my attention.

Honour the First Lord demanded the painting on the left, above an image of a striking man in replica nineteenth-century military uniform. Remember the Eternal Blessed First Lady mourned its companion on the right-hand side. Its subject appeared as fragile and innocent as a rococo shepherdess, but my co-conspirators considered her a she-devil in life and their most high-profile victim in death.

“There’ve been too many deaths, too many prisoners. We need to stop the Regime once and for all,” David intoned. Years of outdoor living had given him the muscles and hearty glow he could only have dreamt of in his old life as an academic. When he spoke, people listened.

I ignored him.

My eyes lingered on the second portrait until its features blurred. Until I was content that the so-called Eternal Bless First Lady’s curves, red lips and Dior gown bore no resemblance to my soldier’s body and weather-beaten face. The Treaty camp didn’t possess a mirror, but I could well imagine the changes wrought by five years of camping in the peaks and hiding in mines, wracked by cold, hunger, and the constant fear of discovery. Besides, Marianne Helmsley’s defining feature had always been her Rapunzel curls, and I’d cropped my hair to the skull the night I fled to the Treaty.

No one had recognized me before. No one would recognize me now. If there was one thing both sides agreed on, it was that the dictator’s wife was dead.

My Comments

No doubt the writer has a strong mental image of everything that’s happening in this first page, but that image wasn’t conveyed cLeary enough for me as a reader to get oriented within the scene. I needed more of a sense of the physical context in which the scene is taking place. For example, the early reference to “hacked CCTV feed” made me assume that the characters are viewing everything else that is being described that described on a monitor or screen of some sort, but I wasn’t certain.

Grounding and Context

The second paragraph refers to “Somerset House On The Strand,” followed immediately by a reference to “the Regime’s headquarters.” By those places are contrasted with “this utilitarian network of abandoned mines,” I was floundering at sea.

Eccentric Language Creates Confusion

I kept stumbling over some unusual language and word choices.

For example, in the following line

Honour the First Lord demanded the painting on the left

I wasn’t sure if the writer intended to use the verb “demanded” as written here, or simply made a mistake. The next line only exacerbated my confusion by injecting a convoluted character name (“Remember the Eternal Blessed First Lady”), along with another eccentric verb choice.

Remember the Eternal Blessed First Lady mourned its companion on the right-hand side.

As a general rule, it’s best to avoid the over-use of confusing, idiosyncratic language. For example, the following introductory framing line struck me as unintentionally humorous:

Eternal Blessed First Lady’s Glorious Regime. June.

It reminded me of the mockumentary film “Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan”. (Which is probably not the tone that the writer had in mind!)

A Part Well Done: A Snappy KIck-off

I did like the deft way the author kicked out of the scene at the end of the page.

If there was one thing both sides agreed on, it was that the dictator’s wife was dead.

That line gave me the first strong clue about the situation being presented in this story: a military dictator’s wife forced to go incognito within a hostile environment. That’s an intriguing setup for a story. (Update: See Sheryl’s suggestion in the Comments to use this line as the first line of the story–it’s a great idea!)

Writing as Telepathy 

Writing is telepathy, Stephen King once said. The writer of CHECKS AND BALANCES needs to make sure that the reader can “see” the images  that are playing inside the story creator’s mind. It’s not an easy task, to be sure–but that’s the challenge of writing effectively.

A big thank you to today’s brave writer for submitting this first page! Please add your feedback in the Comments.

by Larry Brooks

We’ve all read a novel that changes our lives.  That makes us either want to become a writer, or glad we are already chasing the dream.

And a little sad, because in our heart we know we will never be quite that good.

Most of us have several of those, stories that are personal to us because it feels like we discovered them.  We remember them like love affairs that have left us different, enriched, even a little broken-hearted, if nothing else than because there can never be another first time.

And yet, every time we come back, it just gets better and better.

When such a novel resurfaces as a movie  — in this case 20 years later — we approach with caution.  And yet, with itchy excitement, because we get to immerse in that world again, live it through the eyes of a director with the same response to the novel that we had… this is a story that deserves to live on.

Just maybe it will live up to the book.

Last week I caught a trailer for a new film release that got my attention.  

Not because I recognized it as an adaptation of a novel that blew me away, but because the story being teased touched those old nerves in the same way.

And then it hit me.

The film is called Manhattan Night. 

The novel that blew my mind in 1996, written by Colin Harrison, was/is entitled Manhattan Nocturne.

Perfect.  Hollywood dumbs down the title, taking the je ne sais quoi right out of it, but keeps the tonality and plot intrigue of its core… this could not be a coincidence.

