Creative Writing Course – Week #25
This week’s class was the last week of the writing course – forever! 
That meant handing in our third chapters for marking, along with a synopsis for the novels we’d been working on over the last three terms. Luckily for me, we’re not being marked on the synopsis, it’s just to accompany the chapters we’ve submitted. There are a thousand different ways to write the plot synopsis for a novel, and it’s even harder if you haven’t finished it and are not too sure how it ends anyway. Reading my synopsis back, it almost read like ‘…and he woke up and it was all a dream’ at the end, such was my haste to wrap it up. Not to worry, the events in the synopsis won’t survive the actual writing of the novel I suspect.
As for the lesson itself, it was mostly spent hearing passages read from everyone’s third chapters. This was really interesting as it showed how much progress had been made since the beginning of the first term. I opted for a passage that introduces one of my main characters, his first appearance in the novel. I’ve added it below. Here we meet Jimmy Cleavis, the flashy drug dealer who operates a network of dealers that peddle the heroin that his Kurdish paymasters bring into the country…
~
Jimmy Cleavis drained the last of the Chrystal champagne from his glass, then clicked his fingers at the waiter to bring another bottle. He didn’t even like champagne that much. He just liked to be seen drinking it. The waiter gave a discrete nod and stepped out of the private dining suite at the rear of the Belgravia House Hotel.
Across the table from him sat his long-term business partner, Leon, and Leon’s wife Marcia. Next to Cleavis was Lauren, his girlfriend of the past ten years. Together they occupied the only table in a room that had to be booked the best part of six months in advance. Like always, Cleavis picked up the tab. He often joked that he was probably the only guest to pay the bill in cash. The expensive restaurant and indiscreet displays of conspicuous wealth were all part of Cleavis’ carefully stage-managed persona. His bad table manners and handfuls of bank notes were his personal ‘fuck you’ to refined and respectable establishments such as this. Ultimately, money brought him anything he wanted.
“I was telling your husband, Marcia, about how he’ll be holding the fort while I fuck off to the Maldives with Lauren for two weeks,” Cleavis said, pointing a silver fork at Leon.
Marcia giggled and placed a hand on Leon’s arm. He smiled and shrugged.
“Well, someone’s got to make sure things get done properly. Can’t trust paperwork to illiterate twats like Jimmy, can we?” Leon retorted. A ripple of laughter swept round the room.
The door opened and the waiter reappeared, but without the champagne Cleavis had ordered. “Mr Cleavis, there’s some gentlemen to see you.”
“What? This is a private dining room. I don’t take fucking visitors when I’m eating. Tell them I’m busy.”
“The gentlemen are very persistent -”
“I don’t give a fuck what they are. Tell them to fuck off.”
The waiter shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “Perhaps you’d like to speak to them in the hallway, sir.”
“No. I’m not going to them, bring them in here,” Cleavis demanded, throwing down his white cotton napkin.
The waiter stepped outside, pulling the door to behind him. The rest of the table looked on in silence, intrigued by the unannounced visitors. Lauren glanced across at Cleavis. His face was a screwed up ball of rage, a sight she’d seen all too often and didn’t want to experience it over dinner at an expensive restaurant.
The door opened and the waiter was barged aside by two heavy-set men. Standing side-by-side in the doorway they filled the space. Neither of them were dressed for dinner at this restaurant. One wore tracksuit bottoms and a polo shirt, the other faded jeans and a shirt with buttons that were straining to contain his girth. Cleavis knew who they were. It was Ozi and Mamir. And he knew who had sent them. He just didn’t know why.
“Baba wants to see you. Now.” Ozi said. He spoke directly to Cleavis, as if the others weren’t present.
“Can it wait? I’m almost finished here,” Cleavis’ indignation about being disturbed had vanished, evaporating the moment he saw the two Kurds walk into the room.
“No,” Mamir replied. He stepped aside to show Cleavis the doorway.
Cleavis wiped his mouth with his napkin, gave an apologetic glance to his dinner guests and stood. He touched Lauren’s shoulder as he walked away from the table, then paused to hand the waiter a wad of bank notes. Then he was gone, walking down the corridor flanked by Ozi and Mamir.
~
And then we all went to the pub, where most of us made excuses as to why we hadn’t done more writing over the last six months. Now that the course is finished, I’ll be able to spend Wednesday nights with this dude, who always almost knocks me over when I get back late from the class each week:
