PARTY TIME

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

While we’re celebrating our birthday at Criminal Brief, those who have arrived at the party fashionably late, please take notice of the archives. Did Jim mention these party favors? We’ve plenty to go around, so help yourself. In fact, there are an entire year’s worth for you to choose from. Catch up on any of the articles we’ve posted so far, and of course, re-read those favorites as often as you’d like.

James Lincoln Warren wrote he and I had been corresponding for years, but what he didn’t mention in the birthday celebration post (possibly too much champagne made the thought slip his mind?), we had met via the Mystery Writers of America online group. As you may have noticed, Jim and I both have what we call a wicked — and others may call weird — sense of humor. Jim was putting together a slew of pages on his web site titled Professional Hack Writers RecogniTion Society, better known as PHARTS. The way he presented the idea to our online group made me curious, so I stopped by his web site. When I laughed out loud more than once, I knew I wanted to join and be a Pharter, too. Jim presented me the title of Exalted Czarista of the Damned. Or maybe I gave myself that title. I don’t remember, but I did write a clever “How to Write a Screenplay” book that is published unabridged on the site. I urge you to drop by and read it in its entirety. It will take absolute minutes of your time and worth every penny you didn’t have to pay for the privilege. You’ll see how he and I are when we are left alone to our own devices (and there are other incredible members, too that you’ll want to check out!) Click on the typewriter in the upper left hand column to find the books written by the members.

Some time after PHARTS went public, Jim contacted me about Criminal Brief. He said I’d need a title and I offered several which he turned down. He counter-offered with some I didn’t like. He told me he had given Melodie her name and insinuated she had been happy with his first choice. Jim and my relationship has pretty much been exactly like that since. It is always a tug and pull because neither of us lets go. Maybe it’s because at the core we do respect each other’s work, but we both know we’re right. I’m just pretty and smart.

By the time I suggested Femme Fatale, it either seemed the right choice or we were both tired by then, so when Criminal Brief hit cyberspace, Femme Fatale belonged to Criminal Brief’s ownThursday’s Child, a.k.a. Yours truly.

In his post Jim said I came to the table as an instructor, which is true, but professionally, I consider myself a writer first, a speaker second and an instructor third. I believe every teacher should keep their skills honed if they want to keep up with the class. To do this, I like writing exercises to keep my talons sharp.

Several web sites provide places for writers to play at their craft while honing their skills. Recently, I was told about coolstuff4writers.com which made the 2008 “101 Best Web Sites for Writers” list by Writer’s Digest Magazine. (Thanks, Travis!)

This web site has a monthly contest, a newsletter, articles, interviews and many other interesting things to check out while you’re there. The April contest sounded easy and awarded a cash prize, too.

Write a story using only 13 sentences. The first sentence must begin with an “A,” the next with a “B”, then a “C” until you finish the story with a sentence beginning with an “M.”

Like I said, it sounded easy at first, but it did make me scratch my head a few times. I count that as a good thing. I like to use my brain and think everyone should.

The following is the first — and only — draft of my story. I didn’t enter it into the contest because I didn’t have time to work on it and it definitely is rough. However, it was fun and helped jumpstart my writing for that day. Try constructing one yourself. It’s an interesting exercise and at least a first draft can be accomplished in one sitting.

Heat

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

August’s heatwave drenched everyone in sweat while leaving the ground scorched and thirsty. Being near the ocean only added to the problem as humidity crept on everyone like an itch no scratching could relieve.

Combination of asphalt, concrete and steel skyscrapers held the heat like ovens in Hell’s Kitchen, stinking up the air hanging like cardboard curtains. Doggedly, the temperature rose along with tempers. Every police officer knew the consequences. Fires were a constant worry. Gangs erupted into fistfights and worse. Hate crimes increased a hundred fold. Inmates rebelled in the only way they knew how in the packed-tight prisons.

Julio owned the streets that summer, but his reign was short-lived.

King “Tall-Boy” Richards had slinked into the inner city like butter on hot toast, oozing his charms with Julio’s girls and rousing his boys into seeing things the Tall-Boy way.

“Let’s see what kind of cajones you got, Julio,” Tall-Boy said, lifting his shirt to reveal a snub-nose tucked into low-rider jeans.

Maybe Julio’s movements were too slow or maybe too fast, spooking Tall-Boy to react, but now Julio’s corpse soon would be the coolest thing in the city.

Simple as ABC? Well, if nothing more, it’s an interesting party game. I hope you find favor with it, but if not, please try the appetizers. We want you to have a pleasant time and y’all come back anytime.