1st Person Noir

Comments: Noir fiction is often written in the first person. First person creates an immediacy that's compelling. It hints at the survival of the main character because he or she lived to tell the tale. Unless, of course, the tale is being told by a ghost. One of the downsides to 1st person is you don't know who the speaker is until another character happens to mention it. Or the main character has a reason to reveal it, for example, in a phone call. "Detective Larson? This is Mike Tankerton." The introductory scene needs to occur early in the first chapter. Our opening scene doesn't present this opportunity, so it will have to happen in the next paragraph or two after this scene.

The first person character doesn't necessarily have to be the main character. A sidekick can tell the tale. You may want to use a sidekick if your main character speaks in grunts and groans, like Rocky Balboa. Or if your character isn't the brightest light bulb in the cast. Or so brilliant, like Sherlock Holmes, he or she has no need to write a story, leaving that task to lesser minds with a literary bent.

Look for the way I adapted and polished the copy for first person. My editing challenge is to eliminate at least one-half of the uses of "I." Overusing the word "I" creates a feeling of self-focus that can kill your story. You don't need an over-sized ego in the first person. If your main character has a big ego, tell the tale in third person. In first person, scratch out their "I"s. Enjoy.

1st Person Noir
I couldn’t remember how the Walther PK380 ended up in my left overcoat pocket, but it was pressing hard against my side. I shifted my weight around on the bus seat to relieve the pain. As I stared out the window at the Magnificent Mile passing by, I counted how many shots I had fired. One, two, three, four, five. Four bullets left. I leaned my head against the window to rest, but the pain burned. I leaned the other way.

Outside, the darkness closed in like an assault team as the night sky sunk to the level of skyscrapers. Clouds boiled and rolled like flood waters from a deluge. As the CTA bus made its way down Michigan Avenue toward the river and Wacker Drive, I watched for Tomlinson’s men. A large flowered red umbrella blew inside out in the November wind that also lifted the owner’s black skirt near Ontario Street. A man in a tan London Fog stopped to gawk at her.

My right hand rested over the backpack like a protecting mother eagle. I smiled at the thought because the job went over like a diving eagle swiping the catch off a fisherman’s hook. The backpack was worth the five shots fired in anger. Six counting one from their side.

I glanced out the black window again. Neon lights painted a cityscape abstracted by the rain drops. The girl with the upside-down umbrella and flapping skirt was gone like all the other women in my life.

Blood dripped now from under my coat and over the back of my left hand. I let it run between my fingers. If they didn’t raise the bridge, I had a chance. But up ahead I could see the bridge lights blinking in the rain.

21st Century Noir

Comments: Read yesterday's post first if  you haven't already. I revised my first draft to be more consistent with modern suspense writing where you want to open with a strong hook. I'm writing hard boiled suspense so the hook has to grab the reader. I upped the ante on the suspense, adding teasers related to the character's love life, the purpose of his current mission, and the state of his health. I expanded the details to paint a stronger picture.

In the early noir stories, it was okay to say your character carried a 45 or a 38. Today's readers are more sophisticated. They want to know the  make and model of the weapon. Details breathe life into the story. I chose a Walther PK380. Knowledgeable readers will know that it's a limited edition, highly refined product of German engineering, imported by Smith and Wesson. This clues the reader that our main character is a professional. What I haven't told you is whether he is a professional hit man or a professional good guy. I also haven't told you if the writer knows his character's occupation. The research on the weapon took about 10 minutes with the help of my friend Google and the detailed content of the Smith and Wesson website. Enjoy.

For critique: What is the correct use of the verb form for "don't" in the last sentence? Should it be "don't" or "didn't?" How does switching the verb form change the story, if at all?

21st Century Noir
Phil Tankerton shifted his husky torso to relieve the pressure caused by the Walther PK380 stuck between his left side and the inside of the bus. The Walther, stuffed into his overcoat pocket, had a way of shifting in the wrong direction whenever he sat down. He tried to remember how many shots he had fired. One, two, three, four, five. That meant four bullets left. He relaxed.

Outside, the darkness closed in like an assault team as the night sky sunk to the level of skyscrapers. Clouds boiled and rolled like flood waters from a deluge.

