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Monday, September 12, 2016

#SonofaPitch #6: Dead & Buried

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.


Title: Dead & Buried
Category and Genre: Adult, Historical Mystery
Word Count: 90,000

Query:
Will Dwyer is a police constable and a convicted thief, but that's common in Van Diemen's Land, where the police are poorly paid and the labour force consists mostly of convicts. He is tired of being looked down on for being a felon, no matter how hard he works. When he has to take charge of an outlaw found dead in the bush, Will is subjected to one dismissive comment too many. He resolves to find killer, even if it takes him into parts of town he's been warned off, and once he apprehends them, he'll earn himself a pardon and be just as good as the free men who sneer at him.

Nobody wants to help Will investigate. Not his partner, not the rich man who found the body, and not his new friend Luke, whose scorn inspired the quest. But Will persists, trudging through the streets and taprooms of Hobart Town, until his investigation uncovers a secret that endangers Luke and negates the work he has so far down. Faced with increasing self-doubt, Will has a choice: continue his fruitless quest at the risk of betraying his friend, or stick to patrolling the streets and accept that those that look down on him are right.


First 250 Words:

I am a constable at Hobart Town. On the morning of the fifth of November, I was in the taproom of the Duke of Wellington when I saw a crowd coming down the street, following, as best I could tell, a man with a horse. Not a man on a horse, but a man walking beside a horse.

Above them, the sun shone bright in a blue sky, another day of no rain with not even a wisp of cloud. In here, in this tap-room, it was shaded and cool, even in the doorway, and the mug of ale in my hand was just a mouthful from being full. A waste of good coin to put it aside now, and if I waited long enough, there was always a chance whoever was actually on duty would arrive to take care of the crowd.

I wished they'd hurry.

"Something has your interest there," said a deep voice. A stool scraped over the floor and then the big hulk of Pete Woodrow joined me in the doorway, or behind me, there not being enough room for both of us. "That's quite a gathering up the road. Shouldn't you be bothering them, lad?"

The mug I held was smooth under my fingers, the ale within would be just as smooth as it slide down my throat, its warmth spreading out through the rest of my body. After being roused from my bed at some unholy hour this morning, I deserved this.

6 comments:

  1. Will Dwyer is a police constable and a convicted thief, but that's common in Van Diemen's Land, where the police are poorly paid and the labour force consists mostly of convicts [love this first line]. He is tired of being looked down on for being a felon, no matter how hard he works. When he has to take charge of an outlaw found dead in the bush [take charge of the case, you mean?], Will is subjected to one dismissive comment too many. He resolves to find killer, even if it takes him into parts of town he's been warned off, and once he apprehends them, he'll earn himself a pardon and be just as good as the free men who sneer at him.

    Nobody wants to help Will investigate. Not his partner, not the rich man who found the body, and not his new friend Luke, whose scorn inspired the quest [wait, why are they friends when Luke was a jerk to him?]. But Will persists, trudging through the streets and taprooms of Hobart Town, until his investigation uncovers a secret that endangers Luke and negates the work he has so far down [is this supposed to be “so far done?”]. Faced with increasing self-doubt, Will has a choice: continue his fruitless quest at the risk of betraying his friend, or stick to patrolling the streets and accept that those that look down on him are right.
    I love the 250. I love how it starts out sounding like a police report. You’re giving me such good visuals here, and such a good sense of your character.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you! I'm glad someone else got what I was trying to do with the opening :)

      You did manage to put your finger on the big flaw in query (why are they friends if...). I was hoping no one would notice ;)

      "Take charge" meaning to take responsibility for, here. It's the right term but does it sound wrong?

      Delete
  2. Query:
    Will Dwyer is a police constable and a convicted thief, but that's common in Van Diemen's Land, where the police are poorly paid and the labour force consists mostly of convicts. He is tired of being looked down on for being a felon, no matter how hard he works. When he has to take charge of an outlaw found dead in the bush, Will is subjected to one dismissive comment too many. He resolves to find (the) killer, even if it takes him into parts of town he's been warned off, and once he apprehends them, he'll earn himself a pardon and be just as good as the free men who sneer at him. (Nice set-up! We know the mc, what he wants, and what he’s going to do to get it!)

    Nobody wants to help Will investigate. (Oh. Well then.) Not his partner, not the rich man who found the body, and not his new friend Luke, whose scorn inspired the quest (How did he inspire the quest?). But Will persists, trudging through the streets and taprooms of Hobart Town, until his investigation uncovers a secret that endangers Luke (Endangers how? His life?) and negates the work he has so far down(done so far?). Faced with increasing self-doubt, Will has a choice: continue his fruitless quest at the risk of betraying his friend, or stick to patrolling the streets and accept that those that look down on him are right.

