Suspense

It’s often important, I think, to build up the level of suspense in a novel.  When the reader doesn’t know what’s going to happen, s/he will tend to want to read more, and will become more emotionally involved.  That emotional involvement usually means that the reader derives greater enjoyment from the book.

On the one hand, when the reader can predict exactly what’s going to happen, s/he will probably judge the book to be ‘boring’.  And, on the other hand, if the author uses too many devices to heighten suspense, or puts too many  twists and turns in the plot, the book (and the author) lose credibility.

Life is unpredictable.  We all know that.  So having some surprises in a book we read seems natural.  We all enjoy a good surprise, and a bad surprise can be quite stimulating, particularly if it isn’t real, and it’s happening to someone else (not us).

What kind of surprises could there be?  There are romantic surprises: will he or won’t he get the girl?  Court room surprises: will she or won’t she be acquitted?  There are business surprises: will it succeed or fail?  Sports surprises: does he or does he not win the medal?  And I’m sure you can think of at least a dozen other categories of surprises.

Another point to bear in mind is that surprises  don’t have to be binary: yes or no; win or lose.  Sometimes a surprise will come completely out of ‘left field’.  For example, you’ve been reading about Michael and Claire, who’ve just started dating.  The author leads you to wonder whether Michael and Claire will become a couple.  Sometimes you think ‘yes’ and at other times ‘no’. All of a sudden, Michael’s cousin, Jack, enters the picture, and sweeps Claire off her feet.  Then, you wonder what Michael is going to do.  Will he brood?  Will he try to punish Claire in some way? Or will he become the best man at the wedding?

So what are some of the devices an author can use to heighten suspense?

  • the structure of the plot can lead to uncertainty in the reader’s mind.  For example, in a murder mystery not enough evidence comes out that we know George is guilty.  Besides, there’s some evidence that Norman might be the guilty one.
  • what the characters do or say about an issue can influence our thinking.  What would you think if Norman hid a piece of evidence?
  • it’s not just the principal characters who influence things.  Suppose Margaret tells the police that she saw George do it, but you suddenly learn that Margaret and Norman have been having an affair.
  • mistakes can be made.  This is a device used frequently in operas.  For example in Il Trovatoreby Guiseppe Verdi, Count di Luna orders the  execution of Manrico who is his rival for the love of Leonora.  The Count finds out too late that Manrico was actually his brother.
  • miscommunications can take place
  • places can be different than what they seem at first
  • times and relationships  can be confused
  • and so on

I don’t know whether you have been watching Montalbano, the Italian series about the Sicilian detective Montalbano.  It’s currently running on BBC4 with English subtitles.  Montalbano is a very handsome, macho, detective who has an absolutely lucious girlfriend, and he always ‘gets his man’ because of his brilliance and his intuition.  My wife and I enjoy watching it.  I like the girlfriend.  My wife likes Montalbano and being able to watch a program in Italian.  We are both amused by the Sicilian culture on display: stupid Carabinieri (Italian police), for example.  But neither of us can follow the plot.  It has so many nuanced twists and turns that, unless you’re a professional crime detective watcher, it’s not worth following.

Website

Finally, my new website is finished!

You can have a look at www.williampeace.net

The home page has my biography (and a picture).  Then there is a page for each of my novels, which includes the publisher’s short description and a synopsis of the book.  There is also a sample chapter from each book.

My third novel, Efraim’s Eye, which has just been published, will have its own page.  Then there’s a fourth (and a fifth) novel in the pipeline!

Please note:  Fishing in Foreign Seas and Sin & Contrition are now available in e-book formats for about $9.99

Tell me what you think!

Oscars

My wife and I were watching the Oscars last night.  (We had recorded it Sunday night.)  And I got to thinking about the similarities and differences between making movies and writing books.  First of all, there are plenty of prizes awarded for each art form.  www.bookprizeinfo.com lists thirty-three prizes for books, and I’m sure this is not a complete list, as there are prizes awarded at regional and local book fairs – not to mention academic prizes.  While a brief Internet search failed to find a comprehensive list of prizes for films, it is clear that the Academy Awards – while perhaps the most prestigious – are far from the only awards for cinema.

There are various categories of awards for both films and books.  What do these awards seek to recognise?  It seems to me that the intention is to recognise excellence in the category.  And what would excellence be?  Well, excellence is certainly a bit subjective, but it would probably include such factors as advancing the state of the art, or the impact (intellectual and/or emotional) on the viewer/reader, popularity, contribution to culture, etc.