As the CTA bus made its way down Michigan Avenue toward the river and Wacker Drive, Tankerton watched for Tomlinson’s men. A large flowered red umbrella blew inside out in the November wind that also lifted the owner’s black skirt near Ontario Street. A man in a tan London Fog stopped to gawk at her.

Tankerton turned his attention to the backpack on the seat next to him. He rested his hand over it like a protecting mother eagle and smiled. It was worth five shots fired in anger. He glanced back out the black window. Neon lights painted a cityscape abstracted by the rain drops splashing against the bus window. The girl with the upside-down umbrella and flapping skirt was gone like all the other women in his life.

Blood dripped now from under his coat and over the back of his left hand, running between his fingers. If they don’t raise the bridge, he had a chance, but up ahead he could see the bridge lights blinking in the rain.

Rough Draft Noir

Comments: What follows is the rough first draft of a story not written. I've been reading Ellroy and Penszler's collection of noir short stories, The Best American Noir of the Century. The noir writers of the first half of the twentieth century focused on setting the dark mood at the outset of their stories, rather than the action. Today's suspense writers begin with the action and let the mood settle in as best it can. The following snippet captures that early noir style. Notice the "hook" doesn't appear until the end of the passage. I'll revise this opening later and present it in twenty-first century noir.

This is a rough draft so try to look past the obvious need for editing. My plan is to show you a bit of my editing process over a few posts. For fun, pay attention to the contrast of dark and light. How does this contrast affect mood? What, if anything, does the light symbolize in this otherwise dark tale.

Rough Draft Noir
The darkness gathers over all as the night sky blackens and sinks to the level of skyscrapers. Clouds boil and roll over the sky like flood waters from a deluge.

At ground level, Phil Tankerton pauses before hopping aboard the lighted street car. A November wind ruffles his overcoat and nearly knocks his backpack from his shoulders.

Phil parks in an empty seat toward the rear. He’s glad no one shares this seat with him. He rests the backpack on the empty aisle seat, resting his hand over it like a protecting mother eagle. He glances out the black window spattered with rain drops. Neon lights paint a cityscape abstracted by the rain.

Phil shifts his body to relieve his side of the pressure caused by the 45 strapped under his shoulder.

Agency Hack

Before he acts, Worster wants to be certain of the facts. Otherwise he will blow the whole presentation. Relationship building he knows. Selling he knows. Schmoozing he knows. Iron from steel he’s lost. Worster knows he needs to know the facts. Facts rule. Study the facts. Iron ain’t steel. Good. That’s one. Bar stock in, product out. That’s two. Cripes, how many facts are there? Machine steel, stainless steel, carbon steel, brass. Where did brass come from? Oh crap, they have a brass foundry, too? We’re supposed to promote brass? Cripes, I thought this was a steel account. Or is it iron? Google, gotta Google fast. Yeah, that’s it. Steal. No, the other stele. How do you spell the other stiel?

“Hey, anybody around here know how to spell steel?”

(Pause.)

“No, the other steel.”

Crap. Drop forge. Good. Drop forge. Two words. Gotta drop in drop forge. Double word score. Extrusion? No, that’s aluminum. Ain’t aluminum, just soft steel? Looks the freaking same. Not the same. Ok, got it. Lose the extrusion.

“Anybody find out how to spell steel?”

Writing Exercise (3 minutes)

Use the following six words.
Acolyte
Tiddlywinks
Pickles
Galaxy
Is
Razor

The acolyte genuflected in front of the main alter where he hurt his knee on the tiddlywinks. He screamed making Sister Martha jump from her pew and the entire eighth grade class burst into laughter. Father Smythe, who was watching Galaxy Quest in the sacristy nearly spilled his pickle juice but caught it at the last moment. He bit into the three pickles remaining in his hand, chewed quickly and swallowed. He then gulped some of the pickle juice and headed for the alter where Kevin, the acolyte writhed in pain.

“What is your problem, Kevin?” Father asked.

“Tiddlywinks, Father.”

“Well, it’s not like it was a razor for Pete’s sake. Finish lighting the candles.”

Postmortem: Is it necessary to say "in pain" after "writhed?" Does one ever writhe when not in pain?

