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    « Micro-Tension, an excerpt from the new Donald Maass book | Main | Storyteller’s Review: Tess Gerritsen’s “The Keepsake” »

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    Comments

    Lexi Revellian

    I got stuck on the monstrous watch. Just how big and bad can a watch be? How did the scruffy bandanna/watch combo scream danger?

    This speculation took me right out of the scene.

    Darla

    Sorry, there were far too many details being thrown at me from the third sentence on. I was so busy trying to get past the curl of lip and scruffy bandana (and all that followed) that I couldn't sink into the story at hand.

    Liz

    I would have liked to know right away what the monumental find could be. Tell me what it is and why he's going to have all kinds of trouble getting to the 'find.' I got hung up with the monstrous watch, too.

    Kami

    I started to worry with the indefinable aromas. That may just be a writer reading another writer issue and not a big deal with readers. Every time I see something that the writer points to as being indescribable in some way implies that either the writer doesn't know, is withholding information, or didn't care enough to try. On the other hand, it's a minor detail.

    It also seemed like the opening focused too much on making the character larger than life rather than presenting the situation at hand. That made Michael seem more like a caricature than a person.

    I hope this helps!

    Christine H

    I agree with all the previous comments, but... the exotic setting and the tension of the guy having to deliver...something?... to his editors still made me curious to know what happens next. Sounds like a rip-roaring yarn, curling lip and indefinable odors notwithstanding.

    Dai Alanye

    Start with background or description or action, but not all three at once.

    The Maldives are intriguing, though—always a sucker for an exotic locale.

    kieron dowling

    Good points. Sorry nobody was tempted to turn the page, though. Revise and hopefully compelling enough for such discerning readers. (I realise this not a chat forum, but figured I'd post a new opening).

    Many thanks indeed...

    Male, The Maldive Islands

    Scuba International’s roving journalist Michael O'Sheen shoved his way past beggars and traders at Male’s flea-market. His boss's warning still rang in his ears: Get a decent story, or you're out.
    Ready to pounce on anything that’d make said story, he scanned the stalls. Was about to say Feck It when he noticed a table set back from the others. He sidled up. Rummaged through a wooden bowl and spotted a set of padlocks tangled in wire. He caressed them, peered closely. His heart skipped a beat. The trader grinned, his gold fillings glinting from near on every tooth.
    'You want, American?'
    'Maybe,' he muttered. 'And I’m Irish.'
    ‘Like Sinead O’Connor,' the trader offered, clasping his hands sincerely. 'Special bargain for you today. Only one hundred dollars.'
    'A hundred? You’re dreaming. I’ll give you twenty,’ O’Sheen said, his blood pumping louder in his ears. Without eyeballing the trader, he held a crisp twenty dollar bill just out of reach. 'Where did you find these?'
    'Bathala. That way.' The trader pointed seaward with his chin. ‘Half day in Dhoni.'
    Michael knew a Dhoni to be a wooden fishing boat rigged with a single scythe-shaped sail. He figured Bathala to be one of the outer islands.
    ‘If you take me there − ' Michael offered, holding the note further away, '- I'll give you another twenty.'
    'Deal. My brother will take you.'
    'Tomorrow?' Michael handed over the note and watched it disappear into a grubby tunic. He stashed the padlocks in his rucksack.
    'Tomorrow. Where you stay?'
    'Club Med.'
    'Ok. Wait on the beach at sunrise.'
    ‘I'll be there.' O'Sheen started to walk away.
    'Irish.'
    O'Sheen paused and glanced back.
    'Beware the Jinni,' the Indian said, then turned as another customer took his attention.
    O'Sheen stared for a moment, hoisted his rucksack and beat a hast exit from the market.

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