Instructor Response

A new member of the writing forum is nervous that the admired novelist will regret inviting her to join.

This little fear of rejection began twenty-three years and two months ago, a day she will remember throughout her lifetime as the day of the evening she met him, a young man reserved and handsome in the way she liked: he, a promising writer and scholar.

The young woman wrote a poem inspired by her love for the young man.

Proudly holding the note close to her heart, she walked into his room. The young woman carefully placed it in the middle of the desk, knowing that he would see the soft ivory stationary atop the dark oak. Anticipating his arrival and so pleased in knowing she created something beautiful to give to him.

He slowly opened the door to the room, nodding to the young woman the same way he had the first time they met and handsome in the way she liked.

She observed Him reading each verse and then watching his hand reaching for a red pen, the ink blanketing the words, the delicate paper, the poem shredded, ruined by the paler in a heavy hand.

Recalling the criticism of the person she most trusted opened the old wounds to the present day paused for a moment. Twenty-three years and two months before her reading the excerpt from the novel “I’m In The Room”, by the forum novelist and meeting the main character Allen.

Allen is a young man from a small town making big plans for the next chapter of his life as a college student. Allen is introduced to the reader as the all-American boy longing for acceptance and on par with protagonists’ 20th-century American literature. We see Allen as our son, our nephew, our kin.

Allen, the pedigree unique to 20th-century American writing as the prized sporting breed taking first place in the arena; stylized as the signature brand unique to American Literature, oversized and abundantly good for the heart and soul enriched with an understanding of the collective human experience of yearning for approval . An ever-present optimistic view of love, family, success, and winning.

The main character Allen has a sensibility true to the standard. . The published author creates Allen in line with the fine tradition and reverence of the past.

I wrote this today feeling the warmth and the burn of an old flame.

RESPONSE

Well done. No critique necessary or appropriate. You have your own unique style and presentation. And you have achieved what I believe you wanted to achieve, telling your story in your own way.

For what it’s worth, I had difficulty in following the story line and wasn’t sure about the purpose of the story, what idea or emotions you wanted me to take away from the reading. Overall, was confused about the emotional timeline of the action and the change from in scene to narrative, primarily descriptive, writing. It’s all stylistic, and justifiable, so just take my reactions as one reader’s “take away.”

You certainly have a gift. All the best in your writing career.
Thanks for contributing,
WHC

Instructor Response

Hi Cathryn,

(As a favor–I admit it’s for brand recognition primarily–when referring to me, please spell the last name as COLES, not Cole.)

You’ve a nice scene going here. However, it has a stilted quality and there is a pervasive question as to whether this could really happen. And the scene effectiveness (ability to engage and entertain) could be improved. You want to immerse the reader in the scene and avoid giving the sense that the author is telling the scene, a scene that is far away. Instead the author grips the reader’s attention in writing and presentation so the reader forgets they are reading a description of a story and experiences an immediacy, feels emotions, conflicts, suspense (reader becomes a part of the story). The reader engages in the imagery, accepts what the characters are saying and thinking, and feels the momentum. (You might think of John Gardner’s concept of continuous involvement in the “fictional dream,” which requires avoidance of anything in the storytelling that breaks that dream and draws attention outside the bubble of the story as it unfolds.) All this has to do with how a story is constructed, and learning what causes breaks in the fictional dream: lack of credibility, inappropriate syntax, misspellings, inaccurate word choice or metaphor, lack of coherence among ideas, authorial intrusions, offensive thoughts, improbable action, poor vocabulary sources, verbosity, grammar errors, unimportant ideas, excessive description, etc.

Reader involvement is not easy to teach because much of it is subjective and individual to the author. Yet there are ways of thinking and expression that can help attain consistent reader engagement and emotional connection. I’ll give a few ideas that might relate to your scene, but there are many things to learn that are discovered by studying great stories you love.

1. Consider, for a moment, that stories are simply information organized to get an idea across in a believable way with involvement in story. What might we consider as crucial information in your story-scene?

Airplane in flight.

Flight attendant. Pilot. First Officer.

Passenger who suspects doctor.

Suspicious-looking doctor who is not guilty.

Seatbelt “repaired” before takeoff causing delay.

Bomb implanted at seatbelt installation when “repaired.”

Bomb explodes at “seatbelt” seat.