One major difference between the art of writing and the art of creating cinema is that the latter is, of necessity a team effort.  One has only to watch the long list of people whose names appear as the credits scroll down the screen at the end of a film to appreciate this.  This is not to say that a successful writer does not also work as part of a team.  He or she will have an editor, a publisher, and a publicist (perhaps all in one person).  While the writer cannot work alone, s/he is the one essential player in the literary arts.  After all, a writer can write a book and publish it on the Internet with the help of no one else.  As a consequence, there are awards for many of the specialist roles in the creation of a film: beyond actors, actresses, supporting and leading, there are directors, producers, writers, music composers, sound technicians, cinematographers, etc.  While in writing, only the book – rarely the  writer, editor, or publisher – wins the award.

The creative arts (cinema, literature, art, music, dance) all seek to please their audience, but they do this through different senses.  Art and literature through the eyes, although some sculpture begs to be touched, and these two art forms are usually the product of a single person (artist or writer). Cinema and dance are taken in through the eyes and ears; music through the ears, and, in the case of a performance, through the eyes, as well.  And these three arts are generally a team effort.  Moreover, the production of music, dance and particularly films are expensive undertakings, while the major expense in the production of art or literature is (only) the artist’s time.

How do I feel about all of this?  Well, I have no problem with the solitary nature of writing, or that its cost is largely my time.  What I wish for – from time to time – is a professional editor who is a friend and honest critic and who understands me, my strengths and weaknesses.

Reviews: Sin and Contrition

The following reviews have been posted on Amazon.com of Sin & Contrition:

by Kittty “Book Lover” (5 stars)

What is sin and what is contrition? In exploring these issues, Bill Peace has written a page turner in his new novel Sin and Contrition, as he follows the lives of three males and three females from early adolescence through middle age. As with all of us, these characters confront life’s issues – schooling, relationships, families, faith, careers all requiring choices. An additional character in the form of the pastor of a local church injects questions humans deal with throughout their lives – is there a God, does He act in our lives, and for Christians, what is the meaning of Jesus? A most intriguing and unique device is the “epilogue” where Mr. Peace interviews each one of the characters and asks them to examine their consciences, so to speak. As they look back on their lives, do they have any regrets? What would they do differently? What would they say about some of the moral choices they made? The reader reacts to the justifications presented by the characters, but also considers the responses in terms of his/her own life choices. The book is compelling and thought provoking at the same time. I look forward to Mr. Peace’s next book.

by Book Review (5 stars):

In his novel Sin & Contrition, William Peace follows the lives of six Americans, three male and three female, from a small town near Pittsburgh. We meet them at age 14, when their concerns are still those of very early adolescence: popularity, pecking order, awakening sexuality and, perhaps surprisingly to most of us, right and wrong. As they develop through their teen years, young adulthood and middle age, we grow more and more involved with the sometimes predictable, sometimes very surprising but always plausible ways in which their lives progress.

There is a lot of sex in this book — and a lot of religion. It is up to the reader to decide how comfortable he is with either. Peace seems to be totally comfortable everywhere, whether he is writing about the Marine Corps., lingerie manufacturing in Taiwan, tax fraud, drug abuse or political maneuvering. And, of course, he has the luxury of six different lives — and many very valid and fascinating minor characters — to play with.

He has also mastered the secret of the docu-drama. We know we are reading fiction, but we totally believe in these characters to the degree that when he chooses to close his account as an author interviewing them, we shake our heads but buy it. Or, perhaps it’s the soap opera that Peace has mastered. In either case, we want to tune in again tomorrow.

(For more information about my novels, see www.williampeace.net.

Emotion

As a child, I was brought up to suppress my emotions.  My father was remote, and had great difficulty expressing his emotions.  My mother, while gregarious and charismatic, believed that emotion was an expression of human weakness.

I remember that when my father died (at age 62) of Alzheimer’s disease quite a while ago, my mother called to tell me of his death (which had been expected).  She started to cry on the phone, and I remember saying something to her like, “Mom, you’ve been brave for so long, don’t break down now.”  I remember it so well, because now, I think what a terrible thing to say!  I should have expressed empathy and sympathy!  But that gives you an idea of how strong the ‘stiff upper lip’ mentality was in my family.

