Ray Stone's Blog: A blog for everyone, page 8
September 28, 2015
Running Scared – Serial Preface
Written by: Ray StoneI’m a little confused. I woke up this morning in a hospital but have no idea how I got here. Everything is white but I can see some trees through the window. The nurses are really nice and the doctor is pleasant but he keeps asking questions I cannot answer. There are two other patients in the same room as myself. They talk to each other but only look at me from time to time and either shake their heads or smile.
“Time for your medication, John.”
I don’t know my name but it isn’t John. I want to tell her but my mouth won’t form the words. The nurse’s soft voice seems so far away and yet my ears ring with irritation. Short white hair under a white cap and a big round face appears above me and I notice soft white downy hair on her chin. Large hazel eyes study me for a few seconds before her mouth opens and words tumble out between white teeth.
“Just a little injection in your side, John, and we’re done.”
There’s that smile again. They all smile but I can’t. Questions – nothing but questions. The same questions over and over. I’ve got questions too. What’s wrong with me and how long have I been here and why?
“There you are, John. All done,” she says, pulling the covers back over me.
I look at the small name broach pinned to her chest and I can see her name but can’t understand or read it. She hurries away and I have tears in my eyes.
***
It’s been six months, so they tell me, since I came in after a road accident but I cannot remember what happened. At least I can talk now and move around on my own. The police keep asking me about the dead girl but I don’t remember any girl. It worries me that a twenty year old is dead, someone I knew I assume. Her name was Karen and she was sitting in the back seat of my BMW.
I’m sitting by the window when the nurse rushes in. All excited, she half bends and claps her hands and makes me feel like a child. She’s grinning. “Someone to see you, John.”
“Thank you, Stella,” I reply.
An old couple enters the room. The man is tall and smartly dressed in a navy-blue suit and the woman in a pink dress. I shake hands with them but they seem preoccupied. The woman comes straight to the point.
“We don’t know your name but our daughter, Karen, was with you in the accident. I have a photo of her that might help you remember what happened. She ran away from home when she was twelve. We never saw her again.” The father hands me her driving licence.
I look at it. An instantaneous montage of confused pictures races’s through my mind’s eye. A man running toward me flashes into focus and then disappears. It’s then I remember and wish I hadn’t.
Wait til I tell you – Chapter 7 – Ray Stone
Charlotte sighed deeply and dabbed her swollen eyes with a tissue. Yogi settled back on the couch and waited patiently. Whatever she was about to tell him was more in truth than fiction and something he guessed was going to surface once their friendship matured. Pictures of her children and her husband featured throughout the house in a not too obvious manner; more a quiet subtle reminder of happier times.
Yogi was surprised as she slipped into her story, announcing it was a favourite fairy tale.
“Once upon a time there lived a King who had a beautiful daughter. He longed for a suiter to ask for the princess’s hand in marriage but the man had to be honest, hardworking and fearless. So the king sent a messenger to all the far corners of the land with a proclamation. One day two men arrived at the footbridge that led to the castle. The first, a young man, asked to cross the bridge so that he might see the King. The bridge keeper, a fearsome giant of a man demanded a toll of two sovereigns. I have not more than two pennies, replied the young man. However I will gladly give you the shirt from my back and the shoes on my feet for I am determined to marry the princess. I am a carpenter and can build her a house. I have fought highway rogues along my journey to get here and would gladly die before anyone would do her highness harm. I have no wealth in coin but the love I wish to share is priceless. The bridge keeper agreed and took the toll offered. The second man approached and took two sovereigns from his purse but the bridge keeper refused it. After offering another two sovereigns the keeper refused again. You let that young scoundrel across, he shouted. What has he, compared to me, got to offer the princess? The keeper pointed to the young man crossing the bridge. You are wealthy and offered but a small portion of your purse. That young man gave me everything he possessed; for he has a dream he will sacrifice everything for. You are wealthy with nothing more than a desire for position and more wealth. The keeper’s prediction came true. The young couple married and lived happily ever after.”
