Out for the Count

Hello family, friends, and fellow writers,

I just wanted to let you know that for this week and this week only, Mar-Queso will be out. But no worries, posting will resume Tuesday, January 3rd, 2017. I wish everyone happy holidays and a happy new year. Thank you again for your support.



Best Wishes,

Mar-Queso

No Sleep Until Found

Anchor

“Thank you Dan for the weather, and now for continuing coverage on the recent disappearance of Dr. Warner. Angela has more on the story.”

Onsite Coverage

Thank you Walter, if you are just tuning in, you can see I’m standing just outside of the home of Doctor James Warner a former FDA agent and pharmaceutical technician who just a year ago created a drug that if taken would eliminate fatigue and drowsiness for extended periods of time. Simply put, one pill would keep you completely awake for the period of one month. The Drug is called Alertex and was still undergoing several checks and balances with the FDA before it would announce it’s official release to the public. However, just yesterday the neighbor of the house next door reported a breaking and entering and witnessed several men entering through the front doors and walking out with what has been reported as the kidnapping of Dr. Warner. Authorities have not yet confirmed any leads to who might’ve been responsible. We take you back to the key witness of what happened.”

Eyewitness Account

“There were a couple of jet black sedans pulling up real quiet to the curb of his house. I saw through the windows that his front doors were smashed through with a battery ram. Next thing you know, I’m hearing shelves knocked over and some yelling. And then silence as they walked out of his house with a body bag. Only thing is, I knew he wasn’t dead, because the body bag was moving as if he were kicking himself free. They tossed him in the trunk of one of those sedans and drove away all stealthy. Meanwhile, I’m on the phone talking this through to the 911 dispatch lady:”

Emergency Call Clip

Man on phone: “THEY JUST TOOK HIM!

911 Dispatch: “Where are they taking him, sir?

Man on phone: “HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW, THREE BLACK SEDANS PULL UP AND TOOK HIM”

911 Dispatch: “Ok sir, I need you calm down and give me as much information as you can, nearby units are already en route to your location, stay with me, what did they look like?

  

Onsite Coverage

That was the clip from the recorded dispatch. We were also able to locate Dr. Warner’s partner in the development of the Alertex drug and show you this brief clip on finding out about any possible leads.”

 Close Colleague Interview Clip

“Dr. Warner and myself were developing the drug together over the timeframe of a couple of years, honestly I would never suspect anyone to have had any grudges with him. I mean even the FDA still regarded him as one of their own. It doesn’t make sense who would take him. I mean it was a little uneasy the projection of how much money this drug would make, that I can say would raise some attention, like we’re talking several million and were even projected to sell stock publicly. There are no competitors, but come to think of it, I did express my concerns with creating this.”

“What were your concerns going through with developing Alertex?”

“Well I used to joke with him about how its like we were creating the first flying car and how the tire companies would be conspiring our death, or like how the diesel engine was originally made to run on peanut oil, and look what happened to that guy, you know?”

Anchor

“Angela, we are just getting word on an update that authorities have just received an anonymous tip on Dr. Warner’s whereabouts. Local authorities are en route to possible location.”

Onsite Coverage

“Walter the police are vacating the scene at Dr. Warner’s residence. From what it looks like, they are keeping a few officers behind to monitor and continue with the investigation here while the remaining units are following up on the recent information. We should have more on story in the next few minutes.”

    

Chapter Three-ish Sample of Gallon City

The massive courtroom is silent – filled with lawyers and chief judges focusing in on one man – Janus.

“State again what your cause was to the defense of the East Quarry?” The lawyer asked Janus as he sat there replaying the events that took place at the fuel quarry already weeks ago, a source for harvesting millions of crystals to provide fuel and energy to the city.

“We were attacked, and we took our positions in defending the site. Some of them breached through our defense and we lost a few in the fight.” Janus answered. He knew what really happened though. He put the care and concern of the workers over the welfare of the site. In consequence of this, several brownouts took place due to the fuel supplies being taken by the creatures from the elements. 

Recently they’ve been coming from the deserts. Routine attacks from the desert have more than tripled in the last year, even before Janus was rescued and started working for the Fenton Corp. as an outlier worker making close to nothing.

“Someone has to be financially accountable here for the loss of production.” The prosecutor paces the floor slowly like awaiting his prey.

“OBJECTION! My client, Janus was protecting the others from being killed. Those workers are still alive thanks to this hero, and you are just going to point the finger and hold him liable for a couple of flickering lights in the city?”

“Overruled.” Called out one of the judges.

“What’s your angle, Janus? Why do you care about those you saved? So what if they get to be with their families? Do you even have a family - someone to belong to?”

