Lest you think...

[Jenny_Jackson]

The Insane Porn Writer, Jenny Jackson, is not serious. I present the Prologue of my latest novel. This book is coming along slowly. The complexity of the story has many twists and turns. But, it is a true mainstream mystery. I have completed four chapters, which need rewriting, but in a few months...

Opinions are requested.

Thanks.


Prologue

Dr. Carlos Montiblanco sat hunched over the work table in his small tent. He swore at the night sounds around him. The jungle frogs chirped their mating songs. There came the awful buzzing of some hideous flying monster insect that passed. But most of all, he was annoyed by the larger night animals that howled and screamed their calls in hopes of attracting a mate or a meal. Carlos was annoyed not because of the animals or their sounds. He was annoyed because he had finally found something interesting and the sounds disturbed his concentration.

Earlier in the day, one of the diggers had brought in a plastic clothes basket with pot shards. Carlos looked at them with the same utter disinterest he had for months.

“These are all the same crap I‘ve seen before. Why do you bring me this?” he demanded.

“Senior Montiblanco, Doctor Fullgate tell me to bring. So I bring,” the dark, Hispanic digger replied while trying not to cower. Carlos Montiblanco was well known for his temper. Everyone knew it could flare at the least provocation. “If you like, Senior, I will take these away.’ The digger moved to pick up the basket.

Then Carlos’ trained eye spotted something odd. In the jumble of shards was a piece with a remarkable pale, blue band.

“No. Wait a moment. You may have brought me something after all.”

Carefully, Carlos picked up the shard and placed it on the table in front of him. Then he turned back to the basket and carefully examined more of the shards. He found several with the same pale, blue band, as well as one large white painted piece that appeared to be finished in the same color and texture as the ones on the table with the blue bands. This one was most remarkable. It appeared to be about two-thirds of the bottom of the pot.

After searching the basket Carlos looked at the digger. “No, the rest of these are junk. Dump them with the others. I’ll take them back to Cusco with me and give them to the students. Without bothering to even dismiss the digger, Carlos turned back to the broken pieces he had selected. All of them were covered with the dirt and grime of ages. The largest even had what looked like a deposit of some kind attached to it. After laying the shards out in front of him, Carlos photographed them and then set to work delicately cleaning the shards.

For hours, Carlos worked with a brush and dental pick to clean away the dirt. Now it was late in the evening and he had finished cleaning the last piece. He sat and fingered the pieces hoping that one or two would fit together but that would be too much to ask. Of the seven shards not one mated to another.

Carlos was suddenly surprised. He felt something under his thumb as he fingered the largest piece. This piece seemed to come from the same bowl, but was simply the painted earthen gray-brown terracotta without the pale blue stripe the other six had. He moved the work lamp closer and picked up a large magnifying glass and stared at the broken piece. Yes, there it was. Very faint and barely visible. Carlos tilted the piece toward the light.

Carlos stared open-mouthed. He blinked and stared again. For a moment Carlos sat back in his chair and held the pottery piece to his chest, eyes closed as if praying. Then he opened his eyes and stood, yelling at his assistant, Fernando.

“We must inform Doctor Fullgate immediately. There is great danger,” he yelled.

Fernando had been dozing at his own table outside. He rose at the sound of Carlos’ voice and ambled, yawning into the tent. “Yes, Senior Montiblanco? What do you want?”

“Run and tell Doctor Fullgate, I need to see him immediately. This is important.”

“I will tell one of the diggers to go,” Fernando said with a yawn. “It is late but there are a few still up drinking tequate’.”

“No. You go yourself. And hurry.” Carlos turned back to the shards in front of him. Then he looked up at Fernando. “Why are you still standing there? I said run.” Carlos tone now had turned dark. Fernando, too, knew the vicious side of the Senior Doctor Carlos Montiblanco. He turned on his heel and moved quickly into the night.

Carlos again ran his fingers over the shard, turning it this way and that. Finally he laid it down on the table and held the magnifying glass over it. He stared, wondering. An amused smile crossed his lips.