Nervous passenger.

Based on this list, I’ve highlighted unnecessary and non-relevant ideas, descriptions, characters, excess words.

Examples of extraneous ideas unrelated to story (RED) of material unrelated to story momentum (GREY). Verbosity is underlined.

Coles Assignment # 6

Transway Air flight 92 cruised at 500 mph above a blanket of white, softly-mounded clouds floating in an azure-blue sky. The commercial plane’s departure from the busy cosmopolitan airport terminal was forty-five minutes behind schedule—delayed for repairs.  The first officer discovered of a faulty seatbelt during the required pre-flight cabin inspection.  

The aircraft’s bathroom door opened. A tall man wearing a well-fitting dark suit exited. His burnished brown face was accented by the white turban wrapped around his head. Dark sunglasses shaded his eyes. He strode to seat 28-A carrying a black briefcase.

“Excuse me, Miss, what do you make of that guy?” the inebriated business-class passenger seated in 20-A asked the female flight attendant wheeling the food cart down the aisle.

“Is there a problem, sir?”  Paula’s foot shifted the cart’s wheel-brake lever, and she leaned close to the man.

“Third time he’s been to the bathroom to piss since we took off,” the man said. His breath smelled of alcohol.

“Kind of suspicious, you know,” said his neighbor in seat 20-B. “There’s been talk in the news about possible terrorist attacks.”

Paula dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. The latest bulletin from NTAS warned of an imminent terrorist attack. Her main concern was allying fears, avoiding pandemonium among the passengers at forty-two thousand feet.

“He’s one of them.” The passenger wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead.

“Relax, sir.” Paula pressed a bag of peanuts into his beefy hand.

“God knows what’s in his black bag,” the woman seated across the aisle chimed in. “And why the sunglasses?” 

Paula looked at the wary, worried faces of the passengers staring at her. Her trembling fingers fidgeted with the blue scarf around her neck. Caution was required when informing Captain Jackson of a possible terrorist on board.

“Sir, nothing to worry about,” Paula announced loudly with false heartiness. “We should reach Denver in time for your conference. I’ll express your concerns to the pilot.”

Walking down the aisle to the tail of the plane, Paula peered at the passenger seated in 28-B. The black bag was on his lap.

“Hand me the in-flight digital tablet,” she said tersely to the male flight attendant.

“Checking on the passenger registration list, Paula?” he asked.

Seat 21-B was assigned to a Dr. Anish Amur. Could be just an average, law-abiding citizen.  She cupped her hand over the microphone and whispered, “Captain, we have a possible situation. Passengers fidgety. Suspected terrorist on board.”

#

“Oh, shit, Paula.”  In the cockpit, Captain Jackson’s eyes swept the instrument panel.  T [for] the closest airport.  It wasn’t equipped to accommodate large aircraft.  His hands remained steady on the control yoke. No time for panic.

First Officer Nancy Lew heard Paula’s message on the paired headsets she and the Captain were wearing.  “Credible threat, Captain?” she asked.

“We’ll have to find out, now won’t we?” He spoke into his headset.  “Paula, give me the particulars.”

Captain Jackson listened, asked a few questions, nodded, then said, “Okay, next time the guy leaves the bathroom, Paula, check it out. Keep the mic open. And speak up. The area microphone in here might catch the action.”

“What if she finds explosives?  In the bathroom?” The First Officer asked. “Paula might not be able to handle it. Her age and all?”

“She’ll handle it.  I’m not so sure about you.”

First Officer Nancy Lew muttered under her breath. She handled Jackson’s sexual peccadillos. Now this bastard’s unsure of her competency in the cockpit? She scanned the instrument panel bending her head to shield her burning cheeks.  Her new lover, an airport mechanic, thought her competent; his wink while repairing the damaged seatbelt before take-off affirmed his belief in her: she had followed directions explicitly. 

Captain Jackson saw a blip on his radar. The jet was approaching the nearest airport. His forehead puckered; too short a runway for landing a Boeing 747.  He radioed the control tower. “Transway Air flight 92. Possible terrorist on board.” [The runway was too short.]

“Captain Jackson?” Paula’s voice crackled over the headphones. “He’s leaving the bathroom now. I’ll check it out. In a few minutes.”

“Good luck, Paula.”