I remember also that when I separated from my first wife, I was cleaning my small apartment on a Saturday morning.  The phone rang.  It was my mother.  She wanted to know how I was, and at the end of the conversation, she said, “I love you.”  I couldn’t believe it!  I couldn’t recall her ever saying that to me before. (I was 46 at the time.)  I didn’t doubt that, in her heart of hearts, she loved me, but she did not express her feelings.

When I separated from my first wife, the minister at our church recommended that we both go to counselling.  I did.  I went to a psychotherapist for about two years, and during that time, I only learned one thing: get in touch with your emotions, don’t suppress them – emotions are an essential part of what makes us human.

Now, when my wife an I go to the movies, I often find that I’m shedding tears in response to something that’s happened.  Not just sad events, but also very happy events.  I’ll start wiping my eyes if I get caught up in the emotions of the actors.  My wife thinks it’s kind of amusing.  She seldom sheds a tear in the movies.

One interesting thing is that all five of the important women in my life are (or were) Capricorns: my mother, my sister, my ex-wife, my wife and a girl friend.  Why would that be?  Well, some is chance and some is by choice.  I’ve had a look at the characteristics of Capricorns.  One astrology website says: “These independent, rock like characters have many sterling qualities.  They are normally confident, strong-willed and calm.  These hardworking, unemotional, shrewd, practical, responsible, persevering . . . persons . . .”  I think that’s a fairly good description of all my women.  So, did I, as an unemotional child with two Capricorns living with me, choose three others?  Maybe so.

As a writer, one has to feel and express emotion.  I would have been a very poor writer of fiction before I went through psychotherapy.  Now, I find myself shedding tears when I’m re-reading a particularly well-written description of an emotional event.  For example, here’s a passage from Fishing in Foreign Seas.  Caterina and Jamie are visiting Erice, an ancient, mountain-top town in western Sicily:

 

“I show you something I do not like,” Caterina said, and she led the way down narrow path which seemed to skirt the edge of the mountain.  She paused near an iron railing, but clearly was going no closer to it.

Indicating the railing she said: “there is a very big drop there.”

Jamie walked over to the railing and peered over the edge.

“Not go so close, Jamie!” she said in alarm.

He looked into a narrow gorge which was covered on the near side with vines and seemed to stretch down into infinity.

“Yes, I see what you mean.  I can’t even make out what’s at the bottom.”

“Jamie, come away!” she pleaded.

She took a step backward and held out her hands to him.  He crossed over to her.

“The railing is quite strong.  You wouldn’t fall over,” he assured her.

She looked at him, her lips compressed: “I am afraid of heights.  When I get near a place like this, I am afraid I throw myself over.”

“But you’re not going to do that!”

“I know, but I still get the feeling. . . .  As if some demon inside of me will take control . . . and throw me over.”
“But you don’t have any demons inside,” he protested.

“I know of one,” she confessed.  Her eyes were misty: “. . . it is called ‘self-doubt’.”

He stared at her in utter amazement, then he felt her vulnerability, and he drew her close to him.  “Let’s get a bite to eat,” he suggested.

They sat at a table in an almost-deserted patisserie.  She would look at him for a moment and then she would look around her.  The corners of her mouth were turned down and her head was inclined to one side.

“Caterina . . .”  She looked at him, her face full of disappointment in herself.

He took her hands: “I love you!”

She took a deep breath, not believing what she heard.  Then the dam burst inside her.

“Oh, Jamie, I love you so much!  I never believed I could love anyone like this!”  Her face was streaming with tears.

“You beautiful, wild, wonderful girl!”  He got up and hugged her.  “. . . Do you suppose they have any champagne here?”

She wiped her eyes with a napkin.  “I doubt it, but they probably have some prosecco – which might be good.”

 

Now, when I write, I consciously step into the character I’m writing about – much as I suppose an actor does.  And, knowing the character, I let myself feel the way that character would feel in that situation.  And when I feel those feelings, I try to express them in writing – by what the character says, or thinks, or by his/her body language.

(For more information about my novels, see www.williampeace.net.)

Are Writers Introverts?

In the February 6, 2012 issue of Time magazine, there is an article on “The Upside of Being an Introvert (and why extroverts are overrated)”.  This caught my eye because I used to think I am an extrovert, while my wife says I’m an introvert.  More on this later. 

