Damian Myron Writes

Imaginative Thrillers Horror and Fantasy

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Outlining the chase

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After spending most of the outlining process figuring out what kind of person would be involved in the scandals of Dig Down, and developing their backstory, that still left me with a monumental task:

The actual chase.

The initial concept for the book was a man running for his life, pursued by numerous criminals who all want him dead. Although I finally knew who he was, I hadn’t come up with dire scenarios and daring escapes.

I only had three ideas for escape sequences: one where a loan shark has him at gunpoint, one where he was being chased through the mall by two different enemies, and one where the surviving characters were in the middle of a standoff (think the end of Reservoir Dogs). But anyone whose read Dig Down knows: two of those events occur in the first 6 chapters of the story, which are (aside from Chapter 6) among the shortest in the entire book. The last is the finale, and while I was confident that this was how the book needed to end (just about) I didn’t have a roadmap of how to get there.

These were the last two questions I needed answers for before I could start writing. The answer I came up with had to do with the purpose of Rob going to Preston in the first place. After entering Preston’s townhouse at the end of Chapter 1, he emerges from it to start Chapter 2 lugging a briefcase. I knew what would be in it, but as part of the reason for alternating between two timelines, the reader wouldn’t. The intrigue of its contents hopefully helped keep the reading turning pages, but its purpose helped me determine what Rob would do next, along with the impossible situation he’d get snared in.

Going to Preston for the suitcase was already the reason he would find himself held at gunpoint by the loan shark. Getting out of that situation caught the attention of the sociopath, who became one of the two parties involved in pursuing him through the mall. The circumstances surrounding his escape would lead him to arriving at Dr. Kine’s office needing medical treatment. Stealing the sociopath’s car there would explain how Rocco knew where to find him at the end of the story.

When I applied necessity to each sequence, the plot of the chase became clear. Since I’d already established he was in danger if he was found by multiple parties, anything he had to do or anywhere he had to go to escape could be turned into a moment of tension as he had to escape, so long as the setting was a natural next step Rob would take.

Next time, I’ll review how every chase sequence had to fulfill two purposes.

That’s What You Said Last Time (III)

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“Robert, can you hang on,” the man said, trying to keep his voice level. “I’ll be right back. I promise,” he said, desperate that he could keep that promise.

The pounding intensified the closer he got to the door. “Hold on,” he said, believing the door would be turned to kindling before he opened it.

Pierce seemed to pass into the room before he opened the door all the way. “Oh good, you’ve got a pot made already” he said, eyeing the carafe. “Mind if I pour myself a cup?”

As he watched his partner help himself without waiting for a response, the man couldn’t remember the last time Pierce had started a conversation with a hello. Or any form of pleasantry.

Pierce interrupted his inaugural sip with, “PRESTON! Don’t leave the paperwork on the floor like that. Christ! Do you not get how important this presentation is tomorrow?”

“Pierce,” Preston said, tiredly, “This hotel doesn’t have a desk, let alone a big enough table for me to fit everything on. And I didn’t want to spread them across my bed because I’m so beat if I so much as touch any part of the mattress I’m worried I’ll just pass out.”

“Oh no, not when we’re this close,” Pierce vetoed him. He looked for a place to set down his own briefcase. It had become such a fixture in his hand Preston didn’t even notice it anymore. “Good idea taking the phone off the hook. No distractions tonight.”

Robert!

“Uh, I was actually on the phone with my son before you…showed up,” he said, making sure to phrase it diplomatically.

“Preston,” Pierce said, not even attempting to hide the agitation in his voice. “We’re pitching to the CEO and the rest of the board tomorrow. This is important. You’ve had all week to talk to your son.”

“No, actually, I haven’t. I’ve spent each night with you preparing for the pitches we’ve been making all week.”

Pierce gave a frustrated groan, then eyed the coffeemaker again. “Make it quick,” he grumbled as he poured himself another cup.

