I'm writing a book...

[Guest hunger4unger]

Here is an excerpt of a book I am writing. It's not TOO long..please offer me any feedback.

 

“No wonder you’re stuck playing Inspector Clueso instead of doing proper bloody policing” bellowed Superintendent Royale. His dominating figure rose from his untidy oak desk as he walked towards his window. Superintendent Royale or Jim as he is affectionately (?) known due to his likeness in both appearance and manner to a character from a popular TV series, as well as his surname, gave off the aura that he had seen and done it all and probably had. Trout often thought that Dalzael would be a more apt nickname but kept this even from close work colleagues. He had learned a long time ago that jesting about your superiors, even light heartedly, was not a wise career move. Trout didn’t need reminding that he had screwed up before he had even begun with this one. It was now unlikely that he would gain entry to Williams’ flat under false pretences – another attempt like the last one would certainly arouse suspicions from the occupant. “Looks like a burglary is going to take place this evening” Royale said nonchalantly. It took Trout a few seconds to register what the Super was suggesting or rather ordering with that comment. Breaking the law to maintain the law was, Trout considered, in this instance, like telling a white lie to someone. Royale on the other hand saw himself as being the law so as such could bend, twist, manipulate and break it any way in which he desired, which was quite often. “Don’t tell me your little field trip today was for nothing,” asked Royale who already knew the answer. “I didn’t really have the opportunity to gain any further information, no Sir” replied Trout firmly. Although he was addressing an officer of a rank higher than his own and one he would most likely never reach, Trout was seasoned enough to know that it sometimes pays to be assertive. Act like you’ve failed and you are a failure was one of his fathers many isms that had stuck with him into adulthood. Channelling the spirit of his deceased father for courage, Trout ventured “If I may Sir, can I ask if this case is really a priority at the moment? I mean he hasn’t broken the law and doesn’t seem likely to do so and I do have two outstanding reports to complete.” Royale returned to his desk, sat in the black leather chair, let out a sigh and began, his brown eyes locking with Trout’s’ blue “Do you think I’d have you on this case, or there would be a case at all for that matter if there wasn’t anything else going on besides the fact that this loon likes to read other loons fantasies about the government on his computer in-between sleeping, eating and wanking?” Trout was used to not being in the full picture when it came to working with Royale but as always when it was revealed that Royale knew more than he had previously let on, he felt under valued. Motivating staff to Royale was allowing them to have a tea break. “Sure, it might be worthwhile finding out how far into this anarchy thing he’s got and whether he intends to kidnap the Prime Minister, in which case he should get our full support” dead panned Royale, which made Trout seriously wonder whether he was actually joking or not “but as always fish face, there’s more going on. William has an agent for that music he writes though God knows why as it’s all shite, that I’ve been trying to bring in for years. A little birdie, and I mean that quite literally, tells me Harry Harris has been dipping his fingers in all sorts, and I mean that quite literally too, with this William as his apprentice in training as it were” finished the Super. “I wasn’t aware of that Sir,” stated trout fairly obviously, “but why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?” “I’ll tell you what you need to know and when you need to know son, I can’t have you telling your mates down the Dog and Duck about your new big case and it gets back to flash Harry that we’re onto him can I?” Trout felt insulted despite realizing that that could not possibly be the real reason why he was initially kept in the dark. Besides, he didn’t discuss any aspect of his work with his few friends apart from the merits of the tidy blonde in Uniform, WPC Cartmel, and that was hardly a topic of national security. And where the fuck was the Dog and Duck?