Concentrating as he was, Carlos did not hear the soft whisper of the footsteps on the dirt floor of his tent as a dark figure entered his tent. When he did, it was too late. Carlos started to say something just as the blade of the machete struck the side of his neck, nearly decapitating him. His body gave a single spasmodic twitch then slumped over the table and did not move again.

 

[MarshAlien]

The Insane Porn Writer, Jenny Jackson, is not serious. I present the Prologue of my latest novel. This book is coming along slowly. The complexity of the story has many twists and turns. But, it is a true mainstream mystery. I have completed four chapters, which need rewriting, but in a few months...

Opinions are requested.

Thanks.

I'm in. Send the rest when it's done.

Or is this one of those things we'll have to pay money for?

Either way, I'm in.

Two things. It does need a thorough edit, but you probably know that. In particular, "Senior" just bothered me. I know you mean the Spanish "senor" with that curly thing over the "n," but seeing it rendered phonetically grated on my poor wittle ears. Maybe I shouldn't read aloud. I marked a few other typos/thingies that I saw.

Second, the first paragraph wasn't as good as the rest. The sentence that begins "There came" seemed out of place. It seemed to me you would do better with a longer second sentence: He swore at the night sounds around him: the jungle frogs chirping their mating songs, the awful buzzing of some hideous flying monster insect that passed. Then, the last sentences seem inconsistent. He wasn't annoyed because of the animals' sounds; he was annoyed because the sounds disturbed his concentration. If there's a difference there, it escapes me. (not hard to do, i admit).

Thanks for letting us read it, Jen.

Prologue

Dr. Carlos Montiblanco sat hunched over the work table in his small tent. He swore at the night sounds around him. The jungle frogs chirped their mating songs. There came the awful buzzing of some hideous flying monster insect that passed. But most of all, he was annoyed by the larger night animals that howled and screamed their calls in hopes of attracting a mate or a meal. Carlos was annoyed not because of the animals or their sounds. He was annoyed because he had finally found something interesting and the sounds disturbed his concentration.

Earlier in the day, one of the diggers had brought in a plastic clothes basket with pot shards. Carlos looked at them with the same utter disinterest he had for months.

“These are all the same crap I‘ve seen before. Why do you bring me this?” he demanded.

“Senior Montiblanco, Doctor Fullgate tell me to bring. So I bring,” the dark, [no comma] Hispanic digger replied while trying not to cower. Carlos Montiblanco was well known for his temper. Everyone knew it could flare at the least provocation. “If you like, Senior, I will take these away.’ The digger moved to pick up the basket.

Then Carlos’ trained eye spotted something odd. In the jumble of shards was a piece with a remarkable pale, blue band.[later you refer to it as pale blue, without the comma, which is a little different than a band that is pale and blue]

“No. Wait a moment. You may have brought me something after all.”

Carefully, Carlos picked up the shard and placed it on the table in front of him. Then he turned back to the basket and carefully examined more of the shards. He found several with the same pale, blue band, as well as one large white painted piece that appeared to be finished in the same color and texture as the ones on the table with the blue bands. This one was most remarkable. It appeared to be about two-thirds of the bottom of the pot.

After searching the basket Carlos looked at the digger. “No, the rest of these are junk. Dump them with the others. I’ll take them back to Cusco with me and give them to the students." Without bothering to even dismiss the digger, Carlos turned back to the broken pieces he had selected. All of them were covered with the dirt and grime of ages. The largest even had what looked like a deposit of some kind attached to it. After laying the shards out in front of him, Carlos photographed them and then set to work delicately cleaning the shards.

For hours, Carlos worked with a brush and dental pick to clean away the dirt. Now it was late in the evening and he had finished cleaning the last piece. He sat and fingered the pieces hoping that one or two would fit together. That would be too much to ask. Of the seven shards not one mated to another.