Charlotte closed her eyes. “You see, Yogi, I feel like that young man. I had a dream and followed my heart rather than follow a successful career. My husband refused to understand I wanted to be creative and write. He’s a wealthy man and spoils the children who see in him the answer to their dreams of wealth and materialistic plenty. I wish I could instil in them that feeling of pride and achievement that comes from hard work and being part of a loving family. I long to see my children again but I will never give up my dream.”
Yogi sat, deep in thought before handing Charlotte his rent.
http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/wait-till-i-tell-you – Follow from the start
September 24, 2015
Chapter 6 – Wait til I tell you
Written by: Donna McT
Her routine is the same every day. At 9am she sits by the window watching for the birds that flit jubilantly in the Frangipani tree that she’d planted so many years before, a fresh pad of paper, her favourite pen, and a mug of coffee arranged on the desk in front of her. Each item in its allotted position; she liked the simplicity of the routine, found comfort in it and enjoyed its liberating effect on her writing. She had become used to, but never took for granted, the words that flowed freely onto the page when she sat in the same chair, her things arranged around her. But since Yogi had arrived, something fundamental had changed. She could feel it but didn’t fully understand it. His stories had crept silently through her armour and warmed the bitter hole that had been her heart since M
ax and Lara had gone. And now it was sadness that flooded out of her, not words, and it would not stop.
Since Yogi had given her the stone, she had taken to holding it in her left hand as she let her pen hover over the blank page. She rolled it absently with her fingers until the cool white surface was suffused with the heat of her blood. Sometimes she just held it tightly, willing it to save her.
She hadn’t been able to tell Yogi why she had been crying. The words choked in her throat, burned her mouth. She looked forward to Friday and his next story with a frightened pleasure.
“Once upon a time there was a farm where chickens lived very happily,” he begins. “One day an evil crow arrived and disrupted their peaceful life. The crow wanted to be their leader but he spoke cruelly and was mean to the chickens. The chickens became very unhappy and they asked the strongest of them, a big black rooster, to make the crow go away but the crow was clever and outwitted the rooster then became even crueler.
During this time of unhappiness, one of the chickens laid some eggs and soon there were tiny yellow chicks running all around the farm. One day, when the mother chicken was not looking, the evil crow swooped down and grabbed one of the chicks. Before the crow could fly away with the chick, the mother chicken cried out and rushed to attack the crow. She was fearless even although the crow was much bigger and stronger that she was. The crow was so surprised that he let the tiny chick go. Then he stumbled on the ground and the rooster and the other chickens crowded around him and chased him away from the farm. When the chickens asked the mother chicken why she had been so brave, she replied that a mother’s love can conquer anything.
Yogi finished his story quietly and looked up. Charlotte eyes were wet and fixed on him. “I have a story for you,” she said and began.
Comments
My goodness what a challenge. This is a new turn for me so I’m walking in the dark again for the next chapter. This chapter is so well crafted. When something as excellent as this has a couple of editorial irks they stand out. (than instead of that and close dialog at end of story) That apart the last three sentences of the first paragraph are so superb I was drawn into Charlotte’s state of mind and inner feelings. You have to totally give yourself up to the character you are creating in order to take the reader’s away from the reality of their mundane lives and for a short magical moment transport them into another believable world. This is a great example of succeeding in just that. Always a pleasure to read you, Donna. I hope you will be thinking of writing a whole serial of your own very soon. Thank you for ten minutes of great pleasure as I rested from writing with a cup of tea today.
Follow this serial from the beginning http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/w...
Isia’s Secret – 2nd Edition
By Suraya on October 4, 2013
Format: Kindle Edition and print – also on audio
`Isia’s Secret’ is Raymond Stone’s second novel.
This is an author who is developing his craft with each novel he puts out. In Isia’s Secret he takes the reader to a new level of enjoyment. Set with the Mediterranean in the background he took me down dark alleys where I witnessed shady deals.