Nancy Lew sniffed. “Trusting our fate to—”

“God damn it! And you would suggest?” Captain Jackson’s eyes blazed.

“Your gun, Captain.”

Captain Jackson, a trained Federal Flight Deck Officer, was permitted to possess  a firearm in the cockpit.

#

After the suspected terrorist exited the restroom, Paula waited three minutes before entering.

She pulled on vinyl gloves and conducted a methodical searched: the commode, the urinal, the stainless-steel sink, cabinets and overhead bins. Rummaged in the wastebasket, checked the paper towel dispenser, pulled the toilet paper roll and inspected the holder.

“Nothing,” she said. But why did the man carry the black bag with him into the bathroom? What was in it? Paula decided she’d force Dr. Anish Amur’s hand.

Stepping out of the restroom, Paula fell heavily, twisting her leg under her. Her screams were heard; over the area microphone in the cockpit.

Passengers gasped, stood up and began [a few] rushed down the aisle.

“Return to your seats,” instructed the male flight attendant announced. speaking over the intercom. And buckle your seatbelts.”

“Make way. Please, make way. I am a doctor.”  Dr. Anish Amur, carrying his case, rushed to Paula’s side, knelt beside her, and opened his black case.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” shouted the passenger in seat 20-A. “He’s got a bomb.”

The cockpit door opened. Captain Jackson aimed the gun he was holding at the Doctor’s head.

“No!” Paula screamed. She sat up and threw herself against Dr. Amur’s chest. “The bag. Hold only medical equipment,” the doctor said.

placed beneath her seat detonated.

These changes are only to give you an idea about how an author might bring the reader into the scene. And note that once you change something, inevitably something else will need to be changed. Like painting a portrait, one change usually demands another.

2.

It’s helpful to get things in order and to prioritize and place what you need in a scene by imagining the scene in detail. Some authors, like film producers, use a storyboard to sketch out each scene. This helps avoid the unnecessary and the redundant, and helps find the right detail to stimulate the reader’s imagination to complete the scene images, with accurate positioning and prioritization.

Keep up the good work. Thanks for the submission.

All the best,

Bill Coles

1/14/19

Instructor Response

Comments

Elizabeth breathed deeply and cupped her hand over the microphone. “Captain, we have a suspicious passenger in seat 28B.” Sliding her finger down the passenger manifest, she added, “His name is Henry Bradey.”

“What do you mean, suspicious?” Howard asked.

She imagined a sneer on his face. She would have notified him earlier, as soon as Bradey’s first trip to the rest room, but she didn’t want to suffer his attitude. “He’s been to the rest room three times, and he takes a black satchel with him. He looks Arabic. I think Bradey must be a false name.”

“You’re profiling him because he looks foreign. TSA checks these things.”

“But the terror alert is red. I’m scared.” I’d delete this; it sounds like misplaced or unnecessary exposition, and is therefore ineffective dialogue. “I’m scared.” is better standing alone here.

“I’ll send Tim back.”

“We shouldn’t Don’t alarm the passenger. Who knows what he might do.” This is a tense situation. Keep dialogue tight, sparse.

“Well, you know Tim. He’s discreet. Tim is descreet.”

Tim, the first officer, was the least discreet person she knew, but at least he was reasonable. Howard, a smallish man, proper and trim, looked as if he were born in a uniform. Tim, at least six-two, ballooned out of his uniform as if it couldn’t contain him.  Good.

“Where is he?” Tim asked. They stood at the edge of first class. Elizabeth nodded her head, ever so slightly.

“He looks kind of crazed, but not all that Arabic, more like a drugged-out has-been rock star.” Tim said.

“He looks like an Arab to me. Don’t stare at him,” she whispered.

Tim nodded, “Keep us updated. I’ll tell Howard this guy could be for real.”

When Tim told Howard, Back in the cockpit, Howard gave Tim a disgusted look and said, “Take the controls, I’ll call for an emergency landing. We’re only twenty minutes out of Pittsburgh.”  “We’re twenty minutes out. Take the controls. I’ll call for direct access. Emergency.” I think this has a more spoken feel.

“Why don’t I Go back there and clock the guy!”

“Against protocol.”

“Not if we are in imminent danger. If he has a bomb, He could trigger a bomb at any time. I’ll take him by surprise. He won’t know what hit him. I could surprise him.”