Prom Pranks

My writer friend Krista Phillips once asked our now defunct online writer’s group for advice on prom pranks. She wrote, “I need an idea for a really good prank that a guy and his friends might try to pull to ruin a prom. I was thinking it could be something they would want to videotape for YouTube since teens are all in to that these days.”

My response
1. Stink bombs. Works every time. There's the cloud of dust, the hearty "Hi-yo-Silver and away" as the masked dude runs out of the place in time to avoid any stink on himself. That's how we know he did it of course. He's the one that doesn't smell. He's also the one with the video camera recording the mass exodus for presentation on YouTube.

2. Bug the ladies room with hidden cameras. Not a CBA solution, but it worked in "Revenge of the Nerds. "Ohmigod, a nerd saw me naked!" Of course, it works better if you bug a dorm or sorority. Still, you could catch all those cool conversations the guys would love to hear. "Tony doesn't know it yet, but this is his lucky night."

3. Give drugs to the band. Makes for great song lyrics until somebody tells the principal to listen to the words carefully. Could make for a great YouTube moment.

4. Start a rumor that the prom queen has been cheating on the captain of the football team with the captain of the basketball team while messing around with a nerd on the side. Stand back because the punches are going to fly. Another great YouTube moment.

5. Release a dozen mice while the band is playing that special slow song.

6. Do all of the above -- now you have a YouTube moment no one will ever forget.

7. Almost forgot -- See all those balloons hanging from the ceiling? Some wise guy filled them with paint and the paint is weighing down the balloons so they are about to start dropping from the ceiling any second and omygosh that one just splattered Emily Brickbrine's prom dress. Look out, here comes another one. Do you have your video camera running?

8. Okay, I'm getting warmed up now. Ever see the eighties movie "Sixteen Candles?" Here's the easy variation... a guy swipes a pair of his sister's panties and brings them to the prom. He waits until the evening is about half over (right before the paint balloons start to drop) and then tells all the guy's that the prom queen gave him her panties because she is so hot for all the guys. Then he shows the proof. The prom queen never knew she had so many guy friends and the prom king is about jealous and something interesting has to come out of this. And what with the rumor mill going full force from idea number 4 above... this can't end well.

9. Did you remember to spike the punch with grain alcohol or vodka?

10. Alice B. Toklas Brownies... Spike the desert with marijuana.

11. Or if you are just lazy and mean and don't plan to go to the prom anyway, call in a bomb scare.

12. Some of the guys could get together and hire prostitutes to be their prom dates and then turn 'em loose on the other guys. That has to tick off the girls big time. Stand back because the punches are going to fly and those girls hit hard.

13. When the band is about to go on break, one of the guys jumps up on stage, grabs a mic and announces that somebody important has just been assassinated (former Gov Blogoyovich?) so the rest of the prom is canceled so everyone can go home and watch the news.

14. While everyone is dancing to that special song, sneak around the tables and place a condom at every place setting. Not a biggie, but it is a great ice breaker.

I'm thinking you combine all of them. You'll have a scene out of "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World." Your book will be NY Times #1. You'll make big bucks on the movie rights including a percentage of gross because you know Lindsey and Britney will play the prostitutes and you'll owe me big time.

Side note: Please keep Krista and her family in your prayers as they await word on a new heart for Krista’s baby daughter. See Krista's blog. 

The Pizza of Doom

My writer's group met at Monterey Place Pizza in Geneva, Illinois, last night. Great pizza. Excellent service. Naturally we had to have a pizza-themed writing exercise, but instead, I selected one of Bill Price's ideas. He said any noun goes better if you put "of doom" after it. So the exercise was to write anything you wanted for three minutes, but you had to include "of doom" after the nouns. Pronouns were exempt. Writing about pizza was my idea. Others wrote about other things, mostly pizza...

The pizza of doom fell on the floor of doom next to the blond of doom. Helen of doom picked it up. “What’s this crap of doom?”

“It slipped out of my hand of doom,” Fred of doom replied.

“Watch where you put your hand of doom. You’ve been drinking too many beers of doom.”

“You are looking pretty good yourself, Helen of doom."

“So you want to get friendly or what?”

“The what of doom.”