He builds tension, crafts his story line and leaves me wanting to know more as the story unfolds.
As some background; Isia has a secret which could bring down a powerful Greek shipping magnate, Paul Hriscopalis. If this secret comes out his ambition to be elected to the EU and influence decisions over Cyprus will be thwarted.
It all comes to a head on a cruise from London to Cyprus on the pretext of returning the Elgin Marbles. Enda, banished from writing hard news defies his editor when he begins unravelling the mystery instead of writing the politically neutral story of the return of the Elgin Marbles.
The stories behind Isia’s death, the inauthentic grandson who stands to inherit Hriscopalis’ empire and the haunting story of his own parent’s death drive investigative journalist Enda aided by researcher Jessica come together in a massive explosion aboard Hriscopalis’ cruise ship.
Great story. A lot of fun. Plenty of pace. I look forward to Raymond’s next novel.
I recommend it.
Suraya Dewing,
CEO
The Story Mint.
September 17, 2015
SHARMARAK by Ray stone
I wrote this as an idea – something to do when all else ceased to function in my brain. What at the time seemed an almost childish idea turned into something a little more serious. A few people have read this and all have encouraged me to ‘have a go.’ So after the current book I am working on I am going to start on this and see if I have enough gray matter to develop the plot.
© 2012
Toward the end of the twenty-sixth century, a ship carrying one thousand pioneers discovered a new galaxy trillions of miles from a dying Earth. A planet, supported by a sun and two moons became their home. They found the remains of a long dead civilization and the remnants of a manufacturing process that purified sea water with a white crystalline substance. On a wall in an ancient mine some hieroglyphics were uncovered. Unknown to the pioneers, the symbols depicted a mighty battle between good and evil and the end of the ancient civilization. They also warned of the return of evil. A thousand years went by before the symbols meant something to a handful of worried leaders. The meaning remained secret and the mine was blocked and declared unsafe – but not forever.
Interior Committee Findings.
Ref: Hieroglyphics – mine DR2790
Strictly non-public domain
The following is as near as possible a complete transcript of the hieroglyphics on the wall in DR2790. I have no hesitation in recommending we seal this mine and make it government land. Whether the prediction is true or not, I see no reason to follow this line of enquiry any further.
Senator G.S.Swift
Committee Chairman.
Starts – King Lam fought a war with Lord Grondal, an ex-faithful advisor to the King. Grondal had recruited an army from the distant Marsh Uplands where the hostile warriors and their leader, Prince Hragg, had always been in dispute with the king over territorial rights to Sharmarak. Grondal wanted to seize power from the King and in order to do this he needed control over the vast desert called the Merindil Sea. Potar crystal mines situated on one side of the desert supplied all the water purification needs of the king’s people and the Marsh Uplands. Without the crystals, both would perish.
The mines formed an important part of Grondal’s plan to rule and enslave the inhabitants of Sharmarak. Once accomplished, his next objective was to seize power in Asima, which lay a great distance to the south of Sharmarak, rich in minerals and inhabited by a peaceful race of people. Having promised the Prince and his marsh warriors one of the outposts and its inhabitants as slaves, Grondal set up his headquarters in the Prince’s ‘Uplands Castle’. After declaring war on the King, the two forces met to do battle in the middle of the Merindil Sea. The onslaught from the Marshland warriors killed all of the Kings army, driving the King and a few followers back across the desert and into the foothills and the mines.
In a last ditch effort to stop Grondal, the King ordered all the mines except one to be spelled poison by the court sorcerer, Roderick the Mighty, thus ensuring enough crystals to keep his own followers and the inhabitants of three outposts alive. The King retreated to the last mine which lay hidden in the Kasben foothills. Leaving a small band of men to work it, he sought out Grondal and died heroically in a dual to the death after refusing to reveal the location of the mine.