Carlos was suddenly surprised. He felt something under his thumb as he fingered the largest piece. This piece seemed to come from the same bowl, but was simply the painted earthen gray-brown terracotta without the pale blue stripe the other six had. He moved the work lamp closer and picked up a large magnifying glass and stared at the broken piece. Yes, there it was. Very faint and barely visible. Carlos tilted the piece toward the light.

Carlos stared open-mouthed. He blinked and stared again. For a moment Carlos sat back in his chair and held the pottery piece to his chest, eyes closed as if praying. Then he opened his eyes and stood, yelling at his assistant, Fernando.

“We must inform Doctor Fullgate immediately. There is great danger,” he yelled.[you already told us he was yelling]

Fernando had been dozing at his own table outside. He rose at the sound of Carlos’ voice and ambled, yawning, into the tent. “Yes, Senior Montiblanco? What do you want?”

“Run and tell Doctor Fullgate, I need to see him immediately. This is important.”

“I will tell one of the diggers to go,” Fernando said with a yawn. “It is late but there are a few still up drinking tequate’.”

“No. You go yourself. And hurry.” Carlos turned back to the shards in front of him. Then he looked up at Fernando. “Why are you still standing there? I said run.” Carlos' tone now - don't need had turned dark. Fernando, too, knew the vicious side of the Senior Doctor Carlos Montiblanco. He turned on his heel and moved quickly into the night.

Carlos again ran his fingers over the shard, turning it this way and that. Finally he laid it down on the table and held the magnifying glass over it. He stared, wondering. An amused smile crossed his lips.

Concentrating as he was, Carlos did not hear the soft whisper of the footsteps on the dirt floor of his tent as a dark figure entered his tent. When he did, it was too late. Carlos started to say something just as the blade of the machete struck the side of his neck, nearly decapitating him. His body gave a single spasmodic twitch then slumped over the table and did not move again.

 

[Jenny_Jackson]

You are right, Marsh. When the book is done, it will go to my editor. It looks like about 20 chapters of 7-8000 words each, so it will be a while. I've found that there are so many twists and turns in the plot that I have to keep going back and rewriting to add or delete clues to make the plot come out right with the ending.

This is prolly the toughest thing I've tried so far. But I'm thinking of having it done by March or April.

The couple things you picked out are additions that were made for elements that occur later, which I won't explain here. In the end it will all be smoothed out.

JJ

 

[mjl2010]

Sounds like the kind of thing I like to read.

I'll be waiting to read the rest of it.



MJL

 

[rachlou]

The small snippet you have posted is intriguing and definitely whets the appetite for more.

 

[EveAnna]

You've got my interest right from the start, I'd quite happily carry on reading it, even without it being the final draft - can't really add any criticism, sorry.

 

[Varian P]

Hi, Jenny.

With the hopes of being helpful, not discouraging, I'm going to give you my special tear-it-to-shreds treatment, reserved especially for those trying to perfect things ultimately to be submitted for publication.

Dr. Carlos Montiblanco sat hunched over the work table in his small tent. He swore at the night sounds around him. The jungle frogs chirped their mating songs. There came the awful buzzing of some hideous flying monster insect that passed. But most of all, he was annoyed by the larger night animals that howled and screamed their calls in hopes of attracting a mate or a meal. Carlos was annoyed not because of the animals or their sounds. He was annoyed because he had finally found something interesting and the sounds disturbed his concentration.

There's some great imagery, here, but structurally, I think this paragraph needs some work, especially as an opening paragraph, since it needs to suck the reader in and make her go running to the cash register with your twenty-five dollar hard cover.

Excepting one, all your sentences have the same subject-verb starting formula, which makes it feel repetitive and choppy. Easy fix.

I don't know if the annoyed/annoyed repetition works so well—you could consider eliding those two sentences, simultaneously killing one of those subject-verb starts.

One note on content—are there animals that howl and scream to attract prey? I'd think it would have the opposite effect, so it just rang odd to me.