Some dreams do come true.

That novel, the one that set the bar high, is about to be released as a movie that promises to do the same thing.

What you need to know about that novel, and the movie they’ve finally made from it, is delivered in two short blurbs… one about the story, the other about the author:

When a seductive stranger asks tabloid writer Porter Wren to dig into the unsolved murder of her filmmaker husband, he is drawn into a very nasty case of sexual obsession and blackmail – one that threatens his job, his marriage, and his life.

Sexy old school noir thriller with brains, anyone?

Colin Harrison was the emerging pulp literati superstar of new millennium.  He was referred to by a reviewer as the poet laureate of American thriller authors, and has a resume that reads as if it were the wet dream of a newly minted MFA graduate with commercial sensibilities (which he was, in 1986, from the University of Iowa Writer’s Workshop).

Manhattan Nocturne was his second novel.  His third novel, Afterburn, became a highly touted New York Times Bestseller, and the second best book of 2000, right after Zadie Smith’s White Teeth.

Even his wife was/is a bestselling novelist (Kathryn Harrison, with an intimidating Wiki of her own).

What could go wrong?  Well, a 20-year wait to get the film made, that’s what.

The guy’s prose is… stunning.

Not in a lit prof you’ll-never-see-me-holding-a-paperback-on-the-train sort of way, but in a Dashiel Hammett meets Mickey Spillane channeling Raymond Chandler sort of way, but with the swagger of a White House speechwriter.  Often in workshops, when I get to the part where we talk about — and try to understand how to craft — stellar writing voice, I simply read the first page of Harrison’s Manhattan Nocturne aloud, which contains all of three adjectives yet reads like the breathless musing of a mad genius reporter teetering on the abyss of The Best Scoop Ever, searching for killer lead.

Universally, the writing audience silently mouths a chorus of “oh my…”

He writes our kind of prose.  The poetry of thrillers and mysteries set on fire with passion and tension and the promise of shocking betrayals.  Narrative that kills.

So there you go.  A great read and a movie ticket for you, to light your writer’s brain on fire.

Read the Wikipedia on the novel HERE.

Then click on the movie poster above (not the book cover) to see the trailer.

That bar… it just keeps getting higher and higher.

Last Friday when we talked about discoverability, some people mentioned that they hear about books from online blogs. Please share the names of some of your favorite blog sites (other than TKZ, of course!) ?

By Elaine Viets

THE CASE OF THE MISSING PAINTING is TKZ’s monthly First Page critique, submitted by an Anonymous Author. Congratulations, AA. You need courage to submit your work for evaluation, but it’s a major step toward publication. Here’s AA’s first page. My comments follow.

The Case of the Missing Painting

My cellphone startled me from a pleasant although dreamless sleep. The phone fell to the floor when I groped for it in the dark. Awake now, I grabbed the offending object. “Hello,” I said, sure someone had died.

“Jenna, it’s Toni,” my cousin’s voice rang out. “Someone stole Granddad’s painting,”

Granddad’s painting? Could she mean the Impressionistic landscape he’d painted long before I was born? I switched on the lamp and sat up in bed to the utmost annoyance of Stalin, who loved to sleep nestled against my back. The cat growled in protest.

“Did you hear me? Granddad’s painting’s been stolen.” More hysteria.

“I heard you,” I choked out. “But…” clearing my throat. “I’m not sure if I’m awake or dreaming. Why the devil are you calling me at…” I glanced at my phone. “At two-thirteen in the morning? Besides, I thought Aunt Lucy had that painting, safely tucked in her Florida condo.”

“Mom gave it to my brother, Joey. He says it’s disappeared, and let me tell you he’s frantic. Mom’s going to kill him.”

“Why would anyone want it? It’s a copy, an artist’s impression of a master. Priceless to us but worthless to anyone else.” My mind cleared and my voice sounded almost awake. That painting symbolized everything I loved about my dad and his Italian roots.

“That’s what I thought. But, apparently there’s more to it than that. I really don’t want to go into it on the phone and anyway…Neal, quit that.”

“What’s going on?”

“Neal keeps trying to cut off the AC.  I’m calling from the car. We’re on our way to see you after we stop in Columbus to pick up Joey—”

“At this hour?”

“Joey can tell you all about it. We should roll in sometime this afternoon. Get the extra bed ready. I told Joey we could count on you. Cousins sticking together and all.” She clicked off.

Roll in to see me? This afternoon? Extra bed? What extra bed? This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare.