    I don’t have much to add other than what I put in the query. Overall, I like it.


    First 250 Words:
    I am a constable at Hobart Town. On the morning of the fifth of November, I was in the taproom of the Duke of Wellington when I saw a crowd coming down the street, following, as best I could tell, a man with a horse. Not a man on a horse, but a man walking beside a horse.

    Above them, the sun shone bright in a blue sky, another day of no rain with not even a wisp of cloud. In here, in this tap-room, it was shaded and cool, even in the doorway, and the mug of ale in my hand was just a mouthful from being full. A waste of good coin to put it aside now, and if I waited long enough, there was always a chance whoever was actually on duty would arrive to take care of the crowd.

    I wished they'd hurry.

    "Something has your interest there," said a deep voice. A stool scraped over the floor and then the big hulk of Pete Woodrow joined me in the doorway, or behind me, there not being enough room for both of us. "That's quite a gathering up the road. Shouldn't you be bothering them, lad?"

    The mug I held was smooth under my fingers, the ale within would be just as smooth as it slide (slid) down my throat, its warmth spreading out through the rest of my body. After being roused from my bed at some unholy hour this morning, I deserved this. (Why was he roused early? He deserves this because of what happened this morning? What? Give a hint as to how terrible of strange…to give me an idea of where this book is going.)

    What does the town look like? The people. Really set me back in history. Why does he want that ale so much, what is he trying to forget?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! I appreciate you taking the time to comment. (I mean it, not just being polite.)

      Delete
  3. Comments from Elsie Elmore. I'm posting for her since blogger won't let her.
    ______________________________
    Query:

    (Tinker her with this beginning - In Van Dieman’s Land, police are poorly paid and the labor force consists mainly of convicts. Will Dwyer being both a police constable and a convicted thief is not surprising/common/expected? But he tires of being looked down on his past, no matter how hard he works. When he has to take charge of an outlaw found dead in the bush, Will is subjected to one dismissive comment too many. He resolves to find killer, even if it takes him into parts of town he's been warned off. (Is the police force corrupt? Should you mention that culture?), and once he apprehends them, he'll earn himself a pardon and be just as good as the free men who sneer at him. (Like all the info here.)



    Nobody wants to help Will investigate. Not his partner, not the rich man who found the body, and not his new friend Luke, whose scorn inspired the quest. But Will persists. (T)rudging through the streets and taprooms of Hobart Town,( his) investigation uncovers a secret that endangers Luke and negates the work he has so far down. (Like this) Faced with increasing self-doubt, Will has a choice: continue his fruitless quest at the risk of betraying his friend, or stick to patrolling the streets and accept that those that look down on him are right.(Tinker here to tighten these last two sentences)



    This query identifies the protag, shows the conflict and names the stakes. There’s so great phrasing too. Tinker a bit with the opening. Great start.





    First 250 Words:

    I am a constable at Hobart Town. On the morning of the fifth of November, I was in the taproom of the Duke of Wellington when I saw a crowd coming down the street, following, as best I could tell, a man with a horse. Not a man on a horse, but a man walking beside a horse.



    Above them, the sun shone bright in a blue sky, another day of no rain with not even a wisp of cloud. In here, in this tap-room, it was shaded and cool, even in the doorway, and the mug of ale in my hand was just a mouthful from being full. A waste of good coin to put it aside now, and if I waited long enough, there was always a chance whoever was actually on duty would arrive to take care of the crowd.



    I wished they'd hurry.



    "Something has your interest there," said a deep voice. A stool scraped over the floor and then the big hulk of Pete Woodrow joined me in the doorway, or behind me, there not being enough room for both of us. "That's quite a gathering up the road. Shouldn't you be bothering them, lad?"



    The mug I held was smooth under my fingers, the ale within would be just as smooth as it slide down my throat, its warmth spreading out through the rest of my body. After being roused from my bed at some unholy hour this morning, I deserved this.



    When I first read this, I stumbled over the first lines. But as I read more, Will became more fleshed out for me … the almost stoic tone seems to suit him. I dig the voice and how this is seen from his vantage point. Super curious to see what follows.

    All suggestions are IMHO and are meant to be thought provoking, maybe helpful, but not gospel. Take ‘em, leave ‘em. This is your rodeo, so it’s up to you. Best of luck

    ReplyDelete