 Action/Adventure: April 08, 2009 Issue [#2993] |
  Action/Adventure
This week: Edited by: W.D.Wilcox  
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Bring On The Action!
Sometimes as writers we forget to show everything when the action speeds up and the conflict gets hot-and heavy.
When everything appears to be happening really fast, take your time and describe each movement in detail.
By slowing down time and catching every moment of an action sequence, your reader will feel as if they are right in the scene.
“Look out!” Jim shouted, and Henry snapped his gaze back to the windshield.
The Jeep had just topped the steep rise of a tree-covered ridge. The snow here was thicker than ever, but Henry was running with the high beams on and clearly saw the person sitting in the road about a hundred feet ahead—a person wearing a duffel coat, an orange vest that blew backward like Superman’s cape in the strengthening wind, and one of those Russian fur hats. The guy was sitting in the middle of the road like an Indian that wants to smoke-um peace pipe, and he did not move when the headlights struck him. For one moment Henry saw the sitting figure’s eyes, wide open but still, so still and bright and blank.
There was no time to stop, not with the snow. Henry twisted the wheel to the right and felt the thump as the Jeep came out of the ruts again. He caught another glimpse of the white, still face and had time to think, Why, goddam! It’s a woman.
Once out of the ruts the Jeep began to skid again. This time Henry turned against it, deliberately snowplowing the wheels to deepen the skid, knowing without even thinking about it (there was no time to think) that it was the road-sitter’s only chance. And he didn’t rate it much of one, at that.
Jim screamed, and from the corner of his eye, Henry saw him raise his hands in front of his face, palms out in a warding-off gesture. The Jeep tried to go broadside and now Henry spun the wheel back, trying to control the skid just enough so that the rear end wouldn’t smash the road-sitter’s face backward into her skull. The wheel spun with greasy, giddy ease under his gloved hands. For perhaps three seconds the Jeep shot down the snow-covered road at a forty-five-degree angle, a thing belonging partly to Henry and partly to the storm. Snow flew up and around it in a fine spray; the headlights painted the snow-slumped pines on the left side of the road in a pair of moving spots. Three seconds, not long, but just long enough. He saw the figure pass by as if she were moving instead of them, except she never moved, not even when the rusty edge of the Jeep’s bumper flirted past her with perhaps no more than an inch of snowy air between it and her face.
Missed you! Henry exulted. Then the last thread of control broke and the Jeep broached broadside. There was a juddering vibration as the wheels found the ruts again. It was still trying to turn all the way around, swapping ends, and then it hit a buried rock with a terrific thud and rolled over, first on the passenger side, the windows over there disintegrating into glittering crumbs, then over onto the roof. One side of Henry’s seatbelt broke, spilling him onto the roof on his left shoulder. His groin thumped against the steering column, producing instant leaden pain. The turnsignal stalk broke off against his thigh and he felt blood begin to run at once, soaking his jeans. Jim was yelling or screaming or both.
For several seconds the overturned Jeep’s engine continued to run, then gravity did its work and the motor died. Now it was just an overturned hulk in the road, wheels still spinning, lights shining at the snow-loaded trees, and the steady whick-thump, whick-thump of the windshield wipers.
So, what did we learn?
A lot can happen in a matter of seconds, right?
Slow the sequence down and show every detail
Put your reader in the scene and leave 'em gasping for breath. 
Until next time,
billwilcox
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How About A Good Adventure?
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This item number is not valid.
#1525883 by Not Available. |
Excerpt: The Spanish crew scrambled over the sides in a frantic hurry. The pirates had calculated expertly the length of the fuses and the time it would take to bring the fire-ship next to her victims. Down in the hold, the smoldering fuses reached the gunpowder.
The explosion was ear-splitting. A huge fireball erupted from below, sending deadly wooden missiles, combustible material aflame, and the bodies of men into the air. The force of the detonation knocked every man still on board the Magdalena flat, searing their skin with incredible heat. Smoking debris caught in the man-of-war’s sails and fell upon the decks. Fires ignited everywhere.
| | | Invalid Item
This item number is not valid.
#1537000 by Not Available. |
Excerpt: Evelyn pumped the brakes, as she struggled to regain control of her car. They were going downhill and with the engine not running, there was no power to her brakes. Her sister and brother-in-law were in the car in front, with nine year old Dana waving at her through the rear view window, as they towed her broken down vehicle.
Although she kept pushing the pedal, there was nothing there. Sweat broke out on her forehead when she saw the smiling eyes of Dana’s widen, as her car quickened and closed the gap between the two cars.
