I don't usually write Y/A stories, but my Creative Writing Class suggested the topic. As leader of the class, I decided to participate. Notice, in a short story, you must start with the action. In my first draft I spent two unnecessary paragraphs setting the scene.

RELUCTANT ADVENTURE                      J. Brennan

“Whatever you do, don’t touch that…”

Before Jerry finished the sentence, it was too late. Candy’s natural curiosity prevailed and her finger seemed drawn to the bright red button, marked LAUNCH.

Everything seemed to happen at once. The winged doors of the small space capsule snapped closed and locked. Belts automatically secured Jerry and Candy to their seats and helmets dropped from the ceiling covering their heads. Lights inside the capsule blinked. A recorded voice gave instructions to follow before lift-off.

          “Can’t you stop this thing?” screamed Candy.

Jerry fought panic. Candy had pushed the button, which would send the capsule into outer space. Nothing he knew how do would stop it from inside, and no one was in the lab on Sunday afternoon.

He should have never used his dad’s ID card to sneak Candy into the lab, and never allowed her to talk him into sitting inside the capsule. He looked over at her, the cutest girl in the sixth grade class. What was he thinking? His dad, Professor Henry Jenkins, would kill him.

 “Attach your helmet,” the recorded voice instructed. Jerry knew that when the capsule took off, they, along with the capsule would shrink to an eighth of their original size. A gas will put them into a deep sleep and they wouldn’t wake up until they landed.  

The ceiling of the Cosmo Laboratories slid open and lights inside the capsule dimmed. Before the craft shot out of the building, both Jerry and Candy had lapsed into a deep sleep.

***

When the capsule’s doors popped open, Jerry had no way of determining when or where they had landed. He removed his helmet and tentatively stepped outside to survey the surroundings. It appeared to him that they landed in the middle of a forest in the dark of night.

He reached inside to shake Candy. “Are you okay?”

“I guess. Where are we?”

“I have no idea.”

“Can you get us back home?”

Jerry glanced back at the capsule. “I don’t dare experiment with the drive panel. The machine has the ability to self-destruct. If I push the wrong button, we’re toast.”

“But what can we do? I don’t want to die here, wherever here is.”

“The best thing we can do now is to wait until daylight. We should be safe in the capsule, but please Candy, don’t touch anything. I’ll block the doors open so we won’t take off again.”

***

At the first light of dawn, Jerry stepped out of the capsule. Candy yawned and followed him.

“Stay close to me and let’s see if we can find any sign of life.”

She grabbed onto of his shirttail and followed behind as they made their way through a patch of brown and green undergrowth. After fighting their way through thicket, they ended up on the banks of a muddy river. Candy frowned when Jerry brushed away the surface grime and dipped his cupped his hands into the water.

“Better get a drink. A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

Candy reluctantly bent down to dip her hands into the water when she slipped and fell in. “I can’t swim,” she gurgled as her head bobbed up and down in the water.

Jerry kicked off his sneakers and jumped in beside her. “Relax, don’t struggle. I have you.” He pulled her to the muddy shore and they sat down on a boulder to catch their breath. 

Once out of the thicket, Jerry noticed huge birds, and then he recognized a jet streaking across the sky. They had shrunk but never returned to their normal size. The river he drank from was merely a mud puddle.

Loud voices called his name. A huge foot shook the ground beside him.

 “We’re down here,” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

A hand scooped him and Candy up.

“Young Mister Jenkins. Seems you got yourself in a bit of a situation here. And who is this young lady?”

Jerry immediately recognized the head Lab Scientist, Professor Ludwig.

“How did you find us?” Jerry shouted.

“Wasn’t hard. The capsule is equipped with a GPS.” The professor snickered. “You managed to launch, and shrink, but you didn’t go far. You shot straight up into the atmosphere and immediately landed on the edge of the parking lot. Now listen carefully while I explain how you can return to the laboratory and regain your normal size."

The professor set the couple down next to the capsule. On his hands and knees, he instructed Jerry exactly how to program the spaceship for the return trip.

“Okay, young man. Blast off.”

The door closed. Jerry pushed a series of buttons. The capsule jerked upward and then they dropped into the whirlpool of darkness. When they regained consciousness, the capsule perched on its launching pad in the lab and they had returned to their former size.