The article was accompanied by a quiz consisting of twenty questions which one can take to answer the question, “Are you an Innie or an Outie?”  Here are the questions:

  1. I prefer one-on-one conversations to group activities (yes or no)
  2. I often prefer to express myself in writing (yes or no)
  3. I enjoy solitude (yes or no)
  4. I seem to care less than my peers about wealth, fame and status (yes or no)
  5. I dislike small talk, but I enjoy talking in depth about topics that matter to me (yes or no)
  6. People tell me that I’m a good listener (yes or no)
  7. I’m not a big risk taker (yes or no)
  8. I enjoy work that allows me to dive in with few interruptions (yes or no)
  9. I like to celebrate birthdays on a small scale with only one or two close friends or family members (yes or no)
  10. People describe me as soft spoken or mellow (yes or no)
  11. I prefer not to show my work or discuss it with others until it is finished (yes or no)
  12. I dislike conflict (yes or no)
  13. I do my best work alone (yes or no)
  14. I tend to think before I speak (yes or no)
  15. I feel drained after being out and about, even if I’ve enjoyed myself (yes or no)
  16. I often let calls go to voice mail (yes or no)
  17. If I had to choose, I’d prefer a weekend with absolutely nothing to do to one with too many things scheduled (yes or no)
  18. I don’t enjoy multitasking (yes or no)
  19. I concentrate easily (yes or no)
  20. In classrooms, I prefer lectures to seminars (yes or no)

It seems to me that seven of these questions would get a “Yes” answer from most writers (numbers 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 18 & 19).  This means that of the remaining thirteen questions, one would only have to “Yes” to four of them to be more of an introvert than an extrovert.  This suggests to me that most writers are introverts.  In my case, I answer “Yes” to seven other questions.  The footnote on the quiz says that “There are no fixed scores, since both introversion and extroversion fall along a continuum, with many people – known as ambiverts – falling somewhere in between.”  Based on my score, I would say that I’m 70% introvert and 30% extrovert.

So why did I previously think I am an extrovert?  Well, when I first took the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (mentioned in a previous post), I tested as an E (for extrovert) rather than as an I (for Introvert).  The MBTI has a scale of responses, and I was an E, but not strongly an E.  The Time magazine article makes the point that it is an extrovert’s world, and people are socialised towards extroversion.  This was certainly my case.  As a child, I enjoyed my own company, and had a few good friends.  At university, in the Navy (particularly as an officer),as a sales engineer and as a manager, I learned to adopt the behaviour of an extrovert.  That’s what the MBTI found.  But during my lifetime, I’ve never  liked conflict (though I’ve learned to deal with it), and I’ve never enjoyed being the focal point in a large social situation.  So, at this point in my life, I’m happy to go back to ‘my roots’, write novels and be an introvert.  By the way, the Time magazine article points out some of the advantages of being an introvert.

The article also points out that Winston Churchill – a well-known extrovert – won the Nobel Prize for Literature for his memoirs.  (There are exceptions to every rule!)

Planning

I tend to believe that if one is going to do something important, one must have a plan.  For those of you who are familiar with the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (there is a page on Wikipedia), my profile ends in a J (judging).  This means that I tend to place a lot of emphasis on rational thought.  My wife has a profile ending in P (perceiving), and she tends to be quite intuitive.  I think it’s fair to say that most of us have some of both, and certainly both are useful to a writer.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Fishing in Foreign Seas was based on a series of dreams I had.  Then, I added the story about the huge negotiation, which is, by the way, in many ways based on my actual experiences.  There was not a great deal of planning involved in creating this novel, which switches back and forth between the romance and the negotiation.  The chapters are divided by time period, with each period covering a stage in the development of the romance or the negotiation.  So, for example, I didn’t really plan the chapter about Jamie and Caterina’s years in Philadelphia, I just knew what I wanted to say.

For Sin & Contrition, I had to plan the six main characters: their personalities, their values, their strengths and weaknesses.  And I had to prepare a list of the sins they commit.  After that, the planning was ‘on the fly’.  When I wrote the chapter on bullying, I sat down and thought ‘who’s going to bully whom, why and how’.  The ideas flowed, and I put them on paper.  Not really a lot of formal planning.

My third and fourth novels are thrillers, and as such they had to be much more thoroughly planned.  (The third, Efraim’s Eye, will be out later this year, and the fourth is about two thirds complete.)  After all, one has to set the stage, build up the suspense and present the climax followed by the resolution.  Efraim’s Eye  is based, in part, on my experience with a charity in Mexico – although the novel is set in Morocco.  Because of my experience, I knew what I wanted to say about the charity.  But in presenting the terrorist side of the story, I had to lay out, step-by-step, how it would evolve.  I also had to do a lot of research, which in many cases, led to alterations to the plot.