 

The tidy blonde in uniform, Jessica Cartmel, was applying the finishing touches to her hair in her hallway mirror. It was a natural dark blonde that complimented her round and tanned face. The tan was from a sun bed and the round face passed down from her mother, though Chinese take aways didn’t help matters. Although she was not jaw droppingly beautiful, she was pretty enough to be correctly described as a tidy blonde, with an ample chest and long smooth legs swinging the vote in her favour. Since leaving college two years ago, in her hometown of Darlington where she gained a well earned but not entirely valuable qualification in sociology, Jessica had tried her luck in the Army but had failed her fitness tests during training, which she did on purpose. Shortly after arriving at her training regiment she realized that it wasn’t a career she wanted or was it quite the career promised in the recruiting office. Instead of working in a command room with a huge screen of the world in front of her and liasing with the Americans on how best to deal with the imminent Russian attack, she had found herself waking up in a freezing field in the middle of Catterick whilst her instructor was wanking over her while she slept. She probably could have passed with flying colours there and then by bending over and thinking of England but instead punched him in the goolies before rolling over and pretending to go back to sleep. In the morning her instructor had been medically evacuated from the training area (attacked by a fox in the night was the apparent reason) and replaced with someone else but by then she had made up her mind to leave, except she couldn’t. She had signed up for two years service and the only way to get out was to suffer a serious injury making her unable to continue a career in the Army or to be so unfit and undisciplined that the army wouldn’t want her to complete her training let alone pass out. Over the next two weeks Private Cartmel finished an hour behind everyone else on endurance runs, rarely ironed her kit claiming she just couldn’t do it properly, had to pull out of the assault course due to “women’s trouble” and fell asleep whilst on guard duty. She played up to the dizzy blonde stereotype to its fullest and in the end the Commanding Officer cut her loose having grown frustrated with her actions. Back at home in Darlington Jessica worked for a while in a small office whilst managing to hold down a bed sit before the local paper revealed her step-father, once a professional footballer with the towns football club, was into child porn and had been arrested in a dawn raid. Whilst Jessica was never a victim of any abuse (she was too old at 15 by the time he came on the scene and he got his kicks from looking at pictures not actually committing the acts) her work colleagues, neighbours and friends all decided she had to have been abused and that she was somehow to blame for the suffering of her step fathers ‘victims’ because she didn’t report him to the police once she reached adulthood. At twenty years of age it was time to get away from the town that she grew up in for good and as the Army was not an option she decided on the Metropolitan Police. Having passed the fitness and intelligence tests fairly easily, the training centre was a little harder but nothing more than a challenge to be overcome. The thought of returning to the shame, whispers and blatant abuse that waited for her in Darlington was enough to motivate her when she felt she couldn’t go on. By the time WPC Cartmel graduated from the training centre she was a changed woman. More alert, fitter, stronger and confident than she ever dreamed possible, the world was at her feet. Now it was time to catch some criminals, investigate, arrest, and go undercover. She spent her first day with South London Police making Superintendent Royale cups of tea, the second day shredding out of date files and the third reading the necessary station rules and regulations. This, her fourth day on the job, was going to be when she got to do some real policing she was promised and not be a tea girl for CID. Looking at her watch, it was 12.50pm. She had ten minutes to report for her shift at the station.

[Ace309 0]

Clean up your punctuation, run-ons and paragraph breaks.

 

Read some of the stuff out loud to see if it sounds forced or natural.

[Guest hunger4unger]

Thanks. I'm aware that the grammar needs some work. I'm more after thoughts on the story.

[Edwin MacPhisto 0]

The asshole writer will now step in and tell you what you're doing wrong, harshly and cruelly.

 

Too much exposition, largely incoherent. Before you set out to write a large elaborate espionage/romance plot, just write a couple short stories, a few pages really, with simple structures and characters just interacting. You're not actually writing anything at this point; you're just dumping characters and directly stated motivations out onto the table. Don't explain every little detail (Jessica's father, who cares?) because it shifts too much of the focus onto unnecessary elements.

 

So, yeah. Write a few short stories and scenes. Work on displaying characterization in a fashion beyond "He is this way and here is why" before you try a novel-length piece.

 

As for the story itself: there isn't much "story" (by which I think you mean strictly plot) in this excerpt. Royale is Trout's boss, Trout is being kept in the dark, they're into investigative type work. Jessica is a woman who's obviously going to have something to do with what's going on. Worry about characters and actual writing before you worry about a big convoluted plot. Plot is the sledgehammer. Sometimes you need it, but you're better off working with a chisel.

[Guest hunger4unger]

Many, many thanks Edwin. I am going to take your advice.