“Senior Montiblanco, Doctor Fullgate tell me to bring. So I bring,” the dark, Hispanic digger replied while trying not to cower.

I seem to be on a jag about “Hispanic”, but this bothered me a little, just because you're losing an opportunity to convey a lot more with a better word. Unless you're intentionally holding back, it would be better to let the ethnic identity of the “Hispanic” guy tell us more about where Montiblanco is. Is he an inidgenous Mayan? A Uruguayan Mestizo?

All of them were covered with the dirt and grime of ages. The largest even had what looked like a deposit of some kind attached to it.

If Montiblanco is an archeologist, or something in that field, I'd think his assessment of the debris clinging to the artifacts would be more scholarly and specific. These are the kinds of details that make me believe in a character, versus feeling like someone wrote a story. (And I'm the first to confess I never do the research I ought to, to tell my own stories, but...)

After laying the shards out in front of him, Carlos photographed them and then set to work delicately cleaning the shards.

Again, the repetition (shards/shards) hung me up.

a brush and dental pick

Do they really use dental picks? Or do they have special tools that we, the uninitiated, think look like dental picks?

he had finished cleaning the last piece. He sat and fingered the pieces

Repetition.

would fit together but that would be too much to ask. Of the seven shards not one mated to another.

Excellent. Not only did you nicely vary the verbs, but “mated” is such an apt word here.

he fingered the largest piece. This piece...and picked up a large magnifying glass and stared at the broken piece.

Repetition. “Fragment” could be a good alternative to “piece” and “shard.”

He turned on his heel and moved quickly into the night.

“moved quickly” doesn't convey much hurry. “Plunged into the night,” or “”Darted into the night,” or something like that might make the reader better feel the haste.

Carlos did not hear the soft whisper of the footsteps

“soft” seems redundant, there.

Carlos started to say something just as the blade of the machete struck the side of his neck

This is another spot where you may be creating a perception of too much time, when action is happening fast (something I seriously struggle with, myself). I think something like this would convey the suddenness better:

As his lips opened, the machete hacked into Carlos' neck, cutting off a scream and nearly severing his head.

With all the nitpicking safely behind me, I'll say it's a potentially fun premise—you've got me intrigued, wanting to know what they've disturbed/angered/awoken with their dig, and hoping there'll be some good vengeance on past injustices. You did a good job of making me despise Carlos in a short time, and I kind of enjoyed watching him get chopped apart. Who does the guy think he is, Columbus?

I hope there's something helpful, in all of that. Good luck writing and publishing!

-Varian

 

[Jenny_Jackson]

Hi, Jenny.

With the hopes of being helpful, not discouraging, I'm going to give you my special tear-it-to-shreds treatment, reserved especially for those trying to perfect things ultimately to be submitted for publication.


With all the nitpicking safely behind me, I'll say it's a potentially fun premise—you've got me intrigued, wanting to know what they've disturbed/angered/awoken with their dig, and hoping there'll be some good vengeance on past injustices. You did a good job of making me despise Carlos in a short time, and I kind of enjoyed watching him get chopped apart. Who does the guy think he is, Columbus?

I hope there's something helpful, in all of that. Good luck writing and publishing!

-Varian

Virian,
You find out who Carlos really is in Chapter One. The Prolog is quite short and becomes longer as the story unfolds in my mind, so it's far from finished.

This is the kind of Archeological Site I worked on during my undergraduate summers. And yes, they do use dental picks, toothbrushes and so on, especially if the shard is particularly interesting.

To be honest I have only a foggy idea of how the story ends. but I do know, through Chapter Six, what clues are found and the story involves modern day tomb robbers. Obviously, the murderer is one of the tomb robbers, but why is another matter.

All the clues that have been or will be discovered will be included in the Prolog in one form or another. Already there are four, but none of them are obvious. I suspect the prolog will be the last thing I have to rewrite to smooth out the language, readability and make sure I don't give too much away.