Preston sprung for the phone. “Robert, are you still there?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as panicked as he felt.

“Yeah,” a meek voice doing it’s best to sound tough replied.

Preston’s heart sank. He knew that voice well. It was the tone his son used when he was hurt but didn’t want to cry.

“I-I’m going to have to go soon. I just wanted to call to see how you were doing. And to hear about your big game,” he added quickly with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, hoping he could remind his son how great the conversation was going two minutes ago.

That joy felt so hollow now.

“Yeah, but…you’re not coming to my game tomorrow, are you?”

At that moment, he didn’t give a damn how important his meeting was tomorrow. All he wanted was to do whatever it took to make his neglected son happy.

Preston. What do you always tell Robert about lying.

“No, son,” he forced himself to admit. An ant could’ve towered over how small he felt. “All the meetings I’ve had this week worked, and got us this really important session with the people that run the company. But if all goes—”

He was cut off by his son’s anguished groan. Before he could start up again, Robert said the only thing that could make things worse.

“Mom wants to talk to you.”

Chapter 3 Analysis: Purpose

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Continuing with the analysis of Chapter 3, I’ve yet to touch on the true purpose of the chapter. In my outline, this was when the reader finds out everything Rob is accused of and why he’s running for his life.

I knew that the townhouse chapters were going to focus primarily on Rob and Preston’s relationship, and the tumultuous history they shared, but the driving force behind that history was all the activities Rob partook in to make a fast buck. All of the crimes are brought up during the chase chapters, scattered throughout Dig Down, but some activities, like drug smuggling, don’t get brought up until Chapter 18. At this point, I felt it would be too late to spring this on the reader, so I needed to incorporate this into the book sooner. Once again, Chapter 3 was up to the task.

This was a tricky thing to pull off. As a writer, you don’t want to dole out information by dumping exposition on the reader. An exposition dump is when a writer gives the reader all the relevant information in a clump of paragraphs. When done poorly, it will be written as Preston telling a Rob information theyhe would already naturally know, like “I’m angry at you because the news says police are after you because you are involved in stock manipulation, insider trading, drug smuggling and prostitution.”

At this point, all the reader knows is that Rob is on the run for some reason. If I’ve done my job right, there should be a sense of intrigue and mystery about why Rob’s running. Outlining and writing the scene, I needed to keep those feelings going until I revealed what the charges were.

To do this, I didn’t have Preston inform Rob he was mad, but convey his anger with his icy silence. This reinforces the hostility Rob encountered at the end of Chapter 1. The TV that Rob mutes has his face on it. This suggests that what Rob is running from has made headlines.  Preston continues to give Rob the silent treatment as Rob examines the townhouse. This was done so that, in addition to blocking the entire townhouse sequence, establishing the curtains, portrait, paperweight, and characterization of both characters, ideally, the readers would keep turning the pages to find out what the crimes were.

Only when Rob makes for the portrait does Preston break his silence, first turning the volume up on the TV, then shouting his frustration at having to hear all about Rob’s activities, and only then, a quick rundown of what he’s accused of. While I’m delivering exposition here, my goal was for this to be delivered as a payoff to the reader, answering the question they would have from the start of the chapter.

I immediately tried to make sure the reader didn’t dwell this exposition by offering a new source of intrigue for them. I did this by teasing two new bits of information. One, I had Rob insist he was innocent. Two, I had Rob correctly guess which congressmen were condemning him, and then calling them hypocrites . At this point, the reader will realize that although I may have told them what Rob is accused of, they don’t know who was actually involved and how they were done. The chapter then ends.

If Chapter 3 has done its job,  the reader wants to find out how all these parties are involved, and they’ll continue reading.

That’s What You Said Last Time (II)

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His son’s excitement warmed his heart. His dread that his son would be angry at him for not calling all week melted away.

