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more new fic
Jun. 18th, 2017 09:53 pmChapter 1 is up and running, and now I'm on to chapter 2. I still think I can revise it rather than start it over. Chapter 3, not so sure about, not yet. Anyway, I developed my murder mystery plotline more today and came up with a feasible and actually kind of disturbing direction to take it. It brings things to a new level of urgency and suspense, so I'm trying to develop that idea some more and see what comes of it. This is holding my attention pretty good now.
My favorite part of writing fiction is undoubtedly the dialogue. I can usually produce good dialogue that is faithful to the canon voices. So for fun, I'm posting just a snippet of chapter 2 that I'm particularly pleased with. And then I am getting back to work. I've got some time and space on my hands tonight, and a good amount of caffeine. Productivity looks favorable.
* * * * * * * * *
By the time he had parted ways with Graham and reached the main entrance, he found Mickey had been there long enough to have given up on waiting for him in the fire lane and parked. More precisely, he observed her sitting on the flagstone ledge bordering the outdoor reflection pool with one leg crossed ankle over thigh and her long skirt hanging in pleated folds all around her. She was twisted sideways to face the pool and its collection of fountains as she placidly tossed in a coin near the end point of one arc of spouting water. Management might discourage the practice, but it would take a direct order to keep the young woman from exercising her right to engage in the harmless superstition of wish-making on small U.S. coinage in corporate fountains. Austin had no intention of wasting good-will on any such order. The dimming late afternoon sun highlighted the more golden tones in her shoulder-length curls and bathed her face in a soft glow, a rather picturesque effect. He paused long enough to commit the scene to memory before striding up to her and giving her shoulder a quick double-tap.
She startled and looked up at him, smiling. “You’re late,” she declared, sounding triumphant.
“What did you wish for?”
She lowered her leg and stretched the both of them together before launching herself to her feet. “Italian for dinner tonight.”
He stared at her. Often, he had to stare a moment before he spoke, because so often her responses were so impossibly simple or unexpected or outlandish, he found himself feeling like he must be missing something. “Why appeal to the magic fountain? Why not just say, ‘Austin, let’s get Italian?’”
She giggled and moved past him, keys in hand, heading toward the parking lot. “Alright then; Austin, let’s get Italian.”
“Hold up,” he ordered, taking hold of her under her arm before she got too far. “I need to go somewhere first.” He let go and charged ahead purposefully, opposite the lot, assuming she’d follow along and not really considering otherwise.
She trotted along and caught up to him quick enough. “Where?”
“Back nine,” he quipped. Her face only registered confusion, so he relented and elaborated. “The topiary garden out back; I need to see someone.”
My favorite part of writing fiction is undoubtedly the dialogue. I can usually produce good dialogue that is faithful to the canon voices. So for fun, I'm posting just a snippet of chapter 2 that I'm particularly pleased with. And then I am getting back to work. I've got some time and space on my hands tonight, and a good amount of caffeine. Productivity looks favorable.
* * * * * * * * *
By the time he had parted ways with Graham and reached the main entrance, he found Mickey had been there long enough to have given up on waiting for him in the fire lane and parked. More precisely, he observed her sitting on the flagstone ledge bordering the outdoor reflection pool with one leg crossed ankle over thigh and her long skirt hanging in pleated folds all around her. She was twisted sideways to face the pool and its collection of fountains as she placidly tossed in a coin near the end point of one arc of spouting water. Management might discourage the practice, but it would take a direct order to keep the young woman from exercising her right to engage in the harmless superstition of wish-making on small U.S. coinage in corporate fountains. Austin had no intention of wasting good-will on any such order. The dimming late afternoon sun highlighted the more golden tones in her shoulder-length curls and bathed her face in a soft glow, a rather picturesque effect. He paused long enough to commit the scene to memory before striding up to her and giving her shoulder a quick double-tap.
She startled and looked up at him, smiling. “You’re late,” she declared, sounding triumphant.
“What did you wish for?”
She lowered her leg and stretched the both of them together before launching herself to her feet. “Italian for dinner tonight.”
He stared at her. Often, he had to stare a moment before he spoke, because so often her responses were so impossibly simple or unexpected or outlandish, he found himself feeling like he must be missing something. “Why appeal to the magic fountain? Why not just say, ‘Austin, let’s get Italian?’”
She giggled and moved past him, keys in hand, heading toward the parking lot. “Alright then; Austin, let’s get Italian.”
“Hold up,” he ordered, taking hold of her under her arm before she got too far. “I need to go somewhere first.” He let go and charged ahead purposefully, opposite the lot, assuming she’d follow along and not really considering otherwise.
She trotted along and caught up to him quick enough. “Where?”
“Back nine,” he quipped. Her face only registered confusion, so he relented and elaborated. “The topiary garden out back; I need to see someone.”
