A few weeks ago I was asked to do manuscript evaluations at the Book Passage Mystery Writers Conference. After reading the first 20 pages of a few of these, I started noticing that the writers were having a difficult time getting the story going. Sometimes the author started out with a long description of the weather. Sometimes he began with a prologue that delayed the beginning of the real story in order to frontload some backstory information into the text. Sometimes he just seemed to be in love with his own vocabulary. I realized that by the time I was 20 pages into these submissions, I didn’t know much about what these stories were really about.
I was arrested in Eno’s diner. At twelve o’clock. I was eating eggs and drinking coffee. A late breakfast, not lunch. I was wet and tired after a long walk in heavy rain. All the way from the highway to the edge of town.
The diner was small, but bright and clean. Brand-new, built to resemble a converted railroad car. Narrow, with a long lunch counter on one side and a kitchen bumped out back. Booths lining the opposite wall. A doorway where the center booth would be.
I was in a booth, at a window, reading somebody’s abandoned newspaper about the campaign for a President I didn’t vote for last time and wasn’t going to vote for this time. Outside, the rain had stopped but the glass was still pebbled with bright drops. I saw the police cruisers pull into the gravel lot. They were moving fast and crunched to a stop. Light bars flashing and popping. Red and blue light in the raindrops on my window. Doors burst open, policemen jumped out. Two from each car, weapons ready. Two revolvers, two shotguns. This was heavy stuff. One revolver and one shotgun ran to the back. One of each rushed the door.
Now let’s take it one line at a time.
I was arrested in Eno’s diner. At twelve o’clock. I was eating eggs and drinking coffee.
By the third word we know a very important piece of information, that this is going to be a crime story. The narrator and main character, Jack Reacher, is in a diner, not at his supper club. This tells us that he is a guy who lacks pretension. He’s having eggs and coffee, not brioche and cappuccinos.
A late breakfast, not lunch. I was wet and tired after a long walk in heavy rain. All the way from the highway to the edge of town.
He sets the scene. It’s daytime. It’s raining. Lee Child isn’t spending much time giving the weather report. Just what you need to know. And he gets a lot of other information in as well. The fact that he is walking in the rain instead of driving tells you more about Reacher, that he is modest, that his tastes are simple. He didn’t drive up in a Ferrari or a Buick. He walked. And he’s walking from the highway to the edge of town. He’s coming into the town, not going to the diner from his home. He’s an outsider.
The diner was small, but bright and clean. Brand-new, built to resemble a converted railroad car. Narrow, with a long lunch counter on one side and a kitchen bumped out back. Booths lining the opposite wall. A doorway where the center booth would be.
Nice short description of the scene. Most people already know what a diner looks like. So he doesn’t need to embellish much. He focuses on the big design. Bright and clean, resembles a railroad car, etc. Doesn’t bother to go into the details, what’s on the wall, color of the table tops. The reader doesn’t need to know all these details, and Reacher, the narrator, wouldn’t be noticing them either. That isn’t what Reacher is all about. The fact that it is a diner also sends a kind of ineffable message. There’s a noir quality to the scene.
I was in a booth, at a window, reading somebody’s abandoned newspaper about the campaign for a President I didn’t vote for last time and wasn’t going to vote for this time
