Dr. Dume ~ The Doctor is In

Time to relax a little. The article is done and will, I hope, suffice. Time has been short, what with training this new assistant of mine.

I have discovered her name is Senga and that she can cook. Soon, I hope, she will be able to do it without screaming whenever she opens the larder. I don't know what's wrong with her. It's all fresh. Some of those maggots have only just hatched.

She can clean, although she doesn't yet seem to have grasped the notion that the lab needs cleaning too. Well, give her time.

Once she tried to leave the castle, without even being sacked. An encounter with a Feral or two soon sent her rushing back. I don't think I need to put the chains on again. She won't even go near the windows now.

She's settling in slowly. I hope she can manage a conversation in a week or so. There's no hurry.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 11:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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The next horror article for Alienskin is due.

It was finished, really it was, but the Slimy Swamp Thing ate my homework and now it'll be a little late.

I still have 24 hours...

Posted by Dr. Dume at 11:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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It is considered a cardinal sin to start a story with the main character waking up. Whether in bed, or in a cell, or tied upside down in the centre of a cannibal village, the message is always the same. Don't start with the character waking up.

I watched the third episode of 'Resident Evil' last night, subtitled 'Apocalypse'. The first in the series started with the main character, Alice, waking up in the shower. The second, with her waking up on a hospital bed and the third, with her once more waking up in the shower. That third one was confusing at the start but it became clear soon enough.

It worked. In each case, it worked. In the first and third, Alice had no idea where she was or who she was. In the second, she knew who she was and had a pretty good idea of where. Each film started with her waking up. One major rule broken, and it worked.

This was a film, not a book. In the film it works because we can see the scene at a glance. In a book, you need lots of words to describe it. Imagine writing that opening for a book. The main character has woken up, has no idea where or who she is and has to find everything from scratch. Every detail of the room is new to her. Every little detail would go through her head while this character--who you can't even name because she doesn't know it--feels her way around this strange place.

Imagine trying to get that opening scene past an editor. It would be dull to the point of pain. Filled with description, no action, just an amnesiac probing a strange place. Well, strange to her but not to the reader. Most readers have bathrooms these days. Some even have them indoors, despite the hygeine risk. They'll recognise it straight away but you'd need to keep to the character's POV so you're stuck with all that tedious detail.

In a film, it works. In a book, it wouldn't.

Remember, when you send the book out to an agent or editor, it's not the only one they'll see that day. They might read yours first. Maybe fifth. Maybe fiftieth. Well, to be accurate, it's more likely an assistant will read most of the manuscripts and tag them 'no' or 'maybe' before they reach the agent or editor. Only the 'maybe' ones will get through.

Agents and editors do this day in and day out. If they pick up a manuscript that starts with someone getting out of bed, brushing their teeth, having breakfast... how far do you think they'll get? Remember, there are a lot of other manuscripts in the pile and at least some of them open with a bang.

You need to get the attention of a jaded, tired and possibly bored assistant in that first paragraph. Preferably in the first line but certainly in the first half-page. Waking up isn't a good place to start if you want to do that because waking up involves far too much description, no matter where you place it.

Action first. Sleep later.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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Yesterday, I had a visitor. Apparently he came from the local council and was investigating a report that I might have committed a bin crime.

I raised my eyebrows at that. I had no idea there was such a crime. “What,” I asked him, “is a bin crime?”

He coughed, an action that caused the Adam’s apple in his scrawny throat to bounce as if it were connected to his jaw by elastic. “The council have noticed that no waste is ever collected from here and some of the locals suspect you of dumping your rubbish illegally. I am authorised to enter your premises and inspect your waste disposal facility.”

“Really?” My waste disposal facility, if you can call it that, is a chute into the deeper recesses of the swamp. I prefer to think of it as a form of oubliette, similar in function to the ones in the lower reaches of the dungeons.

“Yes,” he said. “Really. If you prevent me entering your premises, I can impose a fine and return with the police.”

A fine. One of those maniacal ideas where they take money from you but provide nothing in return. Well, I had no real objection to him entering anyway and had no intention of parting with money, so I let him in. Once I had shown him the way to the chute, I settled in front of the computer to find more about this law.

He returned just as I noticed something very interesting indeed.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Dume, that your waste disposal facility contravenes Health and Safety regulations and is an environmental hazard. You are polluting the swamp.”

“It’s Dr. Dume,” I said. “Health and safety? This castle contains neither of those things. Never has. And I am not polluting the swamp. I am feeding it. It likes bones.”

“Well, I’ll have to make a full report to my superiors.” He folded his little book and pursed his little lips. “I can assure you, this will result in a prosecution.”

“Just a moment.” I rose from my chair and palmed one of the sedative darts I keep in strategic places all over the castle. You never know when a Feral might get in. “As you said, the law does state that I have to allow you entry on demand. In fact, I found over four hundred laws that allow such a thing.”

“That’s right.” He puffed out his chest as far as it would go. Not very far. “You cannot deny entry to the officers of the Council.”

“Correct.” I moved between him and the door. “However, not one of those laws states that, once inside, I have to let you leave.”

It was impressive to note the speed of his brain. Comprehension only dawned on him after the dart landed in his neck. Not one of my brightest subjects but what the heck. There are four hundred laws that say I have to let these people in and I will be more than happy to comply in each and every case. There’ll be more.

I put him in the cell opposite the training cell. My new assistant has stopped screaming now so he’ll sleep well. Tomorrow, I’ll show him the laboratory.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 08:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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