Jerry prepared himself for the worst. He didn’t expect a hug from his dad and cheers when he and Candy stepped out of the spaceship.

“You made history, young man. You successfully tested the capsule and proved it worked as designed. Had you programmed in a destination, we probably would never have found you, but you’re back safe and sound.”

Someone popped the cork on a large bottle of champagne and filled paper cups…root beer for Candy and Jerry.

After an afternoon of celebration, Jerry’s dad pulled him aside.

“You’re grounded. Don’t ever do anything that stupid again.”      

   

 

 

Drama in a Small Town: LISTEN WHEN YOUR CHARACTER SPEAKS

Drama in a Small Town: LISTEN WHEN YOUR CHARACTER SPEAKS: I’ve attended seminars, enjoyed conferences and have personally given workshops on many aspects of writing. I lead both a Critique group ...

LISTEN WHEN YOUR CHARACTER SPEAKS

I’ve attended seminars, enjoyed conferences and have personally given workshops on many aspects of writing. I lead both a Critique group and a Creative Writing class. I mention this because I'm aware of the importance of character development, and plotting my romantic suspense novels. There are many hard and fast rules for writing. Don’t head hop. Stay in the character’s POV. Make your dialog real and keep your plots solid and believeable.

Would someone please tell that to my character? I’m presently writing, ROBYN, the fourth of the Rexford Series. Robyn is perky, cheerful, a character with personal problems but the first to help her friends when they’re in trouble. I’ve done a complete character analysis on Robyn. I know how she thinks, her weaknesses and faults, her joy of life. I also know her disappointments. Pretty easy character to write about....so, what happened?

Robyn is bulking at the stereotype. She snarls and tells me she’s changing, developing a backbone. Wait a minute. That’s not how I pictured her. Okay, she hasn’t altered her physical looks. She’s still petite with short blonde hair and a sunny smile, but now she’s making snap decisions and taking charge of her life.

This often happens when I write fiction. My characters take over. They talk to me and let me know they have a mind of their own and I had better listen. Unfortunately, they also disrupt my sleep at night and demand my attention. I’ve learned to keep a tape recorder next to my bed to keep a record of their midnight ranting. In the morning, I’m always surprised by the suggestions.

Listen to your characters. Get the feeling of what makes them tick. Never say never when it comes to their growth and you’ll end up with a well-rounded character who will develop your manuscript into a great reading experience.

Keep writing, Joyce Brennan

   

Drama in a Small Town: THE ARREST

Drama in a Small Town: THE ARREST:                                                               THE ARREST “Police, open the door.” The pounding and shouts roused B...

THE ARREST

                                                              THE ARREST

“Police, open the door.”

The pounding and shouts roused Ben out of a deep sleep. He sat up in bed, sure he was dreaming when a loud crack splintered the door of his studio apartment. Officers dressed in swat-team uniforms flooded the room. Arms yanked him to his feet.

“Wait a minute. Stop. What’s going on?” Ben’s protest was met with an arm to the throat as he was wrestled to the floor. He felt a knee to the back of his neck as metal cuffs pinched on his wrists.

“Would someone please tell me…”

“You have the right to remain silent.” The officer continued reading Ben his rights before they hauled him to his feet.

“At least, give me my pants and shoes…wallet.”

Someone swore and tossed a pair of jeans in his direction. A grim officer helped him dress and allowed him to slip his bare feet into his shoes, while others rummaged through his dresser.

“Found it.” An officer held up a package. No one else spoke as two strong men hauled him downstairs and into a squad car.

Ben’s questions remained unanswered as they sped to the police station. He didn’t bother to protest when the officers led him into a small room furnished with two chairs and a table. He realized a video camera captured his every move so he sat quietly, careful not to show any emotion.

After twenty minutes, Detective Grissom entered the room and slapped a folder on the table. He scrapped out the chair sat across from Ben and took his time shuffling the papers in front of him.

“Drug possession with the intent to sell,” he growled.

            Ben started to speak but realized the situation was hopeless. He wasn’t involved in drugs. Didn’t have drugs in his apartment. That didn’t mean they weren’t placed there by rogue cops. He listened while Grissom read off the charges.
            “You’re in serious trouble, young man.”

Ben stayed silent and stared at the detective.

Grissom’s voice rose to a higher level. He stood and began to pace the room. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ben clamped his lips.

