Flash Fiction: The Black Knight

It was another cold October night. Once the light receded from the city, the cold crept in hot on its heels; a stark and sudden contrast to mild day before it. Surprising to others maybe, but not to me. These nights belonged to me. The police on my trail however, might argue otherwise. I can hear Molloy barking orders to his men and the receding bootfalls as some of them try to circle around and cut me off. He has no intention of catching me, but he has to chase me. That’s how this game is played. Just two men left on my tail now, Molloy and the rookie. The others are trying to flank me; not knowing their part in this performance.

Time to ascend for the final act.

I leap onto the nearest fire escape, making just enough noise to be heard. Taking his signal, Molloy orders the rookie into the building to cut me off before I can get to the rooftop. Not a bad plan, if he had gone into the right building. I’m about halfway up when Molloy reaches the bottom and begins to climb. The roof is vacant save the access door and a faded billboard. It stands one head taller than its neighbors on either side, keeping me hidden from wandering eyes. The stage is set.

“Hands where I can see them.” I hear the click of a hammer being pulled back.

“Good evening Detective. Or is it Sergeant now?”

“Sergeant, as of two days ago. I know you aren’t behind that mess on the East Side, so why were you there?” He still has his gun on me.

“I figured you’d be there and we need to talk.”

“Now there’s an understatement.” He holsters his gun and steps toward me stopping about two arm’s lengths away. “What do you know about last night, and the Captain the night before?”

“Last night is exactly why I brought you here. Seems I’ve rattled one too many cages. I think Viktor Kratov wants me out of the picture.”

“Jesus, Roy!” He runs his hand through his hair. His concern is almost funny. “Of all the criminals to piss off, you pick the Russian Kingpin? So what, you want protection? Or help killing him off?”

“I didn’t realize the police were taking such a liberal approach these days.” My sarcasm was well received. “But I can’t take a shot at him yet. But I do need to warn you. I had a brush with his enforcer, Bishop last night. He tried to ambush me and when he missed, he left a few stiffs to bait you into bringing me in for him.”

“So what’s the difference between you two then?” I think Molloy had missed his coffee this morning. “You’ve left enough bodies for me to deal with. Now you expect me to separate them into two neat piles?”

“You know my rules, John. I only hit the guys you’ve arrested and failed to convict. The dirty ones who’ve gotten away clean more than once. Bishop is an animal with a gun. You give me your file on this guy and I can stop him.”

“I’m not giving you anything until you tell me what you know about the Captain.” That gun would be making another guest appearance if I didn’t give him some answers. This won’t be pretty.

“That was me.”

“Roy, what the hell are you doing?!” And I was right. “He was a cop! One of us!”

“I agree with the first statement. But he’s been investigated by internal affairs three times in two years. Even you started to question him.”

“You’ve hated him ever since training.” He shook his head, trying to wrap it around this development.

“I hated how the system is put together. That’s why I left. He was also being paid by Kratov. That was the last nail in the coffin. We both do more for this city that he ever did. With your promotion you can do even more. If you want to shoot me for that, then go ahead. But you know this system needs me. When these scumbags slip through the cracks, someone needs to be waiting for them in the pit.”

“Don’t give me that crap Roy. You’re out here killing people, breaking the laws we both swore to uphold. But a line has to be drawn.” His voice shook. “My badge is stained with blood. Blood of the man you killed to get me promoted. And who knows how many innocent people caught in your crusade.”

“If I stop there will still be innocent blood on the streets.” I remove my mask and look Molloy straight in the eyes. “You need to decide if you want to be a Pawn who blindly follows the King’s dogma or something more.”

“This isn’t a game of chess! It’s not that simple.”

“It’s anything but simple. But it is a game. A game with no rules. But we all have parts to play.”

“When does the game stop? Where will you stop? I’ll answer you when you answer me. Don’t talk to me until then.”

The silence stretches the seconds to hours. There’s not much I can say to him.

“You have thirty seconds, then all bets are off.” Ok, even less with a time limit. He turns his back to me and moves his hand to his holster.

“If you need me, you know where to look.” The mask goes back on, and I leap to the next rooftop, leaving the closest thing I have to a friend for the waiting darkness.

 

 

 

 

Structure and Flexibility: Why a Book is Like a Bridge

As I have mentioned in a previous post, writing on a contracted timeline was a huge transition from what I was used to (which was extremely lazy and undisciplined if I’m being honest). After about six months of work on my current novel I’ve gotten the art of writing more consistently (mostly) in hand. One of the biggest lessons in this regard has been the battle between structure, flexibility, and trust.