“It’s my call. I say we Sit tight.”

“Son of a bitch, you’ll get us killed.” Tim loosened his tie, but took the controls.

 Howard’s hand shook felt Tim’s eyes on him and he cursed himself for being unable to keep a steady hand as he took the radio. and his voice wavered when he talked to the tower. [Note: there were too many words here, and the rhythmic progression got out of whack.] He hated Tim for what he must think of him, but he managed to arrange the landing. “They’ll have a S.W.A.T. team and Hazmat there. We’ll have to circle divert until SWAT and Hazmat are there.”  until they are ready.” [This is getting the dialogue as succinct as possible without losing meaning, and without using dialogue that sounds like exposition.]

Tim wouldn’t look at him. looked away. [Avoid negative construction here. It stops momentum.]

Howard contacted called Elizabeth. “Anything happening back there?”

“He’s still in his seat, but he’s nervous.” [The deleted metaphor was not exactly on target, and any metaphor in this dialogue will be difficult to pull off.]

“Don’t worry. We’re making an emergency landing in Pittsburgh. When we start the final descent, On final, tell the passengers it’s a mechanical problem. , but that there is No danger.”

“But won’t he guess we know about him and He’ll trigger the bomb!”

“Just do it. It’s regulation.”

Henry Bradey wanted to pray, something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He was surprised, but unafraid, that his moment of death was near. He never expected to get this far. At last, and his fate was in his hands alone. He was in control. His device was small, but powerful, and ready. His small, powerful device was ready; he’d checked it three times.

Once he’d calmed his soul and savored his accomplishment, he would set off the bomb.

Howard was nervous. He knew it would take time for ground control to get ready, but Tim had been circling They’d circled for forty minutes and hadn’t heard a word. “I’m going back to take a look,” he told his first officer. Tim who glanced at him but said nothing.

“Elizabeth, What’s he doing?” Howard whispered in her ear.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, not having heard him approach. “He’s settled down, but I don’t think he’s sleeping. He keeps a firm grasp on his bag.”

Howard looked at the suspect, just as Bradey opened his crazed eyes. Howard quickly looked away, but Bradey’s eyes had the look of madness. Elizabeth was right, he thought; this man was dangerous.

“I’m going to the rear ll check out the rest room to look around,” Howard said.

Howard sensed the suspect tightened his the grip on the satchel as he passed. Howard willed himself not to look back.

Inside the rest room, Howard found nowhere to hide a no explosive device. But then, he didn’t know much about these things. He should have let Tim subdue him. Now it may be too late.

It wasn’t prayer, but Bradey reached a trance-like state. When he opened his eyes, he saw the captain staring at him. It was no incidental glance.  Bradey, though, was calm. He readied his trigger when the captain approached, but relaxed as he passed by him, back to the restroom.

Certain the prissy captain would not discover where he placed the bomb; Bradey decided to wait until the captain came forward in the cabin. Then he would call out, “Oh, captain,” as he passed. When their eyes locked, he would press the button and wait for the recognition of what he had done to appear on the captain’s face.

Tim couldn’t sit wait any longer. He took the plane to a safe height, and set it to auto-pilot. Then he hurried to the passenger cabin. Bursting through the first class curtain, and past Elizabeth, he saw Howard rushing Bradey. Bradey reached into his satchel just as the captain struck him from behind. Tim, there in a flash, tore at the man’s arm with determined force. Elizabeth dislodged the bag from his weakened grasp.

Later, After the tension had eased within them, the flight crew reunited on the ground. Howard, tidy as ever despite the struggle, said, “You were right, Tim. I should have listened to you from the beginning.”

Elizabeth, flustered, looked at Howard in surprise. In all the time they worked together, she had never heard Howard admit a mistake.

Tim looked at Howard with mock disgust, “You just wanted the glory for yourself.”

Nicely done. I’ve mainly worked on prose, dialogue in particular. In this piece, often too many words express thoughts that are not needed. It’s about pacing, especially in a tense situation. And learn to identify exposition in dialogue in your revision process. Exposition in dialogue kills the effect of being in scene for the reader. You can get exposition in dialogue effectively at times, but it has to be skillful and not call attention to itself. Check the essay “Dialogue.”

Thanks for the submission!

WHC