I've been dissecting the narratives of both published and unpublished writers for a while now, and I though it would be instructive for both of us to turn the tables on me. So I'm going to post segments from We the Enemy, a novel of mine that's currently being shopped by my agent. As I write, it is somewhere in the offices of editors at Penguin and Random House, awaiting rejection (I'm a realist: I expect disappointment but prepare for success.)
So, please, read through the following and then send me your
comments, critiques, reactions, etc. I'll post them, and then move on
to more. If your interest holds up, we may go through the first 4
chapters
Most of us encounter books after reading a blurb of some kind that gives us a clue as to what the book is about. Here's one for We the Enemy:
What if the President of the United States is so fixated on winning re-election that he will stop at nothing to remain in the White House? What if he hires Jake Black, a former CIA operative who is now a deadly gun for hire, to stop his political adversary? What if he kills a citizen movement that may be America's hope?
We the Enemy is a story of vision and scope told in the style of a thriller, and it delivers on a premise that touches each of us
-- how can we prosper in this troubled world?
I'm interested in feedback on the narrative, of course, but especially on the storytelling part
Chapter 1
When the call came a week before their regular get-together, all the gravelly voice of the most powerful man on the planet had said was, "We got bidness." Meaning trouble…but what kind of trouble?
The scent of the roses all around Karl Dengler tickles his nose and triggers a sneeze.
The President says, "Bless you."
"Thank you, Mr. President." Karl sniffles and fights off another sneeze. The spring sun has the damned tulips and roses in the Rose Garden blooming like crazy, and the pollen makes him nuts. Why couldn't they talk in the Oval Office with all that nice air conditioning? But when the big guy says take a walk, you ask which way.
The President chuckles. "Remember when one of your sneezes scared that buck away." He gazes into the distance, and regret tinges his voice. "That old fellow had a twelve-point rack, at least."
It's Karl's turn to laugh. "Well, you did get an animal that trip, though." He'll never forget the expression on Leo's face when they heard a strangled "moo" just before his target crashed to the ground.
President Leo Grant looks around as if he fears someone is listening. Which they aren't, which is why, Karl decides, they're in the Garden. Secret Service men are at the four points of the compass, but out of easy hearing range. Still, they make him nervous, not as if he's done something wrong, but as if he's going to. He fishes in a coat pocket and pulls out a mini Tootsie Roll, unwraps it, and pops it into his mouth. A rush of chocolate pleasure eases him. He wads the wrapper and drops it.
The President's gaze follows the wrapper's fall to a lawn that could pass for a carpet, then lifts and nails Karl. Karl hurriedly scoops up the wrapper. He unwraps another Tootsie Roll, pops it into a cheek, and stuffs both wrappers into a pocket.
When's he gonna get to it?
The President pauses by a rosebush covered with yellow-red blooms and snips away exhausted blossoms with a pair of small plant shears. He likes to declare that his visits to the Rose Garden are practice for his retirement. He scowls. "The Allies are killin' me out West, Karl."
Ah-ha. "They're hurting us, too." True believers among Karl's National Rifle Association membership are holding fast, as rabid as ever, but the more it looks like Oregon's crazy way of getting rid of guns is working, the more the President loses the loyalty of rational gun owners and hunters. And that's costing votes.
The President ambles on, heading for a living bouquet of red roses. "The way the polls are going, I could lose at least one of the western states this time around. Maybe two."
Karl gives the President a startled glance. Since he'd squeaked by on two questionable electoral votes in his first run for the White House, this was seriously bad news.
At the red rosebush, the President stoops to prune away a dead stem. "And it looks like a sure thing the Allies will elect Independents to the Senate and the House. Those people won't vote our way. Ever."
With congress split just about down the middle, same as the nation, is Leo talking about losing one of the houses? Both of them?
The President levels his gaze at Karl. "I fear, Karl. I fear what will happen to this country in the hands of the opposition."
Not to mention the amount of money to be lost. Karl offers a smile he doesn't mean and says, "We'll get 'em, sir."
The President drills him with a "you idiot" look. He says, "Get 'em with what? We've got no decent dirt on the Allies, and I can tell you we've dug. We don't have enough money to invade somewhere and stir things up, Iraq's stuck to our neck like a vampire bat, the economy's in the toilet and the deficit's about to flush it."
"Won't the last tax cut…?"
"Oh, I'm sure it'll pull us out, no doubt about it. Trouble is, that happening before the elections has all the chance of a bug headed for a windshield."
Karl doesn't have any answers to offer. Ever since the rest of the world turned its back on America, things have been a struggle. Who knew we needed them that much?
The President levels his gaze at Karl. Like always, Karl feels small before the intelligence and drive his old friend projects. The President says, "We need to damage the Allies, Karl. And I want you to make sure we do."
How? "Uh, I'm already going after them in the courts." He doesn't want to say that his NRA lawyers think they'll lose.
Snipping away old blooms, the President says, "I've told Marion Smith-Taylor I want her to help a couple of friends who are being harassed by the Allies." He settles his gaze on Karl again. "She's got her own issues with them but, to my regret, I can't be sure she will do everything that's, ah, necessary. I want you along to make sure the problem gets solved."
A shiver ripples through Karl. The President wants him to ride herd on the Attorney General of the United States? He's got no leverage on the woman; she's too damned honest. Sounds impossible, but you don't say no to the commander-in-chief. "You said a couple of friends?"
More anon. If you feel there are things that need work, let me know. If you think it works well, let me know that, too. While there's much more to come, these first pages are key.
I look forward to hearing from you.
RR
Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.
Tip Jar: visitors have asked for a way to lay a dime or two on me and, I'll confess, it would be helpful. So if you want to chip in, click here. And many thanks.
© 2005 Ray Rhamey