And thanks for your thoughts, V

JJ

 

[Jenny_Jackson]

Ok... I've actually been working on this. The prolog has been rewritten several times and the story is sitting in chapter 4. This is unedited so...

Chapter One

“Alright, Fernando. I’m coming,” said an irritated Doctor Albert Fullgate as he hobbled along behind the younger man, leaning heavily on his cane. “We will get there in plenty of time. These artifacts have been here for eight hundred years. I see no reason to hurry.” In fact, Doctor Albert Fullgate, Phd., and Professor Emeritus at the University of Chicago never hurried, even when he was late. People were supposed to wait for him because of his age and stature within the academic community.

Doctor Fullgate stopped fifty feet from Montiblanco’s tent to turn and survey the dig. Even at this late hour, the trenches were lighted with gas lamps while associates worked at their jobs as they dillagently unearthed artifacts with the care of a mother tending a newborn. The associates knew as well as Fullgate how precious each and every artifact was. They were careful to photograph every step in the process to show where the artifact was found and equally careful measurements were taken to show at what depth it was found. Finally, every artifact was meticulously plotted on a map to show the exact placement relative to other artifacts in the area. The process was both daunting and painstaking.

As Fullgate looked over the dig, his dig was the way he thought of it, he had the feeling of a man of importance, a man respected by most of his colleagues and held in jealous regard by the rest. The fact that Albert Fullgate had not held a brush to an artifact in nearly twenty years did not bother him. “After all,” he thought, “Who’s name goes on the papers detailing his dig that would be published in Archeology Today?”

With these thoughts in mind, Fullgate turned back toward Montiblanco’s tent and began his slow walk again. At the door opening he said, “Ok, Carlos. What is so important that you drag me away from my dinner and a perfectly delightful bottle of port?” Fullgate stepped into the tent.

“Damn it, man. Wake up. I didn’t walk all the way over here to watch you sleep.” Then to Fernando, “Wake him up, Francisco or whatever your name is. And be quick about it.”

Fernando moved to Carlos Montiblanco and shook his shoulder. Then he looked at the blood on his hand. “Oh my God,” was all he could say as he stared at his hand.

Fullgate moved forward and struck Montiblanco’s body across the back with his cane. “Wake up man. My dinner is getting cold. Damn rude of you.”

“I don’t think he can hear you Doctor. He’s dead,” Fernando said holding out his blood covered hand.

“No. No. That’s not right. He’s interrupting my dinner. Wake up, Montiblanco,” Fullgate said striking the body with his cane again.

Fullgate was now more irritated than ever. He shook Montiblanco’s shoulder roughly. The body slid off the chair onto the dirt floor. The head lolled at an impossible angle as the body lay there.

“By God. I think you’re right. Who could have done such a thing? And during the dinner hour at that.” Fullgate backed away, nearly falling as he stumbled at the doorway. “Yes. We need to call the authorities immediately. They will sort this out for us. I’ll have Jennifer do it right after dinner.” With this monumental decision made, Fullgate turned and began his ambling pace back to his own tent. All the way back, Fullgate muttered to himself. By the time he reached his waiting dinner, he had nearly forgotten all about the scene in Montiblanco’s tent.

After he finished dinner, Doctor Fullgate sat in his favorite chair and surveyed his dig. He knew there was something he had forgotten but could not seem to remember.

“Francisco, what was Jennifer supposed to do?” he asked.

“Call the authorities in Cusco, Doctor.”

“Oh yes. That’s right. Call the authorities.” Fullgate was satisfied he had remembered. “Well, don’t just stand there, man. Tell her.” Fullgate raised his glass to his lips and took a long draught from the crystal glass. “Yes,” he thought to himself. “A fine port, indeed.”

Francisco had already spoken to Fullgate’s assistant, Doctor Jennifer Mathews. Doctor Mathews was herself an accomplished archeologist and had been with Fullgate for some seven years. She was the author of Fullgate’s published papers, not Fullgate, at all. Friends and colleagues had asked Mathews for a number of years why she had never been given a dig of her own. Her answer was always the same, “Me? A woman? Not connected in the archeology community? When that old fool, Fullgate, dies, I may inherit his.”