(Efraim’s Eye was published 24 September 2012.)

My fourth novel – about the drugs trade in Afghanistan and Iran – is not based on my experience.  And here I had to start with a brief idea of what would happen.  I  then described each of the  principle characters and their roles.  This was followed by hours and hours of research.  I could then lay out the plot, chapter by chapter, in some detail.  But the process I’m using is organic.  Before starting a new chapter, I’ll look at the outline for that chapter.  Usually, it needs to be revised and more clarity added.  This, in turn, may result in the need to change something I’ve written two or three chapters previously.  And, it may result in changes to the outline of the later chapters.  But once I start writing a chapter, the formal planning ends until the next chapter begins.  Also, as the novel evolves, my perceptions of each character evolves and becomes clearer.

So, for me, planning has become a more essential function in the creative process.  But planning has to be iterative and flexible.  There has to be plenty of space for intuition.

Sentences

An article in today’s The Daily Telegraph caught my eye.  On page 5, the caption is “The genius of Shakespeare is in grammar, not the words.”  It goes on to say:

“For centuries, Shakespeare has been celebrated not just for his genius as a playwright but for creating many of the most commonly used words and phrases.
But an academic has challenged the view of Shakespeare as the father of modern language, claiming that he was no more inventive with words than his contemporaries”

Jonathan Hope, from Strathclyde University, compared Shakespeare’s work with that of Thomas Middleton, Ben Jonson and Thomas Nashe.  These men were, in proportion to the volumes of their work, responsible for inventing just as many new words.  But, according to Mr. Hope, Shakespeare reinvented grammar, breaking away from the conformity of traditional rules.

“Mr. Hope highlighted a passage from Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 4, where Shakespeare plays with the normal rules of English that demand a sentence is structured in the order of subject, verb, object.  In the scene the queen says to her son: ‘Hamlet, thou has thy father much offended.’  Mr. Hope explained: ‘In present day English we would expect, ‘Thou hast much offended thy father, Hamlet’.

As you may know, other languages don’t follow this subject, verb, object convention.  In German, for example, the verb is often placed at the end of the sentence.  So in German, it might be, ‘Thou, Hamlet, thy father hast much offended.’  To me, this sentence seems a bit awkward, because it’s not immediately clear who is the subject and who is the object.

Nevertheless, I am very much in favour of creating different sentence structures to make it interesting for the reader.  But more importantly, different structures can convey sightly different meanings by emphasizing one part of a sentence over another.

Let  me give some examples:

  • “Handsome John passionately kissed pretty Mary and held her hand in the dining room.”  (conventional, except that the prepositional phrase at the end kind of dangles)
  • “In the dining room, pretty Mary was passionately kissed by handsome John, who held her hand.”  (in this version, Mary and the dining room assume more importance)
  • “Having passionately kissed pretty Mary in the dining room, handsome John held her hand.” (here, that passionate kiss takes centre stage.)
  • “Having held her hand in the dining room, handsome John passionately kissed pretty Mary.” (here, that hand holding seems most important.)
  • “Pretty Mary was passionately kissed by handsome John, who held her hand in the dining room.” (pretty Mary is the key character here.)
  • “John, who was handsome, passionately kissed pretty Mary and held her hand in the dining room.” (John’s looks get extra emphasis.)
  • and so on

In my opinion, it can make boring reading if one sentence after another follows the subject, verb, object format.  Much more interesting to throw in prepositional clauses, adverb clauses, adjective clauses, and participial phrases (using a verb ending in ing, for example).

Violence

I am a non-violent person.  While I served in the U S Navy, I didn’t see combat, but I was involved in the Cuban Missile Crisis.  The only time I have actually been in a fight was when I was about ten.  At summer camp, I got into a fight with an older, bigger boy who didn’t like me.  (Come to think of it, I didn’t like him much, either.)  For the first couple of minutes, I was giving at good as I got, but then his superior size and strength took over, and I was beaten up.

Violence happens.  We all know that, and sometimes a writer finds himself in a position where he has to write about it.  When writing about violence, I try to keep several things in mind.  First of all, violence is fast moving, so the description has to move rapidly.  So rapidly that sometimes the reader has to fill in the details with her imagination.  Details just slow the action down, and the violence loses its horror.  To keep the action moving, I try to use short sentences, so that the action seems staccato.  When describing violence, I  want to minimise the number of adjectives and adverbs, sticking as close as I can to nouns and verbs.  This also keeps the action moving  rapidly.  Finally, I think it’s best to use hard clear (punchy) words.