Structure comes into play in two big ways; planning the writing itself and planning when I spend time on my writing. Outlining used to be my go to method for approaching plot. I would endlessly use bullet points and sub-points to organize and order how things would fall into place. I soon realized that while this is great on paper (pun intended), my story yields to no one and no outline (and thus my inner pantser begin his inexorable rise to power). Planning when I do the writing was surprisingly easy for me. My brain kicks into creative mode late in the evening, which happened to be the best time for me to work without interruptions and without major time constraints (who needs sleep, right?) While I have written earlier in the day at times, it takes more effort to get me going and to sustain the effort. Consistently I am a writer of the night.

This is totally what I look like while writing

Flexibility comes into play when structured planning collides with real life. I know of several writers who give themselves a certain number of “cheat” days each week or month, and I have started falling into that mindset. Creativity doesn’t always follow a schedule and life is nothing if not unpredictable. Besides the practical side of making sure I meet my deadline each month there is the mental side of letting myself relax (aka shutting up the voice that yells at me to be productive every day). The moment writing starts to feel like an obligation is the moment to step back and take a deep breath. And exhale too. Exploding isn’t going to get your writing done either.

That flexibility leads into trust. After six months I am learning to trust my abilities and instincts as a writer, and that translates into trusting what I can accomplish. Even now I step back and look at my printed manuscript and think “Wow, did I really write all of that?” It helps confirm my self-identification as a writer. There is also the less tangible idea of trusting my story. I try to write to chapters by plot and how the scenes are playing out, but I find that I have not given myself or my story enough credit. There is enough there to let the story tell itself. There is enough in terms of plot and characters without needing to “pad” the chapters. And I’m sure my editor will call me on it and cut it if I do; a good editor is part bloodhound and part axe murderer…absolutely the sort of person you want to work with, I promise. The story needs to take precedence over the word count.

Now it’s Personal…But how personal?

So this whole writing thing is pretty personal. I take characters, thoughts, situations, daydreams, fears and desires, pretty them up and slap them down on the page. Actually it sounds a bit abusive when phrased that way, but I stand by the description. Every writer, poet and artist has their own variation on the creative process, but I’ll bet they all put some of themselves into every piece. This week I’m putting myself under the magnifying glass a bit and exploring how who I am influences my writing.

One of the most obvious things is my sense of humor, as anyone who has read any of my blog posts can tell you. At times my writing voice is so cheesy, it repels the lactose intolerant. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever written a story without a snarky or sarcastic character and I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. The main character of my current WIP is a bit of a smart ass and since it’s written in the first person, it heavily shapes the story. I’ve heard from several people that they don’t usually like sci-fi, but Roger’s humor drew them into the story. To me it is a huge compliment, hearing my writing style is engaging enough to override genre preferences.

As people, we all go through stuff. Feeling and experiencing said stuff can fuel our writing, sometimes making the difference between a compelling scene and one that feels shallow. Now my book is about enhanced humans being turned into living weapons, so I can’t say I have firsthand experience with that situation. But I have lived through plenty of difficult, scary and downright ridiculous things. Regardless of what prompts it, emotions are a common human experience. If you’ve ever felt sadness, joy, anger or guilt, you can write about that feeling from firsthand experience. For example Roger has an entire research organization depending on him when he goes on combat missions in the field. I don’t, but I do know what it feels like to have someone depending on you on a daily basis. I can write about the burden, the responsibility and the sense of purpose  with just a bit more insight than if I had never experienced that.

Writing is also a way to give life to your innermost dreams and desires in big or little ways. For years I have struggled with chronic pain issues, so staying active and mobile is challenging for me. In that sense, writing about a character who is enhanced physically from the cellular level is liberating. He can outpace an Olympic sprinter, take on six men at once in unarmed combat and probably bench press a small car. I get to live through him every time I write more of his story.

Speaking of characters, books are full of them and they all have to come from somewhere. Sometimes they come from an idea, sometimes they exist for the sake of the plot, and sometimes they are based on someone you know. While I can’t say that any of my characters are complete replications of anyone, I definitely draw aspects of their personality or background from familiar sources (real and fictional). They can even be based on someone you don’t really know! I know I’ve walked away from many interactions with people thinking “I can’t imagine dealing with so and so all the time”, then I try and check myself and think “Well they’re probably not that difficult to deal with all the time.” Then my writer’s curiosity kicks in and I go “But what if they were…?” So I have characters who are the living embodiment of an interaction with a rude, impatient or ignorant individual I have crossed paths with. It almost becomes a challenge to create someone whose life story justifies them being a jerk.