With a sickening thud, she hit their car, causing it to jolt forward. She pumped again, swearing.
| |  | To the Death (13+)
Two arch-enemies, after years of clashing with one another, face off for the last time.
#712960 by Jeff  |
Excerpt: Then it began. No more easily blocked strikes; no more holding back. Reiko launched himself at Hayden, faking a haymaker, coming in low with a body shot. He went for another, but Hayden clasped Reiko’s wrist between his hands, gaining control of the limb and forcing it backward, Reiko’s own elbow connecting with his ribs. Reiko turned his wrist over, reversing Hayden’s hold until Reiko now held Hayden’s wrist firmly. Hayden ducked underneath, darting between Reiko’s legs and scooping up his rival, heaving him over his shoulders. Reiko landed on his back with a thud, the unforgiving stone floor bruising his back.
Reiko reacted instinctively, grabbing one of Hayden’s ankles with his hands, using the leverage to pull his feet backwards, springing them into Hayden’s chest. With an ankle immobilized, the force knocked Hayden off balance, sending him to the ground. Both men scrambled to their feet, entangling immediately upon recovery. Reiko quickly gained the advantage with a side headlock, but Hayden, not to be outdone delivered a ridge-hand chop to the back of Reiko’s neck, stunning his opponent and allowing him to escape. Not wasting a second of the upper hand, Hayden kicked Reiko in the stomach as he recovered, doubling Reiko over again in setup for the double axe-handle he delivered squarely between his enemy’s shoulder blades, grounding him.
Excerpt: The bullet was released and landed effortlessly in the side of his temple. He dropped back immediately, knife still in hand. Gloria, she stared those baby blues right up at me. I told her to run, and don't look back. Finally, she listens to me. I watched her run until I couldn't see her anymore in the darkness. Then I pulled off the silencer and began shooting at the meat store window across the street. The dry cleaner's window came next. Soon the street had attracted a tired cop on the beat. He pulled a switch on a blue box, which set off an alarm. Within minutes, the street was filled with police and fire trucks and a meat wagon. The goons gave up trying to push through the roof door when I started shooting wildly into the local establishments. They knew the commotion would attract cops. I saw them run from the building. When they reached the sidewalk, they pulled Vinny's body away from the limo, got in and left.
{excerpt: The computer had allowed her enough gravity to clean herself up. She wanted to stay concealed in the shower, hiding from the terror and overwhelming reality that had already stunned her beyond repair. She forced herself to look into a small mirror--afraid of what she would find. She gasped, repulsed by the wretchedness of her own wounded flesh.
Taking a deep breath, she stared into the eyes of a corpse--a monster--a mockery of the old Jane Slaton.One eye sat a little too high. The left side of her face pulled tight across her cheekbone, lifting her mouth into a frozen grimace amid what appeared to be hundreds of criss-crossing stitches across her nose and swollen brow. No matter how hard she tried, she could not find herself in the tortured reflection. She inhabited flesh that was not her own; gazed about through eyes which did not want to answer to her will. Although she wailed and grieved, it altered nothing, affected nothing. None of her pain or crying was going to help her escape.
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This Is Where You Talk And I Listen...
faithjourney
Submitted Comment:
Thank you and bless you for this wonderful newsletter. Like you, I write what's in my head without regard to outlines, sketches, or any other "rules" that I'm supposed to follow. And like you, I've never taken a class either. I write from the heart. What you get is honest work. Tightening it up is what editing is for. Thanks - it's great to know other people use the same style to write that I do, which is no style at all. Blessed freedom!
Coolhand 
Submitted Comment:
I completely agree with your assessment on "how to write". Of course, I believe it's advantageous to learn and experiment with a wide variety of writing methods, but in the end a writer must do what works for them. I've never read a great novel that didn't break several of the "rules".
columbusadams
Submitted Comment:
Learned to play guitar the same way, I am 66 and still learning to write. Self taught and trial and error method.
Thank you Wilcox,
-Columbus Adams
Thomas
Submitted Comment:
That's more or less how I write too. I let my imagination run free. I usually have a scene in mind or a snippet of conversation that I think would be interesting to read.
I'm not big on outlines, although I do like to outline on the fly once a story starts taking off. What I do is keep a list of possible upcoming scenes for me to grab from. When I finish one, I'll grab a new one from the list and then update the list every ten or fifteen thousand words. That way I can get rid of scene ideas that no longer fit with the story.
plainsue
Submitted Comment:
I liked this newsletter! I believe in self-taught too. A instructor told me..a writer is not born over night. Well..Just gotta keep trying and I will make it someday.
Thanks,
-plainsue
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