Here’s an example from Fishing in Foreign Seas.  Jamie and Caterina are on their honeymoon in Mombasa, Kenya.  They are walking back to their hotel after dinner at a nearby restaurant.

The road was nearly deserted, it was hot, and Jamie had taken off his jacket, which was folded over one arm.

“Good evening to you!”  It was a male voice with a Kenyan accent.   Jamie turned slightly and saw the man, dressed in a brown T-shirt and jeans, overtaking them.

Jamie said, “Good evening.”

Then the man swerved toward them and said: “Give me your money!”  He was inches away from Jamie, who reacted without thinking.  He punched the man in his mid-section and then delivered a kick which sent the man to the ground.

“Give us your money, man!” This from another man who had emerged from the shadows in front of them.  He advanced rapidly toward Jamie, who suddenly saw the gleam of a blade in the man’s hand.  Jamie stepped back and flung his jacket at the man.  The jacket covered the man’s face, and as he came on, Jamie kicked out at him, connecting solidly with a leg.  The man sprawled headlong forward, dropping the knife.  Jamie seized the knife and stood looking down at the man.  The man rolled away, and got to his feet.  He glared at Jamie for a moment; then he said: “Come on, Joe.”  The first man struggled to his feet, and the two of them disappeared.

Then, there’s this example of bullying from Sin & Contrition.  It takes place in the boys’ restroom at school.  Gary and Gene have been demanding candy from Xing, a smaller, Chinese classmate.

“Oh hi, Chinkie,” Gary intoned with an insincere smile, “Where’s our extra candy?”

“I can’t get it,” Xing said softly, hurriedly rinsing his hands.

Gary moved close to Xing: “’I can’t get it, Sir Aramis’ is what you meant to say – right, Chinkie?”

Xing moved away and drew a paper towel from the dispenser.  “I can’t get it,” he repeated.

Threateningly, Gary said: “No, Chinkie, that won’t do.  We deserve to be treated respectfully.”  And he took a hold of the smaller boy’s shirt.

Wordlessly, Xing pushed Gary away.

“Now, just a minute, Chinkie.  We haven’t finished our conversation,” Gary said through clenched teeth, and he balled his right fist.

This time, Xing anticipated the blow, and turned so that it struck him in the ribs rather than the belly.  “Leave me alone!” he shouted, and he hit Gary in the throat with a chopping blow.

Gary recoiled, then rushed forward in a frenzy at having been thwarted.  He aimed a roundhouse punch at Xing.  Instantaneously, Xing blocked the blow with his arm, and landed another chopping blow, this time on Gary’s neck.

“You little bastard,” Gary shouted, realising for the first time that Xing knew how to fight.  “I’m going to fix you good!”  And he hurled himself at Xing, who was able to partially sidestep the rush, striking Gary in the belly.

Gary doubled over in pain, and Xing turned to go, but Gary attacked again – this time landing a solid blow on Xing’s shoulder.  Xing responded with a kick to Gary’s shin.

Gene, who had been watching, began to realise that his friend would not beat Xing in a stand-up fight.  “He’s too quick and he’s using Karate, or something,” he thought.  The two combatants jockeyed for position in front of Gene, with Gary taking the worst of it. The thought sprang into Gene’s head:  “I can’t let Gary down!  It’s ‘all for one’!”

Suddenly, Xing had his back to Gene, and Gene reacted immediately: he kicked out at Xing’s legs, landing a blow behind one of Xing’s knees.

Xing crumpled to the floor, and Gary flung himself onto the smaller boy.  In a fury, Gary began to pummel Xing, hitting him on either side of his head and in the face with his clenched fists.

Xing began to scream, and cry out for mercy, but Gary refused to stop until Gene grabbed Gary’s shoulders and shouted at him: “That’s enough, Gary!  You’re going to really hurt him!”

In painful triumph, Gary stood and looked down at Xing, whose face was bruised, battered and bleeding.  “That’ll teach you, you little shit!” he spat out venomously.

And, finally, this passage from Sin & Contrition.  LaMarr and his buddy Mason are on guard duty at a Marine base near Hue during the Vietnam War.