All of the above means that everything that happens to me in life can be brought into my writing somehow. But there’s another side to this…a dark side *heavy breathing*. I slip into book-fueled day dreams when I should be focusing on other things or people. I can’t (and don’t want to) turn off that imagination, but it makes for some pretty awkward moments when you’re caught not listening and have to explain or come up with an excuse. (“Sorry, I was thinking about how a cybernetically enhanced soldier would respond to a stun gun” doesn’t fly with most people) But if being distracted now and again is the price I have to pay to keep writing I’ll take it. That’s totally worth it for all this power. UNLIMITED POWER!…what do you mean all this writing may have gone to my head?

 

Productive Procrastination

I thought this topic would be fitting for two reasons. Firstly, last night I found myself almost incapable of starting the next chapter of my novel. Secondly, I had no idea what this blog post would be about until I sat down to start writing it. My pantsing tendencies are starting to bleed into other areas of life. Today I am here to make a pretty controversial claim. Procrastination is good.

Perhaps I should elaborate before I am pelted with rotten fruit and bricks for my blasphemy. Procrastination CAN be good*

*Void where prohibited, certain restrictions may apply

As writers, or creative people in general, there will be times when we just can’t bring ourselves to write. We’re all human (I’m assuming), life happens. Sometimes we’re feeling burned out, sick or just not feeling the whole writing thing that day. Maybe your muse is on a union break. Just the other night I was recovering from a really long day and did not have the mental reserves to piece together a particularly complicated scene. So I put it away. Then I heard that intrusive voice saying “You’re wasting time, you should be doing something productive.” Since then I have been thinking about ways to fill that writing time with non writing things (and shut that little jerk up).

Reading! Words are important, books are full of them! (And now you know why I’m not in sales). But as a writer, reading is absolutely essential. Just like your body can’t survive eating the same food every day, your mind needs some variety to be at its best. For all the time you spend creating your own world of words, you should also spend some time exploring other worlds. Of words. Unless you can literally travel to other worlds, in which case you should totally do that. It doesn’t matter if it’s related to your writing. If your mind is stimulated, it’s time well spent.

Beta reading. This is something I recently picked up doing. It started as an exchange with another author, but I quickly realized how much more I was getting out of it. It’s like a hybrid between writing and reading. You’re following a story, but you also have a chance to offer creative input (see my previous post on beta reading for my full length ramblings). It’s also a great way to network with other writer types and get some social support, which is a big deal coming from a hermit like myself.

Now we come to what I did instead of writing. You can always outline, daydream or spitball stuff that probably won’t survive the first draft of your work. For example, I’m going into a scene that is the start of a big revelation for my MC. It’s too much info to be dumped on the reader at once, so I started making a list of all the facts that will eventually be revealed or added together. Just by listing ideas I already had I was able to start connecting a few dots and adding new details. You can even start a separate word document so it doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to fit with the rest of your work. I went back to writing the next evening and those notes made the scene feel doable instead of this amorphous blob of ideas.

This is what it looked like before my notes.

My last suggestion is to try working on something else. If you have an old unfinished piece somewhere or an idea that hasn’t yet set foot on the page, give it your attention for a little while. It’s a nice way to keep flexing the writing muscles. I’ve done this a few times when I really needed to write, but editing was up next on the to do list. Look for a writing prompt, indulge in a fan fic or whatever tickles your fancy. Even if it’s not the story you were planning, you’re still writing.

So these are all things in my mind that are good ways to spend some time that was earmarked for writing. As long as you’re doing something that benefits you as a writer, I think it is time well spent even if it wasn’t how you planned it. See, my inner pantser is showing again. This list isn’t comprehensive obviously. Feel free to do whatever helps you. For me it’s about silencing that nagging little voice and proving to myself that I don’t have to be productive every single moment to meet my goals. I’ve had my share of off days and surprises, but I haven’t missed a deadline yet. So take that, nagging little voice! And on that note, I rest my case in defense of procrastination; a case that called the gelatinous cube to the stand for testimony. I would make the best lawyer ever.