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inlovewithnight, because that's how I roll...
Post the beginning of your current WIP(s).
I have one that's eating my brain right now, as you all should know. And thus, the beginning:
Ben Lockwood's entire body was one mass of raw red pain. These people had snatched him off the street over a day ago, he thought. At first they wanted information about the boss-lady's new job and new employer, and they weren't shy about using brass knuckles and a knife and a cattle prod to pry it out of him.
Once he convinced them that he didn't know much, they changed tacks, although not tactics. Pain was still their weapon of choice, only they shackled him to a stained oaken post the diameter of a telephone pole and proceeded to beat him with a cat o'nine tails, over scars he already had from Afghanistan. The last scream had been wrung from him quite some time ago and all he could do was gasp his name, rank, and serial number, his training taking over. He was having trouble remembering where he was, here or there--the experiences were bleeding together in his head and on his back and he didn't know what anyone wanted from him anymore. Maybe they didn't know either. Maybe it didn't matter.
Gee. With an opening scene like that, maybe this is why the story is All About Him...
inlovewithnight, because that's how I roll...Post the beginning of your current WIP(s).
I have one that's eating my brain right now, as you all should know. And thus, the beginning:
Ben Lockwood's entire body was one mass of raw red pain. These people had snatched him off the street over a day ago, he thought. At first they wanted information about the boss-lady's new job and new employer, and they weren't shy about using brass knuckles and a knife and a cattle prod to pry it out of him.
Once he convinced them that he didn't know much, they changed tacks, although not tactics. Pain was still their weapon of choice, only they shackled him to a stained oaken post the diameter of a telephone pole and proceeded to beat him with a cat o'nine tails, over scars he already had from Afghanistan. The last scream had been wrung from him quite some time ago and all he could do was gasp his name, rank, and serial number, his training taking over. He was having trouble remembering where he was, here or there--the experiences were bleeding together in his head and on his back and he didn't know what anyone wanted from him anymore. Maybe they didn't know either. Maybe it didn't matter.
Gee. With an opening scene like that, maybe this is why the story is All About Him...
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Date: 2008-11-13 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-14 01:01 am (UTC)If you want to read more snippets, you can click the "snippets" tag, and that'll take you to everything I've posted, snippet-wise. :)
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Date: 2008-11-14 07:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-14 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-13 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-14 01:05 am (UTC)Of course, he didn't, you know...DIE. "What's our body count on this case?" "Counting you?"
Why, yes, I love the gallows humor. Why do you ask?