Grondal sent his armies to find the last mine that would keep them alive but, unable to find it and without pure water, the men of evil perished. Before facing death, Grondal’s sorcerer, Zarden, entombed him and Prince Hragg plus one hundred of their best warriors in the vaults beneath the castle and spelled the last mine flooded. Zarden also made the entombed men immortal so that on awakening, they would be able to exact their vengeance and rule the kingdom. But they would awaken only when the mines started producing Potar crystals again.
Unable to thwart Zarden’s powerful spell, Roderick the Mighty conjured a potion that if mixed with the immortals’ blood in combat, would bring instant death. Roderick knew that it would take a special warrior to defeat Grogan. And so he safely hid the potion in a secret place at the mine with instructions that could only be understood by such a man; instructions that would only appear when that man entered the mine.
Following these instructions closely the warrior would have to overcome many dangers before finding the potion. Even then, he would still have to enter the dark Marshlands and travel through the Festoid Forest before reaching the Uplands. Once there, he and his followers would have to kill the immortals by running their potion covered swords through the enemy and save the kingdom from tyranny and destruction. – Ends © 2012
Stay Together – Chapter 3 by Roseyn
The afternoon had changed, mutated into something wild and ugly.
High pitch sirens barrelled through the once quiet street, red and blue lights intermittently flashed. Bright, yellow tape with the words ‘CRIME SCENE-DO NOT ENTER’ boldly printed in black, imprisoned the said area. People in blue uniforms and white coats swarmed, some inside the tape, some out. Orders were loud and impatient, occasionally drowning out the tireless drone of inquisitive bystanders. Trolley beds rumbled, children cried as their terrified parents eagerly channelled them to safety.
Phil stood by the kerb, speechless, helpless, useless. A cold, alien sensation stiffened his muscles, knotted his queasy stomach.
This isn’t happening, he thought. Perhaps, it’s all just a mistake… a horrible misunderstanding. Perhaps Harry will appear any minute, wearing that impish grin that was purely his, his wide, cerulean eyes sparkling and saying, ‘Gotcha, Dad.’
But as every empty, painful minute passed, Phil’s hope slowly diminished.
A female police officer stood nearby, asking questions. Phil didn’t answer, his head too crowded with his own questions.
To his rear, slow, even footsteps sounded, then stopped.
Phil turned, found himself faced with a short, stocky man. The man immediately reminded Phil of a feral fox with his sharp, narrow, facial features and his shrewd, murky grey eyes. His silvery hair was slicked back, not a single strand out of place, as perfect as his creaseless suit.
He introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Harrington. To Phil, his voice sounded oily, arrogant.
“Mr Thomas,” he said, “I need you to come inside. It’s important we talk to you and your wife together.”
He hadn’t thought of Mary since her friend, Beryl, coaxed her inside. By then Mary was a mass of floundering muscles and non-stop tears.
Phil gazed towards the street’s end. “I c… can’t… my boy might come and….”
“Please, Mr Thomas. In situations such as these, the first twenty-four hours is crucial.”
Phil rubbed his brow, suppressed the urge to inform Detective what-ever-his-name, that Harry was not a situation. Harry was his son, charming, vibrant and so very loving. Pain stabbed his chest and he groaned. Nearby a woman’s hearty laugh invaded the dismal atmosphere like a poisonous intruder.
Phil bleakly nodded to the Inspector and shadowed him to Phil’s home.
The first thing Phil noticed was the backyard appearing as if someone had just pressed the evacuation button. The only visible life surrounding the half-empty platters of food were a cloud of ravenous flies. The once firm bouncy castle sloped dejectedly to one side. A paper cup scurried across the lawn.
With rolled down shoulders, Phil turned and entered the house.
Mary sat curled on their floral sofa, twisting tissues until bits tumbled to the floor, Beryl loyally beside her.
Mary’s complexion was unusually ashen, her eyes red and sunken. “Phil, … oh… Phil,” she said. “I’m so sorry….”