Janus at this point looks troubled and struggles to answer, “I really don’t remember anything about my family or what happened to me. I thought I was traveling somewhere, I mean I think there were children of my own, but…”

The prosecutor walks up to Janus holding out a type of contract with rows of signatures enclosed in a plastic bag. He waves it in front of the judges for them to see.

“Gentlemen, we all know that these workers knew what they were getting into when they signed up to work for these quarries. They were well aware of the risks involved even if that meant losing their own lives to these beasts in the wild. The energy that our cities require are your top priority and nothing else. It is evident that what should have been executed was to defend production at all costs. Janus, remember that you are under oath, did you or did you not willfully violate your employee contract by saving a couple of lives over production?”

Janus remains silent.

“I will repeat myself,” Said the prosecutor.

“Did you or did you not…”

“I did,” Janus answered. “Yes, it’s true. I saved those men in direct violation of my contract. Because 

of that, Gallon City and the surrounding townships have suffered power failure for the past few weeks.”

The prosecutor stands back with a satisfied grin, “No further questions.”

Sad Songs

“Is this the place you said he’d be at?” Someone in the backseat asks frustratingly. “What did I tell you before? YES!” We sit there crammed in a Geo Metro (the rare four door kind) waiting to supposedly beat someone up who keeps showing up at the hotel parking lot trying to break into our cars. He's been at it for a couple of weeks too long. And now it’s come to this. All twenty of us waiting in our cars for this kid to show up. He’s already stolen a set of golf clubs from one of us.

“Why do you always listen to sad songs, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?” Someone else questions the driver’s taste in music while showing mild sympathy.

“Nothing! Why does everything need an explanation? I like the subtle sound and the mind opening feelings that come with it, is that a crime? NOTHING HAS TO BE WRONG – I JUST LIKE IT!”

The driver shouts while the melodic spacey music continues in the background.

“Alright be cool, man. It’s just getting me down when I need to be more alive. We are about to give this guy violence of action and I can’t get in the mood with this ‘lost-memories-Julia-where-did-you-go’ stuff. What does that song mean anyway?” The same guy from the backseat asks.

“Can't you see how the songwriter is in pain from the past? He's is pleading with time to take him back and relive those happy moments, but can't. This gets me so sober and clears my head of any distractions. You know you didn’t have to sit in this car. You could’ve went to John or Steve’s car BUT NOOO, you chose this one, so deal with it.”

“What’s this album called anyways?”

“Junk,”

“Figures, rightfully said.”

“No! The album’s name is Junk, but it’s not, it’s beautiful. I bench more than you weigh, if I were you I’d –”

“There he is!” I shout to everyone. An older teenage boy is seen wearing all black with white gloves. He peaks through each car window unaware of our silent angry mob waiting for him to show up.

All the car doors quietly open up. “…okay, we’re just going to scare him, right?..right?”

“FREEZE!!! Our driver pulls out a .357 cannon like from Dirty Harry - pointed at the kid. “WHAT THE HELL?? NO NO NO! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT GUN??” I shout to him.

“IT’S MY DAD’S. HE’S GETTING AWAY!” He shouts as the kid pulls out the middle finger and runs for his car parked on the other side of the street. I reach out to lower his hand – trying to divert his aim from the kid. A shot is fired, missing him. The kid’s car turns on with the tires screeching. Two more shots fire, one of them misses and the other hits one of his tires.

“YOU SHOT HIM!” Someone shouts. “NO I DIDN’T! I SHOT HIS TIRE, BUT HE’S STILL GETTING AWAY!” Sparks fly up from the recent flat as he continues speeding away. The car leaves the street in a tilted fashion. His window is rolled down while shouting out, “I’M SUING EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!”

We stand there in the parking lot looking at the shooter in shock. Some bail the scene while some of the hotel lights come on.

“…So…we need to get out of here, right now. We could drive to Waffle House while listening to more sad songs?”

“SHUT UP!”

“No I’m serious, I really am getting used to your sad songs.”

Progress Report - Queries

Queries, I often think of Michael Jordan's quote to help me cope with the overwhelming feelings of "you are not enough" when it comes to sending out query letters to pitch your book to the elite and unforgiving literary agents. His quote was this:

"I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career.

I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been

entrusted to take the game winning shot and missed. 

I've failed over and over and over again in my life, 

and that is why I succeed."

