When I 'extended' the True Surrender story in late January, it meant that I now had to re-write (or, more precisely, 'update') the synopsis.
Which is definitely NOT my favorite type of writing!
So I might have put it off just a little.
But now the synopsis has been 'done' (again) and I'm reading it out loud to myself (sometimes that helps, sometimes it doesn't), and I think ... "what a great story this is!"
It's very nice to read something after you've let it sit awhile, and realize that, by God, it's quite good. It gives me warm fuzzies.
So why isn't it in the hands of agents yet? The answer: it's the damn synopsis. It's so crucial and I'm so perfectionistic, and I think I'm just going to have to let it go. They'll either like it or they won't ... right?
Showing posts with label army fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label army fiction. Show all posts
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A True Surrender Exerpt
Below are just a few of the 6000+ words I wrote during my writing 'marathon' on late January. I thought you might like a little teaser...And if you're not already on my email list, please join!
Aaron wasn't sure what good his presence was. He sat in Cheryl's home, in her living room, and listened as the police officers recounted the details of her suicide.
She had overdosed on pills and pot.
The irony was not lost on him, and he felt physically ill.
There was apparently a note, but he wasn’t privy to the contents.
Cheryl's mom, June, sat in a chair in the corner and cried intermittently. Cheryl's younger brother (only 17 years old, he learned) sat in stony silence, as if he were numb. Which he probably was.
Only part of him registered the scene, as if from a distance. Robert took charge, of course, extracting each person's experience of the night before and that morning. Aaron recognized that he was trying to tie them together, to get a complete picture of what had gone so wrong.
Why a young woman was dead.
Robert turned to June last. "Mrs. Young," he said. "Did anything out of the ordinary happen yesterday or even the day before?"
Mrs. Young shook her head. "She went to work, she walked the dog, she watched TV..."
"Any change in her routine?" Robert said. "Any upsets with her friends?"
"Friends?" June's brow furrowed in concentration. "There was one thing. Unusual, I guess you'd say...an Army friend came to visit with her."
Aaron felt Scott stiffen beside him.
"I thought it was odd it wasn't one of you,” June continued. "But she still has friends in the Army and it's her business who she associates with..."
"June." It was unlike Scott to interrupt, and it set Aaron's nerves on edge. "Do you remember the soldier's name?"
She shook her head. "I'm not good with names," she said, "and you all look alike to me, especially with those camouflage things you wear."
Robert pulled a file folder from his briefcase and extracted a photo. "Mrs. Young, is this the man who was here?"
She took the picture with shaky hands, and dabbed her eyes with a tissue for the hundredth time. "The clothes are different," she said, "but this certainly looks like him."
Aaron saw Robert take the photo from her as if in slow motion. Somehow, he knew. He knew before Robert tilted the photo unobtrusively toward them.
Jared's head shot.
Aaron wasn't sure what good his presence was. He sat in Cheryl's home, in her living room, and listened as the police officers recounted the details of her suicide.
She had overdosed on pills and pot.
The irony was not lost on him, and he felt physically ill.
There was apparently a note, but he wasn’t privy to the contents.
Cheryl's mom, June, sat in a chair in the corner and cried intermittently. Cheryl's younger brother (only 17 years old, he learned) sat in stony silence, as if he were numb. Which he probably was.
Only part of him registered the scene, as if from a distance. Robert took charge, of course, extracting each person's experience of the night before and that morning. Aaron recognized that he was trying to tie them together, to get a complete picture of what had gone so wrong.
Why a young woman was dead.
Robert turned to June last. "Mrs. Young," he said. "Did anything out of the ordinary happen yesterday or even the day before?"
Mrs. Young shook her head. "She went to work, she walked the dog, she watched TV..."
"Any change in her routine?" Robert said. "Any upsets with her friends?"
"Friends?" June's brow furrowed in concentration. "There was one thing. Unusual, I guess you'd say...an Army friend came to visit with her."
Aaron felt Scott stiffen beside him.
"I thought it was odd it wasn't one of you,” June continued. "But she still has friends in the Army and it's her business who she associates with..."
"June." It was unlike Scott to interrupt, and it set Aaron's nerves on edge. "Do you remember the soldier's name?"
She shook her head. "I'm not good with names," she said, "and you all look alike to me, especially with those camouflage things you wear."
Robert pulled a file folder from his briefcase and extracted a photo. "Mrs. Young, is this the man who was here?"
She took the picture with shaky hands, and dabbed her eyes with a tissue for the hundredth time. "The clothes are different," she said, "but this certainly looks like him."
Aaron saw Robert take the photo from her as if in slow motion. Somehow, he knew. He knew before Robert tilted the photo unobtrusively toward them.
Jared's head shot.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Have you ever been betrayed by your best friend?
It happens to Army Major Aaron Bricewick in True Surrender...and it nearly gets him killed...
Jared took a long time to answer. "You understand how it is," he finally said. "I did what I did for the good of the mission."
"Bullshit," Aaron said. "You did what was good for you. You made a mistake and instead of owning up to it, you covered your ass. And you nearly got me killed."
"I didn't--" Jared stopped.
"Didn't what?" Aaron said. It took a supreme effort not to speak aloud the thoughts going through his mind.
"It was not supposed to happen that way," Jared said. "Things went wrong. But I did save you."
"You put my life in jeopardy, and then claim to save it?" Aaron was incredulous.
"Hey, you're okay now."
"Are you shitting me?" Aaron said. "Jared, they beat me. Threw me in a cellar. Broke my legs. Threatened to slit my neck. Does any of that sound 'okay' to you?"
Jared looked like wanted to get up and leave. Instead he cleared his throat. "So where do we go from here?"
Aaron was silent for a time. "I don't know," he finally said. "I really don't know."
WHAT WOULD YOU DO? To find out what Aaron does, join my email list so you'll know the minute the book is out!
Jared took a long time to answer. "You understand how it is," he finally said. "I did what I did for the good of the mission."
"Bullshit," Aaron said. "You did what was good for you. You made a mistake and instead of owning up to it, you covered your ass. And you nearly got me killed."
"I didn't--" Jared stopped.
"Didn't what?" Aaron said. It took a supreme effort not to speak aloud the thoughts going through his mind.
"It was not supposed to happen that way," Jared said. "Things went wrong. But I did save you."
"You put my life in jeopardy, and then claim to save it?" Aaron was incredulous.
"Hey, you're okay now."
"Are you shitting me?" Aaron said. "Jared, they beat me. Threw me in a cellar. Broke my legs. Threatened to slit my neck. Does any of that sound 'okay' to you?"
Jared looked like wanted to get up and leave. Instead he cleared his throat. "So where do we go from here?"
Aaron was silent for a time. "I don't know," he finally said. "I really don't know."
WHAT WOULD YOU DO? To find out what Aaron does, join my email list so you'll know the minute the book is out!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