“Sorry?” Phil shrugged. “For what?”
Fresh tears welled and tumbled down Mary’s face. “I didn’t think it mattered,” she whispered. “I really didn’t think it mattered.”
September 7, 2015
Suspend agents’ disbelief and hook them in
During the first year of serials we had our first serious debate between writers about the phrase ‘suspended disbelief.’ I also answered a critic who slammed one of my books regarding the same subject a few months later.
From ‘Love the Critic’ – an article I posted in the Edit Lounge at www.raystoneauthor.co.uk
Fiction contains a certain amount of SD. I wonder how this reviewer would get on with all the totally unbelievable plots in James Bond.
What does the phrase ‘suspended disbelief’ mean? Our Asian writers might be more familiar with the subject as a lot of their wonderful stories involve spiritualism, myths, and fantasies.
I was recently reading a story that involved a magical box. The hero, a young Indian, found the box with a mirror inside that he could write on with a special pen. After writing each message they soon disappeared and another message magically appeared in its place.
You might think this is way over the top and that it’s silly and childish. But is it? If you stop to think about it, SD is part of every writer’s make-up. It’s part of our creative writing process. Look no further than Ian Fleming, a naval intelligence officer who created James Bond. Why do we still have a Bond movie produced every two years or so? We cannot believe that his exploits would actually take place in real life and yet we keep watching – why?
The stories are exciting and the plots draw us in along with memorable characters. For two hours we suspend our disbelief in the absurd motor-cycle chase across market place rooftops. The ski chase that ends with a free-fall parachute jump is breath-taking. And then, finally, Bond wrapped around the beautiful girl inside a survival pod at sea complete with a bottle of champagne. Wow!
All of this is escapist imagery and the audience enjoy it every time. They are on the edge of their seats feeling angry with the bad guy and cheering on Bond. This works for one reason and one only and it is something an agent will feel in the pit of their stomach and see in his or her mind’s eye.
The writer has worked hard at producing a story full of great characters that are believable – and that, I believe is the key. He or she has also written a great plot – mainly unbelievable but exciting. Now mix the two. We have characters doing things that might be super-human or plain impossible. However, because they show emotion and courage and their actions excite, the reader (agent) suspends disbelief as the characters act out the plot in a make-believe fantasy world. Agents are looking for writers who can produce work that catches the imagination and sells in today’s technological and traditional markets.
Suraya Dewing, our CEO, is a regular contributor/reviewer of books and her views are popular on Goodreads. The following example is a quote from her latest review that shows how much she feels the strength of the character whilst suspending disbelief and enjoying the plot. I found myself pausing every so often to ask why I kept reading Shaun’s gruesome tale. I realised the reason was that I found Shaun a fascinatingly complex character and in some ways, I empathised with him. Later, she writes, The thing is the author creates believable scenarios for believable circumstances and that takes real writing skill.
Science fiction is a great example of SD – look at Star Trek or The X – Files. SD is a pause button that disappears when the subject matter becomes reality. One of my heroes believed nothing was beyond our imagination
The limits of the possible can only be defined by going beyond them into the impossible. Arthur C. Clarke
There are several Sci-fi and Surreal serials at the Story Mint. Take a look and enjoy. Writing is one of the most rewarding past-times in life. Sign up for a chapter in one of our serials and become a ‘Minter’ addict.
Ray Stone
Publishing Manager
August 31, 2015
2nd edition of Isia’s Secret
from…just E published 2nd edition of Isia’s Secret – shortly in print and available on audio
I stood halfway up the white stone steps leading into the elegant Ciragan Palace hotel. A faint odor of pollution coming from traffic crossing the Bosphorus Bridge spoiled the invigorating fresh sea air. On the European bank, the view across to the other half of the city reminded me of my first trip many years before as a student.