Grissom stood between Ben and the camera and slapped the open folder before him. “If you don’t plan to talk to me, I’ll have no option but to book you. Understand?”

Ben noticed the detective edged the folder in his direction. He glanced down and squashed a smile when he read the note. We got them, Ben. I’m placing you in protective custody until it’s time to testify.

Undercover agent, Ben Marks nodded. Instead of a cell, another undercover agent rushed him off to a motel room. It was much better than the grimy apartment he rented to take part in the sting.

Joyce Brennan  July, 2012

When writing a short story, start with action. You don't have the space to set up a descriptive background. Don't name minor characters unless they're important to move the story forward or are involved in the conflict. I also try to stay in the main character's point of view. Keep  your reader guessing until the end. 

The same holds true when writing a longer manuscript. Choose the main character,(hero/herorine) and try to keep your story in their point of view or that of the secondary character. (lover/detective/ best friend, etc.) Don't jump from one character's POV to another in the same scene. Stay consistant. Flush out those characters with description sprinkled throughout your novel. It's boring to read that Suzie has long blond hair, blue eyes and a smile that lights up the room. Show that.

 "What is she thinking?" I'm often asked how to place a character's inner thoughts in a novel. Skip the ("I can't stand him," she thought.) and either write it in italics or simply write, "I can't stand him."  No-he thought/ she thought. Give your reader credit. Also, don't go into a long narrative of your characters thoughts. You might put your reader to sleep. Mix it up with dialog and/or action.

Keep writing, Joyce  

Author of: UNEXPECTED GIFTS, BROKEN PROMISES, and DON'T DANCE ON MY HEART, all available on Amazon. Watch for the REXFORD SERIES, and A DRIFTWOOD SPRINGS CHRISTMAS.

  

  

Drama in a Small Town: FINAL INTERVIEW

Drama in a Small Town: FINAL INTERVIEW: I hope you enjoy this short story. FINAL INTERVIEW   Joyce Brennan Her hands shook slightly and she clasped them together. I sat...

FINAL INTERVIEW

I hope you enjoy this short story.

FINAL INTERVIEW

 Joyce Brennan

Her hands shook slightly and she clasped them together. I sat across the table from her and introduced myself.

“I don’t usually give interviews,” she said, “but I’ll make an exception because this is such a special day.”

Dressed in white, she began to fuss with her hair while attendants watched her every move. I couldn’t help but admire her natural beauty.

“I appreciate your time,” I said. “I guess my first question, how did you reach this point in your life?”

“I can sum it up in two words…true love.”

 “But there had been many obstacles.”

“That made it all the more exhilarating. We had overcome all odds.”

“We? You’re referring to you and Ted. How did you become attracted to Mr. Mason?”

“That should be obvious. Ted’s exciting and extremely handsome.”

I understood the attraction. Ted Mason’s face had graced the front pages of all the newspapers. Women from throughout the world were swooning over him.

“How did you cope with the letters he received from his fans?” I asked.

She waved her hand in the air. “I knew he was completely dedicated to me…to us.”

“Tell me how you met?”

“It was fate.” A blush crossed her pale face as she evaded my question. I tried another approach.

“Have you always lived in Texas?”

“No. Ted and I came here to get married.”

“Why Texas?”

“You know. The wild, wild West. It seemed appropriate. We had an amazing affair.”

I checked my notes. “Wasn’t Ted already married?”

“That happened years ago. We were completely devoted to each other.”

“Tell me, Gilda, did you have long term goals?”

A high giggle filled the room. “Ted and I lived for the moment. That’s more exciting.”

“Do you want to talk about Sylvia Tanner?

Her face paled briefly, but she quickly recovered. “I don’t think that’s appropriate. How do I look?”

“Fantastic.” I wasn’t lying. With her clear skin, light complexion and delicate features, she reminded me of Dresden china.

Our conversation was interrupted. “The priest is here. You’ll have to leave.”

Gilda smiled brightly. “You’ve been so kind. Now I must meet my intended. For better or worse, richer or poorer, till death…well you know.”

I knew.

I paced the floor until the designated time. I stood behind the curtains and when the lights dimmed, I cringed. Gilda Bennett joined her beloved by lethal injection. Sylvia Tanner became their final victim. Ted Mason had been executed six month before. The serial killers, now joined in death, were no longer a threat.