“I wanted to call before it was your bedtime, Robert,” the man said, eyeing the clock on his nightstand. It was not quite nine, but his wife always let Robert stay up a little later on Fridays when he was on one of his business trips. “I know you had a big game last Saturday and I still haven’t heard all about it.”

He could practically see his son’s beaming smile on the other end of the line. “I had three hits, including a triple!”

“A triple? Wow! That’s harder to get than a home run.”

All the tension and demands from the week melted away talking to his boy.

“Yeah, that’s what mom said.”

“Robbie,” a voice called in the distance on the other end of the line. “Who is it?”

“It’s dad,” Robert called back to her. The man wanted to talk to her too, but right now he sensed she’d been circling the phone, the deadliest predator to walk the earth, and him the prey.

“So what—”

“And guess what else dad,” Robert said, turning his attention back to the phone call.

“What else?”

“That triple?” Robert asked, then waited until he went “Uh-huh” before adding, “It was with the bases loaded!”

“Wow son!” he said with such pride until it dawned on him that he had missed it.

“And dad! Guess what else.”

“What else, Robert?”the man asked, doing his best to keep his son from noticing his state of glumness.

“Guess what I finally did in the field. I’ll give you three guesses.”

The man didn’t need three guesses, not with how Robert had talked non-stop with rabid infatuation about the one play he wanted to make.

“You caught a pop fly,” he stated, posing it coyly as a question.

“I caught a pop fly!”

“I told you you could do it,” the man said. “Did you do it like we practiced, with two hands to secure the ball in the glove?”

“Welllllll, not exactly,” the voice on the other end grew uneasy. “I used just the one hand, and I held the glove near my face and made a kissy face and winked when I caught it. But it’s because I knew I was gonna catch it. And the whole team was laughing the rest of the game and at practice.”

The man sighed disapprovingly. “Robert, you shouldn’t showboat. It’s good that you knew you were going to catch that one, but what if you were cavalier about the next one and missed it. Your team is counting on you.”

“Sorry,” the boy sulked.

The man grimaced. What’re you thinking? It’s little league for christ sake. How many times do you tell him it’s just a game and to have some fun?

“That does sound like an impressive catch. What a ballplayer,” he said, desperately trying to change the tone of the conversation. “I’m going to need to get your autograph before you make it to Cooperstown.”

“Daddy!” Robert groaned.

“I’m serious. It’ll be worth so much, I’ll be able to kick my heels up and retire.”

“Yeah right, you love work so much you’ll never stop,” Robert said, his voice growing more serious the deeper he got into the sentence and realized the truth of what he was saying. “When are you coming home?”

The man winced at the question. He hadn’t meant to open up this can of worms. Especially with how well the call had been going.

“Robert, I’m—”

He was interrupted by the pounding on his door.

Shit. Why’d it have to be now of all times? I’m not ready.

Efficiency in Dig Down

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In order for the scene’s in Preston’s townhouse  to feel fast-paced like the rest of Dig Down, they needed to be efficient. There was no room for the literary equivalent of Mumblecore, where there were a lot of useless actions or dialogue. Everything had to be crisp and serve a purpose.

Chapter 3 has Rob and Preston really speaking for the first time. All the reader knows is that they have a strained relationship, based off the tepid reception Rob gets when he first arrives and is looking for help. The challenge here was not only making the conversation that followed feel natural, but feeling like there was a reason for it being there.

While Rob is muting the TV so he doesn’t have to face what he’s done, and drawing the blinds so no one can see him, he tries to fill the void of silence by commenting on Preston’s possessions. Originally, talking about his furniture was meant to just be a placeholder, but the more I thought about it, the more what Rob was saying fit.

Rob’s monologue about Preston’s home served to not only be a way for Rob to stumble through starting a conversation with his father, but shed light on the characterization about both of them. Rob’s observations about how everything here is twenty years old and is just as good as they day they were bought is meant to lay the foundation for the time of character Preston is. Preston throughout the story constantly defends how tough he was on Rob because he was always trying to instill a strong foundation in him so that his hard work now would take care of him later. The furniture and other items in his townhouse reflect the choices made by that type of man. Preston took the time filling his home with quality items and took care of them, and as a result, he’s had no need to replace them, and they still serve him decades later.  