The distant noise of the opposite waterfront and a skyline of minarets and golden domes injected mixed memories. For just a moment I was a graduate again. It was still a vibrant city, boasting architecture through Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman periods and an intriguing mixed ethnic culture. That same excitement I felt the last time filled my senses again but this time there was a sense of purpose. This wasn’t a nostalgic trip, more a trip into an uncertain future.
August 29, 2015
DIALOGUE WITH A MESSAGE INSIDE THE AGENT’S HEAD
Dialogue is the glue that holds a book together. When I sit and write I become each of my characters in turn. I’m an actor in my head and my tone of voice and feelings change as each character takes the stage to perform. How do we make the dialogue come alive? It isn’t hard but it takes practice and patience and before you know it you are riding a bike and changing dialogue gears without giving your mind and itching fingers a second thought. So how do we write unforgettable dialogue that holds the reader’s attention?
Know your character well. Don’t just give a character a name and gender and a physical appearance. We need to know what thoughts are running through his head and whether he is angry or sad. Dialogue written properly will let us know this and a lot more. More importantly, the audience will start to have empathy or dislike for characters as you disclose their real make-up. If you listen to fellow passengers on a bus or train you will hear conversation that depicts dreams or ambitions or an enthusiastic expansion of the factual information regarding a moment of success for example. Most conversations are not entirely truthful. What readers find interesting is what the character is not revealing. In life, most people are trying to hide something.
“I thought I’d have it cut short this time,” said Mary, looking in the mirror. “What do you think?”
George nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, it’s very nice. Bit short but…very nice, dear.”
“Well it’s summer and hot. I hate having long hair to deal with.” Mary’s fingers brushed the hair either side down over her ears.
A reader would be right if they thought both Mary and George were not exactly truthful. Mary had her hair cut but George seemed not entirely satisfied so he voiced his concern but added he liked the new style. Mary was ready with her answer by the looks of things. However, in giving her answer she also sub-consciously acknowledged George’s concern by flattening the hair over her ears so it looked longer.
These are just three short sentences of dialogue yet they say such a lot about the characters. Mary is a little insecure and obviously eager to please George. George is more self-confident and is not afraid to give an opinion but he is also a diplomat and gentleman. In three sentences of dialogue we know a lot about these two, not so much by the conversation but by what is going through their minds as they speak.
Listen to how people speak. You don’t have to write in dialect but you will find characters from a different part of the country have a different way of talking or explaining themselves.
“Anyway, guv, I’m going to get back to the fire. My feet are killing me now. The bloody snow has got into my trainers. I’ll call you tomorrow when I check out that kraut address.”
Now here is a working class character who for want of better description, shortens words and drops H’s. Yet I have not written in his dialect except for a couple of hints. ‘Anyway, guv’ and ‘kraut address’ and the word ‘bloody’ we can picture him. We don’t have to bore the reader who will give up trying to decipher what is said if we write in dialect.
Anyway guv, I’m gonna’ get back ta fire. Ma plates a-meat are killin’ me naw. The bloody snows got inta me trainers. I’ll call yer tommora’ when I check out that kraut address.
Terrible, isn’t it? To portray the character we just need to insert a couple of traits and the odd mild swear word that is part of working class vocabulary. In writing each character think about their dialect and just hint or use repetitious words like ‘guv’ .
Dialogue is also used to understand a character’s feelings like embarrassment when they are not involved directly as two other people are having a conversation. Although the dialogue is moving the story along it also serves to add another dimension to the main character’s make-up.
The main character has just set eyes on a gay man wearing lipstick at a posh art reception in London.
Jessica turned and smiled as the man blew a kiss past both her cheeks. “Darling, this is Cecil Douglas-Horner, a wonderful friend and colleague. He’s art correspondent for the Mirror.”
I held a hand out smartly. “Nice to meet you too, Cecil.”
We shook and Cecil looked into my eyes with a mischievous grin. “So nice to meet you, Enda, I’ve always been a fan of sharp wit and good political insight. I was so annoyed when you got married.” He looked at Jessica and pursed his lips. “You won him fair and square dear, I don’t hold it against you.”