LaMarr was nervous.  He looked at his watch; the luminous dial said three fifty-three.  Still another two hours to go, he thought.  Quietly, he walked to the other end of his sentry position, brushing aside the invisible foliage.  Deeper in the jungle, a bird called out an alarm, and monkeys in the treetops took it up.  Something’s going on in there!  He stood still, listening.  Nothing but the monkeys, and now several birds.  Dawn was still an hour away, and he tried to peer through the pre-dawn glimmer.  Was that something moving over there – behind those trees – maybe thirty yards?  Yes!  It was something bigger than a monkey.  Now, two dark shapes.  No!  Three or four moving between those trees.  LaMarr shouted out the challenge: “September five!”  (to which the correct response would have been ‘eleven whiskey’) but there was no response. Even the birds and monkeys seemed to be listening.

LaMarr raised his rifle and fired a single shot above, but in the direction of the shapes.  Out of the jungle came a cacophony of yells and high pitched battle cries.  LaMarr could see a line of muzzle flashes ahead.  He shouted “hit the deck!” to Mason, whose position was thirty-five yards to his right.  From the ground, he realized he could see nothing.  He crawled rapidly to a large tree, and cautiously rose behind it, his M16 now on full automatic.  Peeking around the tree, he spotted the muzzle flashes again.  They were clustered right there!  He fired a burst from the M16, and paused.  There were several loud cries.  Were they orders or have I hit someone?  He heard Mason fire three bursts in quick succession, and from his muzzle flashes, he could just make him out – also standing behind a tree.  It was absolutely silent for a long moment.  Then there was a shout from the jungle.  That was definitely an order!  The battle cries and the firing from the forest resumed.  LaMarr heard bullets strike his tree; one tore off a chunk of bark just above his head.  He dropped down to one knee, but still able to see the enemy’s position, and partially shielded by the tree.  He fired until his clip was empty.  Pulling a fresh clip from his jacket, he saw Mason firing again.  “Take cover, Mason!” he shouted.

We’re bound to get some backup from camp soon!  Then he heard the shouting from the barracks behind him.  There was another period of silence from the jungle.  Suddenly, ahead and to his right a heavy machine gun opened up.  It was firing toward Mason’s position.  LaMarr fired a burst at it.  There was shouting from that direction, and then it resumed its loud, staccato chatter.  Bullets sprayed through the forest, tearing large splinters from his tree.

Mason shouted: “LaMarr, I’m hit!”

“Hang on, buddy!  I’ll be with you in a minute!”  Gotta get that machine gun first!  Rifle’s no good in this situation!

LaMarr crawled on his belly for perhaps twenty yards, hearing the clatter of the gun and its bullets flitting through the jungle growth above him.  He pulled a grenade from his jacket, and waited for the firing to cease.  Cautiously, he raised his head just it time to see the muzzle flashes as the gun directed its fire at the camp.  LaMarr pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade.  There was a loud concussion and a bright flash.  Then silence.  LaMarr could hear reinforcements pouring out of the camp, and he heard Mason moan.  Rising so that he could run bent double, LaMarr dropped down next to Mason.  “Where are you hit, buddy?”

“Here!”  Mason was covering his lower belly with his hands, and pleading.  “LaMarr, help me!  I don’t want to die!”

LaMarr said: “You’ll be OK, Mason!  Just hang in there!”  Then he shouted: “Medic! . . . There’s a man down!  We need a medic over here!”

Gently but firmly, LaMarr pulled Mason’s hands away from his wound.  In the semi-darkness, he could make out the dark stain which was spreading over Mason’s trousers.  “Let me get a dressing on you!”   He fumbled in his pack for the medical supply kit, and tore it open.  He wrestled with Mason’s belt and trousers until he exposed the wound: an ugly tear just below Mason’s navel, which was overflowing dark blood.  LaMarr tore the wrapping off the field dressing and pressed it on the wound.

Weakly, Mason said: “I can’t feel my legs, LaMarr!”

“You’ll be OK, Mason.  There’s a medic on the way.  I’ve got to get another dressing on you.”  LaMarr had seen that the first dressing was already soaked with blood, and he thought, Oh my God!  This is really bad!”

A Marine (actually a U S Navy Corpsman) dropped down beside them.  “Let me tend to him,” he said.

LaMarr removed his friend’s helmet, and softly stroked his head, which was cool and sweaty.  Mason’s eyes would focus on LaMarr’s face for a few moments, and then he would seem to be looking at the sky.  “I’m not going to make it,” he whispered.

“Yes, you will, Mason!” LaMarr was pleading, now: “Help is here!  There’s a corpsman tending to you.”

Mason seemed to relax, and his eyes looked only at the sky.

