Are you ready for some more of my wisdom about writing?
Well, I don't know how much is wisdom and how much is desperation, ha ha.
When I began writing fiction, the first thing I did was go to the library to see what it had in the way of helps. I searched the card catalog (this was before the spread of the internet) for "How to write" and found several great books on the subject. Books by Dean Koontz, Jack Bickham, Ronald Tobias, among others I can't recall right now. To me, the best was "How to Write Best Selling Fiction," by Dean Koontz. That may be the reason I quote him so much.
As I thought about a story line, I realized I needed to do some research. The first things I consulted, believe it or not, were my high school year books. Since I'd decided I wanted my novel to be set there, I wanted to make sure I described things as accurately as I could. Several of you have commented in your reviews how they could visualize the places and events I described in "Bridgetown High." Then, knowing I would likely portray kids with drugs, I did research into drug addiction and effects of taking mentamphetamines with alcohol. That research brought me to write one of the most dramatic scenes in the book, but it also let me know when I've overdone it.
Here is an exerpt of that scene. To give you a bit of lead up, Alan had bought meth and stole some beer for a drug party. Then he and Jeff, Genie, and Chris went for a joy ride across the Carquinez Bridge. There's more, but I have to keep something for you to wonder about, he he he. I also won't give you the outcome of this little chase scene, he he he. Enjoy!
“No! Bobby, no!” Chris yelled as
Alan leaned over the steering wheel so Bobby could push the door open and get
out.
Bobby didn’t answer. Then Genie saw
the pistol in his hand.
“Bobby,” Chris screamed. “Where you
get that?”
Chris grabbed Bobby’s shirt as he
climbed out, “Bobby, No! Don’ do it. Get back in here!” Tears were streaming
down Chris’s face as she tried to hold onto his shirt, but he pulled away from
her. Then she screamed again, this time in Spanish.
“Bobby,” Genie screamed too. “Get
back in here. You’re going to get hurt.” She wanted to say killed, but couldn’t
bring herself to say it.
Horns blared as cars passed, barely
brushing past Bobby and Alan’s open door. He dodged one car, then another, then
dashed to the front of Alan’s car, then to the narrow sidewalk.
Chris reverted to English. “Bobby!
In the name of God, get back in here. You acting crazy,” she yelled at him. “You
loco man!” But he just stared down at the ship under the bridge. “You going get
kill out there,” she kept yelling. “Please! Get back here. Oh, my God, Mother
Mary, and Joseph!” Chris and Genie made the sign of the cross together.
“I got to see this too,” Jeff said,
as he pushed Linda’s seat forward and climbed out to join his friend.
Genie dropped her face into her
hands, forgetting for the moment her migraine. Then popping noises made her
look up again. Bobby was shooting at the ship as more cars passed by, honking.
Alan rolled his window down and
shouted, “Get in, quick! Cops are coming!”
Genie glanced behind them and saw
the red flashing lights from an approaching squad car. Above the noise from the
stereo, she could faintly hear the wail of its siren. She prayed the officer
would stop them before somebody got hurt.
Jeff jumped back in next to Genie
while Bobby ran back around the front of the car. As he darted to the door,
another car passed at that same moment. Genie felt and heard the hard, dull
thump, and she and Chris screamed as Bobby’s body hurtled into the air, into
the path of another car.
Genie’s stomach wrenched as Bobby’s
blood splattered across the windshields of both cars and his body bounced again
on the pavement where another car screeched to a halt over his lifeless body.
Bobby’s gun slid across the freeway
toward Alan’s car. He opened the car door to retrieve it and tossed it to Jeff.
“Here. Hold on to it.”
Traffic on the northbound span came
to a quick halt. Through her tears, Genie could see the highway patrol car
struggling through the tangled traffic. Please hurry! she prayed.
Alan swore and stomped on the gas
pedal, peeling rubber.
“Alan, stop!” Chris screamed,
slapping the back of Alan’s head. “You leave Bobby. You can no leave him. Stop!”
“No way,” Alan said, ducking
forward and swearing. “He’s dead. We got to get out of here before that cop
gets us.”
At the toll booth at the end of the
bridge, two black-and-white highway patrol cars waited with red lights
flashing, ready to intercept Alan.
Alan swore again as he hit the
brakes and spun a sharp left. He slid into the turn out before the toll plaza’s
office building. It was designed for people to turn around if they’d gotten on
the bridge by accident. Alan skidded on some loose gravel, then merged with the
southbound traffic back to Crockett.
While Chris screamed, Genie glanced
out the back window again. As she hoped, the officers had joined the chase.
Turning back to the front, she held
on tight as Alan cut in-and-out of traffic again. He had a crazed look in his
eyes.
The bridge, cars, and everything
passed in a blur. Alan was going to kill all of them. Genie knew it.
All the while, Linda just stared
out the front window, a blank expression on her face, while Chris screamed at
Alan, in Spanish again.
Genie was too frightened to speak,
or even scream. She knew Alan wasn’t in his right mind, and she struggled to
keep bile from rising in her throat.
Jeff, bouncing in his seat, yelled,
“Turn off, Al. I know a place we can hide in Crockett where they can’t find us.”
Alan cut across two traffic lanes
in front of other cars that honked as he did, and veered off onto the exit.
The highway patrol cars were a
half-mile behind them. Please hurry! she prayed again.
Alan and Jeff both swore and Genie
looked back to the front. A county sheriff’s squad car was blocking the end of
the off-ramp, a deputy stood beside the car with his gun in one hand, and a
high-powered flashlight in the other. He aimed both it at Alan.
Alan targeted his car to the rear
end of the squad car, like a demolition derby, and stomped on the gas pedal. “AAAAAHHHHH!”
he screamed.
Genie dropped to the floor and
Chris fell on top of her, still screaming in Spanish. This was it.
Genie felt a strong jolt and heard
breaking glass and clashing metal. Unable to control it any longer, she vomited
on the floor, then felt the car accelerate again. It wasn’t over.
Chris fell silent for a moment and
sat back up.
Ignoring the sickening slime on her
hands and chin, Genie crawled back to her seat, too.
The hood of Alan’s car was
crumpled, but the collision hadn’t been enough to stop him.
Genie looked out the rear window as
the squad car’s gas tank exploded, and the sheriff’s deputy ran from the
flames.
Chris prayed her rosary in Spanish,
and Genie decided a prayer wouldn’t hurt her either. Dear God, help! She
couldn’t think of anything more to say, but kept repeating the words in her
mind, genuflecting with each repetition.
So, did you enjoy that? There's more like that in the book, "Bridgetown High." Check it out.
Comments