A little giggle escaped Jessica’s lips. She put a hand to her mouth and grinning, looked sideways at me, her eyes willing me not to say a word.
A little comic and witty but see the embarrassment for Jessica’s husband and how Jessica is more used to this environment. This kind of short dialogue interlude as the story unfolds gives the book more depth and everyday realism. Again the reader is seeing and sensing something that is invisible within the dialogue.
Only you can make this happen. This is why it is important to set the scene within which your characters are playing. As you animate them, look around them and picture everything before giving them a voice. The scene and characters must become one.
If you would like more advice on this or any other aspect of creative writing why not join us and book to write a chapter for one of the many serials we are running at any one time. We are here to advise and make your writing experience an enjoyable one among our community of talented writers.
Ray Stone
Publishing Manager
August 21, 2015
Agents Love You Writing With Colour
Does your pen write with a boring black ink or have you got an ink mixture of many different colours that bring your story alive? That’s what agents will be asking themselves as they open your manuscript.
Before you write another word think about the reader you are entertaining with your wonderful story. I make no secret about loving Charles Dickens who captivated my imagination from an early age. I walk around the streets of London, touching his characters’ and listening to them talk and shout. I see and smell the scenery. I am caught up in the social ills of society and wrong-doings of devious villains of the day. Dickens pulls at my emotions, making me sad, glad, angry and thoughtful. I can’t help it. I have to read on. How does he do that?
The answer is very simple. When you have an outline for your work you also have a fantastic plot and characters in mind. But will the agent get past the first five pages or will they be bored. Here are some tips.
Set the scene immediately so we know where and if possible, when. John took his eyes off the newspaper photo of President Carter for a moment to look down on Coral Bay and the sprawling metropolis of Pafos baking in 90 degrees. We know who, where, when, and what it feels like in one sentence. We set the scene.
Introduce the character so we can see him and find out what he looks like and maybe what’s going on in his life. He brushed a few strands of grey hair out of his eyes, cuffed sweat from the side of his unshaven chin and thought about Andros. Crossing his long legs, he picked up the chilled glass and gulped the cold beer. We know he is middle aged, is unshaven, is sweating in the heat and is thinking about a Greek man. In a few paragraphs time you can continue to describe John. If he is a main character spread his description out within a couple of chapters.
What’s going on around John? There was a loud crash as a small red truck hit a deep pot hole as it pulled into the Blue Pelican Taverna parking lot and jerked to a stop in a cloud of dust. We know where John is and what is happening around him and can hear something going on. We also have something else going on. We know what a chilled beer tastes like but we feel a little irritated that John’s drink might be spoiled by a cloud of dust drifting across the parking lot. Can you begin to see and feel?
Now let’s see what that all looks like written with a pen filled with black ink.
John took his eyes off the paper he was reading and looked down on the bay. He brushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes and wiped sweat from his face. Thinking of Andros, he crossed his legs and picked up a glass of beer. A red pick-up crashed over a pot hole as it drove into the tavern parking lot and came to a halt in a cloud of dust.
So which version is more entertaining? The second version leaves me wanting to know who John is and what he looks like and is this story in the future or the past? And where on earth is Coral Bay? The agent has got no further and rejected this uninteresting work even though it may be well written.
As you write think colour all the time. Be in the picture and talk to the characters. If they are eating fish and chips eat with them and smell the salt and vinegar. If they are drunk let us know about the divorce or the hurt they have caused someone else, perhaps someone they love.
There are hundreds of images, smells, locations, characters’ make up and speech that should be going through your mind as you tackle each and every paragraph. Make it come alive in vivid colour. Practice makes perfect.
So book a chapter in our serials and have a go. Next time – Dialogue that agents love and hate.
ABOVE ALL – HAVE FUN.
Ray Stone
Publishing Manager
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