The corpsman reached up to feel Mason’s pulse at his throat.  He withdrew his hand, and sat back.  “There’s noting we can do,” he said, “I’m afraid he’s gone.”

LaMarr collapsed on his friend’s chest.  “No, no, Mason.  You can’t go, buddy!  Please don’t go!”  He pressed his cheek to Mason’s and wept.

(For more information about my novels, see www.williampeace.net.)

Editing

Professional editing of the completed manuscript is a process that most published authors have to endure.  I say ‘endure’ because it involves work on the author’s part and because it involves at least some implied criticism of the author’s work.  However, when it is completed, the process should have added value to the work, making it a better experience for the reader.

I am presently ‘enduring’ the editing of my third novel, and it has been a bit painful.  More on that later.  My first novel, Fishing in Foreign Seas,was edited by a professional, freelance editor to whom I was referred by a company I contacted on the internet.  She returned my manuscript to me via e-mail with the proposed changes tracked in red.  Ninety-nine percent of her proposed changes were perfectly fine.  They included a few spelling errors (where the spell checker let me down), punctuation changes, and some grammatical changes (I have a tendency to use ‘which’ instead of  ‘that’), and a few syntax changes.   She also inserted questions or comments for me to consider in order to improve the clarity for the reader.  Most of her proposed changes were eliminating the second space I like to put at the end of a sentence.  (I think it makes the text easier to read, but editors and publishers don’t like a second space.)  Going through her proposed changes was actually an enjoyable piece of work.  I felt that she had improved what I had written.  So, I accepted 99% of the changes and sent the revised manuscript to my publisher.  The publisher (bless his heart) sent the revised manuscript to another professional editor, who produced about fifty new changes.  Many of these new changes were incorrect, and most of the rest were inappropriate.  So, having conceded on a handful of additional changes, I reminded the publisher that the manuscript had already been edited and that enough was enough.

In the case of my second novel, Sin & Contrition, I decided to use the editor which the publisher recommended in order to avoid the double editing.  The way this process worked was different in the sense that I was expected to make a list of the proposed changes with which I disagreed, but I was advised not to alter the marked up manuscript.  So, I sent the publisher a list of well over one hundred items I didn’t agree with.  A few weeks later I got the manuscript back with all but about ten of my items suitably addressed.  A few weeks after that, the last items were addressed.

The moral I take away from this story is that publishers (or at least my publisher) likes to be in control of the editing process.  It would be a lot simpler if the publisher could bring himself to trust an editor and the author to work together to produce a final manuscript.  After all, the author and the publisher have a common objective: producing a novel which is well and correctly written, and in this process, the editor is a kind of technical adviser.

My third experience with Efraim’s Eye is much more frustrating.  The original manuscript was written mostly in Arial font, but I changed to Lucinda Calligraphy whenever a character is speaking or thinking in Arabic.  The reason for this is to remind the reader not only of the change in language, but to remind him/her of differences in culture and values.  I also like to put characters’  thoughts in italics to distinguish them from the spoke words.  This serves to highlight the dichotomy when a character’s thoughts and his words are in conflict.  It’s also useful to see a character’s reaction to a situation immediately without the need to include “She thought . . .”

Well, the publisher likes to see their books in Times New Roman, which is prefectly OK with me, except to get there, the entire manuscript was converted to Times New Roman before it  went out for editing.  So, at a later stage, I’ll have to go back and check, page-by-page, where Lucinda Calligraphy should be inserted.  Moreover, the editor didn’t like my use of italics in thoughts, so all of that has been put back to plain text.  More page-by-page work to re-instate the italics.

But what I find most frustrating is interference in the author’s creative perogative – as well as lack of professional competence.  For example:

  • making arbitrary changes to a word or phrase which has nothing to do with spelling, grammar, punctuation, or logic, but which the editor happens to prefer.  I tend to write very deliberately; arbitrary changes are seldom improvements
  • deleting descriptive passages which the editor thought were extraneous
  • putting what was intentionally broken English into correct English.  Some of my characters don’t speak good English
  • not listening to the voice of a character: e.g. adding “pm” to a sentence which reads: He said, “I’ll see you at about four.”
  • editorial errors: for example: substituting “where” for “which”, using the plural of a verb when the singular is called for, punctuation errors, failing to capitalise titles and proper nouns
  • inconsistency

There!  I’ve had my rant.  I’ll get over my frustration, and the good side of the editing experience is that the author can learn quite a lot about his craft, his novel and himself.