So cheer up! That's what I would tell myself anyways. After making copious edits to the query letter of my project, I finally trimmed it down to the bare message and delivered "the hook" not giving away too much while referencing the usual taglines such as the "what if's" and "imagine a world...". Every word at that point had a purpose and was not just there to fill up space. And wouldn't you know it? This was the reply that I received in response to my query:

Now keep in mind, nothing did come from it. I was still rejected - BUT the query did cause her to actively respond with requesting more information. To me that was a victory. Something in there did spark an interest to cause her to request more. This leads me to believe that I am on the right track (query-wise). I still have a long ways to go - like a really long ways. If you were to compare this to the Lord of the Rings journey, I am still in the kitchen packing supplies and trying to find someone to watch over my dogs. But that's ok, like Michael Jordan said, the "failed over and over and over..." is necessary to hone in on the success. Have you had experience with query letters? What are your thoughts? 

iDunno

Chapter One Sample of Gallon City

“Where did he come from?” Asks one of the miners as he reaches in the unconscious man’s pocket. 

“No wallet, nothing.” Two more show up at the scene. One pours a bucket of water on him.

“What?..Where?..” The man starts to sit up looking very beat with blood shot eyes and several cuts and bruises all over.

“You were lucky we found you when we did.” Said one of the rescuers. The evening desert wind kicks up causing the others to secure their belongings on their wagons while he remains sitting up.

“How long have I been out?” Asked the rescued man,

“Couldn’t tell you, those two there rescued you from being beaten to death by raiders.” The man attempts to stand up but falls over unable to support himself completely. The others join in to get him on one of the floating carts with one of them staying with him in the covered wagon.

“We weren’t able to find any information on you and you weren’t tracked on the DNA scan system. Where were you headin?” The man hesitates to answer but remains silent for a moment, looking confused

“I…don’t remember. I thought I was heading to the east end of one of the Crescent Cities.”

“No, you must’ve been beaten pretty badly. The Crescent Cities are on the other end of the continent. We are taking you to the outskirts of Gallon City. It’s somewhat safer there. Do you have any family? Anyone who we could contact for you?” He asked the confused man looking skeptical as if it was pointless to ask this.

“I don’t know. What did you say happened to me?”

“What about your name? Do you know your name?” The cart shakes as the jets fire up. “Nothing huh? Well, how about I call you Janus for now, until you can remember your real name.”

The party gathers up and tethers the remains of Janus’ belongings as they move west toward the once abandoned Gallon City.  

Fellow Park Goers Via Telus

“Hello?”

“Hey! What are you up to?”

“Oh I’m just sitting here…in the park. Nothing too fancy. Doing some bird watching. So how is it at your new house? Aren’t you in a rough area?”

“You’re people-watching again, aren’t you? Well guess what? So am I, at Stanley Park. What are the odds? The new place is fine. Yes, I might have to actually start locking my doors now, but what are you going to do? Are you at that Jerry park?”

“No, I’m at the Parc la Fontaine again”

“That sounds snobby.”

“Don’t criticize a park name with a little French in it.”

“Did you get my samples yet?”

“Which ones? The spoken-word one or the fast-paced punk sounding one?”

“Well yeah, those too but the…”

“Oh wow, there they are again!”

“What? What’s going on?”

“There’s this family that always comes out here to have a picnic, but they usually always get interrupted whenever their neighbor comes out with his dog who tries to eat their food. And right on queue, here comes the neighbor!”

“Are you serious? Same here! Just kidding.”

“I know you’re kidding, you always do that.”

“Do what? Holy hell, I just saw a zombie takeover at the aquarium!”

“No there isn’t.”

“Sara! If I die, let my songs live on forever!”

“Are you done? What!? The father just grabbed the dog’s hind legs and swung him around and now the owner is shouting at him, uh oh the authorities are now involved.”

“Man, those Montreal-goers can get pretty vicious. Or is it Montrealiens?”

“What are you talking about? No idea, oh I didn’t tell you, The Bank next my apartment had a robbery!”

“No they didn’t,”

“Seriously, I’m not doing this for attention. They held up the entire bank and had to evacuate everyone out onto the streets, they were saying how there was a scary bomb guy in there.”

“Scary bomb guy?”

“Well, those weren’t their exact words, but yeah.”

“Have you learned any French yet?”

“I can basically order the Panini and to say no tomatoes. What? Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing, I just – oh, no time now, the zombies are gathering at the picnic benches and now they’re singing while one of them is manning the grill.”

“Probably brains,”

“Or Ball Parks.”

“Oooh Guac Dogs, that sounds so good right now, with Velveeta.”

“Have you finally unpacked or did Emi break down and do it for you?”

“Hey now, don’t crowd my space with your shenanigans. And yes, I finally unpacked everything in my 500 square foot place, now I just need to figure out where all my books are going.”