With the exception of the last, Mathews analysis was correct. Women, especially women not heavily connected in the community, were never given their own projects. As for inheriting Fullgate’s dig, that was not likely either. Even so, Jennifer Mathews reputation was well known by many other archeologists and that gave her enough satisfaction for the time being. Still, she dreamed of her own dig, someday…

Jennifer Mathews was already at Montiblanco’s tent. She had made a quick survey of the body and come to the conclusion that Fernando was correct. “Damn. Now what?” she wondered. Jennifer drew a deep breath and scratched her cheek in thought. “If we call in the authorities, they’ll shut down the dig. If we don’t, then what?” Jennifer stood looking at the corps for some time. Then she turned to the table to look at the items he had been working on. From long training, she took out her Nikon digital camera and photographed the table top before leaning closer to examine the six shards that lay there. To her eyes, there was nothing unusual. These were just six pieces of a broken clay bowl. The pieces seemed to her eyes to all be from the same bowl. Each had a pale blue strip at the rim. The shards themselves were a gray-brown color not uncommon to other shards found in the area. But still, the pale blue strip was quite different. She had never seen anything quite like it. “Damn, Montiblanco is the expert in these, not me,” she thought out loud. “And why kill him? There really isn’t anything valuable about shards. They’re just broken pots that were thrown away. That’s like being murdered for your garbage,” she went on. “It must be something else.”

The more Jennifer Mathews thought about it, the less likely it seemed to her that Montiblanco’s murder had anything to do with the dig. “Maybe a jealous boyfriend or something. I wonder if he was a womanizer,” she thought. In truth, neither she nor anyone else at the dig really knew Carlos very well. He had only been there for a few months and kept to himself. Jennifer had met him several times before he arrived at University talks and professional meetings, but to say she knew him was a stretch. Montiblanco was just this funny little Peruvian guy who lived with his broken pots. That was it. He did have an impressive reputation. That was the reason old Fullgate hired him in the first place. But, that was the professional Doctor Carlos Montiblanco. Who knew the personal man? Certainly not her. Not anyone at the dig as far as she knew. This was such a mystery.

Slowly Jennifer walked to Doctor Fullgate’s tent deep in thought. As she entered Fullgate’s tent she said, “This is quite a mess, Albert.”

“Fullgate looked up from his wine glass. “Yes, yes. We’ve barely gotten to the tomb and the season is drawing to a close.”

“No, Albert. I mean Montiblanco.”

“Oh yes. Montiblanco. Fine archeologist. Damn shame about him, really.”

“Damn shame someone murdered him, you mean.” Jennifer Mathews stared at Fullgate and wondered now just how senile the old man had really become.

“Oh, the murder. Yes. Damn shame. Couldn’t have come at a worse time. I suppose I will have to go to Cusco now and find a new ‘Pot Man’ so we can get this stuff properly catalogued.”

“Fernando told me you wanted me to report this to the authorities, Albert.”

“Yes. Yes. Let them deal with that mess. We have enough to do.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Albert. The authorities will shut down the dig while they investigate.”

“What? Shut down the dig? Why would they do that?”

“Doctor, believe me. The police will move in, close us down and hold everyone here while they probe and question and examine and hypothesize. In the end the rest of the season will be a complete loss.” Jennifer started to go on but Fullgate stopped her.

“Oh. I see what you mean. Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

“No, Albert. I have another idea that will buy us some time. Rather than the police, I will report this to the Department of Antiquities in Lima. It will take them several days, going through channels, to report this to Cusco. Then we will still have another two or three days before the police can arrive. By then hopefully we can have found the murderer and simply turn him over to them.”

“Yes, that sounds fine, Jennifer. Just take care of it,” Fullgate said settling himself back in his easy chair. “By the way, would you like a glass of this wine? It’s a very good port.” Fullgate smiled holding out an empty glass.