Rob reveals the nature of his own character during the same monologue. Comparing his own household to Preston’s, he says they’re replacing everything every five years, and goes on to further state that everything’s flashy, but nothing’s reliable. He even shares an anecdote that he went to numerous stores just to find something suitable the last time he shopped for furniture.

Throughout Dig Down, it is revealed that Rob had a lazy work ethic when he first started working for his father, trying to win over clients with flash and pizzazz instead of knowing the business inside and out. This led him to struggle and was the first step in his path to getting entangled with the many unsavory characters of Dig Down. Like the furniture he bought, things broke down, while Preston, like his furniture, was still reliable. That Rob was still buying these flashy items also hinted that he hadn’t learned from his past mistakes.

It was a quick interlude meant to transition Rob’s arrival at Preston’s to the beginning of the fight between them, but it served to lay the foundation for the types of characters they both were.

Preston would’ve been proud.

That’s What You Said Last Time

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The first thing the man did when he staggered into his cheap hotel room was put on a pot of coffee. The packaging of the grinds all but assured him his taste buds would not be in for a treat. That was fine. It could lack in taste, as long as it made it up in caffeine. The week had been grueling, and yet his job was just beginning.

His eyes skimmed across the bed he had slept in all week. Though it felt like sleeping on a slab of marble, it was the most inviting thing he’d seen all day, and he found he had to fight to pry his eyes away from temptation.

He checked the clock on the nightstand. It read 6:32.

Almost there, he promised himself. Twenty four hours from now, it’ll be out of your hands. Then you can sleep as much as you want.

The hotel was so lacking in amenities it didn’t even offer a desk. Instead, there was a small, knee high table that had just enough room for his briefcase.

It’s okay. There’s plenty of room on the floor to lay out all the relevant papers. 

The buzz of the coffeemaker jolted him awake as well as any cup of joe could. He chuckled to himself that he no longer needed to pour himself a cup, and even felt relieved that he didn’t have to press his luck that the coffee was any good to get the high he needed.

The man quickly lamented the fact that like it or not, he was most likely going to need to finish the pot. He was almost through his week of hell, but there was still one more night getting by on two hours sleep standing between him and the finish line.

To his relief, he’d had worse.

For the next hour, he carpeted the floor with all the reports he’d been hauling everywhere in his briefcase. To the untrained eye, it was a chaotic collage, but to him, each paper had their crucial place in his masterpiece.

Projections and pie charts jumped out at him from every page so vividly he could envision them when he closed his eyes. He began to close his eyes, point blindly at the floor, and recite what information he expected to find on that page. After ten attempts, he had a perfect score.

When the rush from the first cup wore off, he made to pour himself another, and only then did he notice that two hours had passed. He berated himself as he put down his mug and made his way to the phone.

You can’t forget again!

The man picked up the phone and dialed from memory, which was an impressive feat given all the numbers dancing around in his head. As he waited for the phone to ring, he pointed at another random page and quickly gave the percentages for each slice in the pie chart. He didn’t need to check to know he was eleven for eleven.

At the first ring, it hit him that he hadn’t called in a week. There was bound to be a cool reception for him when she picked up.

The man shook it off. He had sat her down and laid it out for her. It was no mystery to her that he was putting himself through hell this week. She might be mad, but deep down, she’d understand.

But will he?

He didn’t have time to answer as the phone was picked up on mid-ring, and he heard the chipper voice announce on the other end, “Moore Residence!”

The man smiled. Just like I taught him. He braced himself, hoping the voice would still be as bright and bushy tailed when he heard who it was. 

“Hello, Rob—”

“Daddy!”