I switched off the light and closed my eyes. Visions of my granddad’s painting floated across my consciousness—the muted colors reflecting on the surface of the water. The building sitting on the bank as if submerged. A cherished painting I hadn’t thought about in years. But why had Toni called me in the middle of the night? What couldn’t she tell me over the phone? I tossed, repositioned my pillow, tossed again and finally drifted off to sleep.

Elaine’s Critique: Your novel has an intriguing start, AA, but too much information is crammed into your first page. You can deliver that information throughout the chapter, even later in the book. Your work is clean and free of typos, which is important. Here are a few other points to consider.

There’s an overlooked opportunity for a more dramatic opening. We all fear late-night calls. They usually mean someone’s dead, as you mentioned in an aside. Make that your beginning and ratchet up the tension. You can still have the cell phone wrestling scene, but I’d pare it down.

Where is your novel set? Cousin Toni tells Jenna, “I’m calling from the car. We’re on our way to see you after we stop in Columbus to pick up Joey . . . We should roll in sometime this afternoon.”

That’s an easy fix. Toni can say, “We left MY CITY AN HOUR AGO. We should roll into YOUR CITY sometime this afternoon.”

Hysteria? You do a good job of moving the action forward with dialogue, AA, but the first time you mention Toni you write, “my cousin’s voice rang out.” Then Jenna thinks in italics, “more hysteria.” “Rang out” does not indicate “more hysteria.” If she’s hysterical, show us. Have Toni talking extra fast, sounding frantic, tripping over her words, using a high-pitched voice, or other indicators of hysteria.

Give a clearer description of Granddad’s painting. It’s the key to the novel. AA writes, “Could she mean the Impressionistic landscape he’d painted long before I was born?” And “Visions of my granddad’s painting floated across my consciousness—the muted colors reflecting on the surface of the water. The building sitting on the bank as if submerged.”

Do you mean “Impressionist,” a school of painting? Or “impressionistic,” with a lower case I? What is the “building sitting on the bank”? A church? A mansion? Granddad’s home? Something else? And the bank of what? A river? A stream? Where is the painting set? The US, Italy, Britain? More specifics will give your novel a vivid start. Also, the painting is “an artist’s impression of a master.” Which master? Tell us.

Too many people in the first page. This is a common reviewers’ complaint. Jenna, Toni, Joey and Neal are crammed into one page. It’s over-crowded. Neal is never identified. Is he Toni’s husband? Son? Another cousin?

What’s the season? Is it in the chilly winter? A sticky summer night? A phrase can settle that question.

Tell us a little more about Toni and Jenna.  How old are they? What kind of person is Toni? Right now, she sounds more impulsive than hysterical. Is she Jenna’s “crazy” cousin? Is she normally level-headed, so Jenna has more reason to pay attention to her alarm? A phrase or two can help us out. Somewhere in the first chapter, let us know what both these women do. Are they employed? Students? What are their last names? Are they married or single?

That darn cat. AA writes, “I switched on the lamp and sat up in bed to the utmost annoyance of Stalin, who loved to sleep nestled against my back. The cat growled in protest.” Don’t let your readers guess who Jenna’s sleeping with. Try this: “I switched on the lamp and sat up in bed to the utmost annoyance of my cat, Stalin, who loved to sleep nestled against my back.”

And do you really want to name your cat after a mass-murdering dictator? That’s like calling the cat Hitler. Not funny, and painful for some readers.

Do you need that last line? AA writes, “What couldn’t she tell me over the phone? I tossed, repositioned my pillow, tossed again and finally drifted off to sleep.”

Would Jenna really be able to go back to sleep if she got a worrisome phone call at two a.m.? I wouldn’t. Your first page will have stronger impact if you cut that final sentence.

Consider changing:

• “a pleasant although dreamless sleep” to “a pleasant, dreamless sleep.”
• “to the utmost annoyance of Stalin.” Take out “utmost.”
• “I choked out.” Consider “I said.” “I choked out” doesn’t add drama. It’s a distraction.
• “My mind cleared and my voice sounded almost awake.” How does Jenna know what she sounds like? This can be cut.
• “This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare.” Make it, “This had to be a nightmare.” Or consider cutting it.

Don’t be put off by these comments, Anonymous Author. This is a good story. Go forth and write.

Any comments, TKZ readers?

The Art of Murder, Elaine Viets’s new Dead-End Job mystery, opens at Bonnet House, a whimsical Fort Lauderdale museum with rollicking art, exotic orchids, carousel figures, and three squirrel monkeys who escaped from a bar. Elaine worked as a museum volunteer while she researched her fifteenth Dead-End Job mystery. The Art of Murder has been on the Pub Alley Mystery Bestseller list for nearly three weeks. www.elaineviets.com