‘No thank you, Albert. I think I have work to do.” Jennifer turned and walked out of the tent into the night.

Outside, Jennifer stopped and looked up at the night sky, thinking, “I’m not going to get any sleep tonight.” With a sigh, she turned and walked directly to the diggers camp. At the foreman’s tent she stopped and asked, “Manuel, who was delivering shards today to Doctor Montiblanco?”

Manuel pointed to a teenager seated with some other men around a camp fire. “It was Julio. That one. The one who doesn’t shave yet.” Manuel yelled something in Spanish and beckoned to the boy. Julio stood and walked quickly to Jennifer.

“Si, Senora?”

“You brought some pot shards to Doctor Montiblanco’s tent today. What did you bring him?”

“Just broken pieces, Senora. He kept some and told me to dump the rest in the box for Cusco, like always.’

“How many did he keep? Do you remember?”

“I don’t know, Senora. Maybe five. Maybe eight. I cannot say for sure. But he was very excited.”

“Did you see the shards he kept?”

“Yes. They had a blue stripe. All of them, I think. But I’m not sure.”

Jennifer nodded her dismissal to the boy. He turned and walked back to his friends and the bottle of tequate’ they were sharing.

“Five, maybe as many as eight,” she thought as she walked back to Montiblanco’s tent. Inside the tent, Jennifer made a slow search. There was nothing she had not seen before except Carlos’ camera laying on the bed behind his chair. She picked it up and examined it. The camera was an older Canon 35 mm with a newer 28 mm zoom lens. Jennifer put the camera strap around her neck, pocketed a new roll of film and left the tent to walk to her own.

At her tent she rewound the film in the camera and opened the back to retrieve the film roll. “Damn the man. I’ll have to send this to the nearest town to be developed. Why didn’t he use a digital like everyone else,” she muttered under her breath. It only took Jennifer a few minutes to reload Montiblanco’s camera. When she was done, she put it in the top drawer of her desk, turned out the gas lantern and walked to the Ford Explorer parked outside.

The drive from the dig site to the nearest town, Manajenia, was almost thirty miles along a rough jungle road. It was a difficult drive during the day. At night it was treacherous. The Explorer bucked and bumped along the road at no more than 10 miles per hour. Jennifer did not dare go faster until the road broke out of the jungle and onto a much better traveled mountain road. The road was paved, but potholes were everywhere. Jennifer did her best to miss as many as she could, but the drive still took more than three hours.

It was after midnight when Jennifer stopped at the Manjenia hotel, parking in its covered garage. She had stayed in this hotel a number of times before. It was a rat infested building on the main street, but it was the best the little town had to offer. The owner, Armondo Alverez, slept in a room behind the desk. It was not difficult to wake him.

“Ah. Senora Doctor. Welcome,” he said with a big toothy grin that flashed a gold tooth in front. “For you, I have just the room. The sheets on the bed were changed only two days ago.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes at the thought of such luxury. Only two days ago? “And what would it cost for sheets changed just this afternoon, Armondo?”

“For you, Senora? I do it for free.” Again Armondo showed his big, toothy smile.

“Alright. Thank you.” Jennifer knew Armondo charged the American archeologists twice the usual cost. The “free” clean sheets were well paid for.

Armondo, yelled in Spanish to his fat wife. The woman appeared in her night dress with sheets under her arm and climbed the stairs while Jennifer counted out ten bills.

“Gracias, Senora Doctor,” Armondo said pocketing the money. “Rosa will be done in just a moment. Please enjoy your stay.” Jennifer turned and climbed the stairs to her room for as much rest as she could get in the few hours before morning.

 

[jomar]

Ack! I came in late and was gonna post on the prologue and there you go showing us the first chapter.

Speaking of showing I like the prologue but know you can improve it. So...what Marsh and Varian said. My two cents has to do with expanding things a bit. For example:

Concentrating as he was, Carlos did not hear the soft whisper of the footsteps on the dirt floor of his tent as a dark figure entered his tent. When he did, it was too late. Carlos started to say something just as the blade of the machete struck the side of his neck, nearly decapitating him. His body gave a single spasmodic twitch then slumped over the table and did not move again.

To me it seems like you could describe more what happened, his adrenaline surging or turning to talk thinking it was Fullgate and getting a nasty surprise, eyes wide. You know, feel it more. There are some other instances,but you get the picture.

Is this the one you mentioned to me awhile back that has multiple plot lines and spans continents? I like it. It does seem like the kind of book I read. Well, on to chapter one after a bit, maybe tomorrow since my trash TV is fast approaching.

 

[Jenny_Jackson]

Is this the one you mentioned to me awhile back that has multiple plot lines and spans continents? I like it. It does seem like the kind of book I read. Well, on to chapter one after a bit, maybe tomorrow since my trash TV is fast approaching.

Yes it is. At this point the Prolog has been rewritten seveal times and is about twice as long. It seems as I go along, I have to add clues to it to make what follows work right. As of now I'm stuck in Chapter Four and am rewriting that last part or Chapter Three. When I'm satisfied with Chapters 3 and 4, I'll post Chapter 2.

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

JJ, this story has a lot of potential, but "as is" it needs some work.

IMHO, the number one concern is lack of dramatic tension. There's an almost unbelievable lack of concern by anyone at the dig over the killing. No one, including the workers, appears concerned that someone was nearly decapitated or that the killer is, presumably, still in the area and might have more victims targeted.

There's also very little sensory detail about the setting or the character's appearance. I have trouble believing that DD (dotering doctor) could get close enough to the body to hit it on the back with his cane and yet not notice any blood. If the scene's setting were described, it might help.

Tightening the prose should help with both the tension and with the pacing, which is a bit relaxed. Here's one "for instance."

"After he finished dinner, Doctor Fullgate sat in his favorite chair and surveyed his dig." Four references to DD in one sentence is a lot. IMHO "he finished" could easily be eliminated.

Of course, a lot of those things, such as the "to her eyes" echo in the two sentences below, will be taken care of in rewriters.

To her eyes, there was nothing unusual. These were just six pieces of a broken clay bowl. The pieces seemed to her eyes

Hope some of that helps.

Rumple Foreskin

 

[Jenny_Jackson]

JJ, this story has a lot of potential, but "as is" it needs some work.

IMHO, the number one concern is lack of dramatic tension. There's an almost unbelievable lack of concern by anyone at the dig over the killing. No one, including the workers, appears concerned that someone was nearly decapitated or that the killer is, presumably, still in the area and might have more victims targeted.

There's also very little sensory detail about the setting or the character's appearance. I have trouble believing that DD (dotering doctor) could get close enough to the body to hit it on the back with his cane and yet not notice any blood. If the scene's setting were described, it might help.

Tightening the prose should help with both the tension and with the pacing, which is a bit relaxed. Here's one "for instance."

"After he finished dinner, Doctor Fullgate sat in his favorite chair and surveyed his dig." Four references to DD in one sentence is a lot. IMHO "he finished" could easily be eliminated.

Of course, a lot of those things, such as the "to her eyes" echo in the two sentences below, will be taken care of in rewriters.

To her eyes, there was nothing unusual. These were just six pieces of a broken clay bowl. The pieces seemed to her eyes

Hope some of that helps.

Rumple Foreskin

True, Rumpy. This is the result of about three rewrites already and not yet edited.

In the Prolog (as it's written now) you find that this is the moment when the body is discovered, so no one else knows about the murder. Later on, in a subsequent chapter reader finds out why and much later who and why it was done.

As far as the dottering old fool - he may need some work. I want to show him as more interested in his dinner being interupted and his own unearned prestige than anything else. Actually, he doesn't even show up again until much later in the story.

But, like I say, this is an original draft and has a long way to go before it's ready for ... where ever it goes.