In Today’s Journal
* My Quote of the Day
* More on Description
* Of Interest
* The Numbers
My Quote of the Day
“Let the characters direct the reader. They, not you, are living the story. Never correct the maestro in how to wield the wand.” Harvey
More on Description
I keep saying “Take Your Time” when describing setting. Give the reader a chance to come into the scene with the characters. Much also depends on what the setting is and the situation.
In this scene, Sam Granger and his contact, Major Dorothy Kincaid, are in a small private jet for a nine-hour flight. Some familiarity exists because they’ve worked together before. (If you’re curious, the plane is a Cessna Citation CJ3+.)
I wanted this scene to echo the interior of a plane at night with only two passengers aboard during a tense time. I also wanted the scene to convey the quiet, maybe uneasy, mood of such a flight:
Dot was visibly tense during the takeoff and she stayed that way until we leveled off at cruising altitude. After that, she withdrew her hand, put it and the other one in her lap, reclined a bit, and promptly fell asleep.
I spent some time looking out the window and some time looking at her, just as if I could figure out what was going on in that head.
*
An hour or so later, I awoke to find the interior of the cabin was a little chilly, so I got up and went into the galley. I already knew the kitchen implements were on the right, so I looked at the shelves and drawers on the left. I thought they might have some of those little thin blankets like the airlines use.
No luck.
I went to the bedroom, inched my way around the bed, and opened the closet.
Bingo.
I pulled out two of the thin tan fleece blankets and carried them back to the recliners. I gently spread one over Dot, then sat down as quietly as I could. I took off my boots, set them to one side, then reclined and pulled the other blanket up over me.
For a long moment I just looked at Dot again. Then I closed my eyes and slept too, for a time.
*
Dot shook my shoulder. “Sam? We’re almost there.”
I was immediately awake. Of course, in that first instant I didn’t know where I was or what was going on. My arms were covered with a blanket. I felt with my fingers for a weapon on my lap—no weapon—and opened my eyes and listened, but otherwise I didn’t move. I heard no threats.
Then Dot’s voice and what she’d said poked through the initial fog and I remembered: I’m in a recliner on a plane about to land in Bogotá, Colombia. I rolled my head to the right and cleared my throat. “What time is it?”
“About 2 a.m.”
There was no sound other than our quiet voices and the slip of the engines. The cabin was dimly illuminated only by small blue guide lights imbedded in the floor. The right corner of Dot’s mouth was turned up slightly. A soft blue glow also reflected off her right shoulder and arm.
She was wearing a t-shirt before. She must’ve changed into a halter top. I couldn’t tell the color. Probably green or black. The tan blanket I’d spread over her earlier still covered her lap.
She said, “You want coffee?” She twisted slightly, then reached across herself with her right hand, her index finger hooked through the handle of a stainless steel mug. The side of the mug reflected the blue lights.
I shifted in the seat a little, sat straighter, and reached with my left hand to take the mug.
“Thanks.” The aroma of the rich coffee was strong and soothing. “It smells good.”
“It isn’t bad.” She twisted slightly away again, raised her own mug from the cupholder in the armrest of her chair, and sipped, holding it with both hands.
I sipped too—the coffee was as good as it smelled—and glanced to my front right. Only a dim red glow indicated the galley. Everything else was dark. “So what’s the plan?”
She twisted slightly back toward me. “The airstrip is on the outskirts of Bogotá to the west.” Her right shoulder reflected blue as she shrugged. “About a twenty-minute drive to the hotel. Then if you’re rested enough, we’ll start going over the plan.”
“Sounds good. I’m fine.” For whatever reason, I said, “The hotel?”
“The Malpraíso. I think it means bad praise, but I don’t know the language.” She hesitated. “We have a suite.”
A suite? As in one for both of us or one for each of us? But I only said, “Sounds right to me. I don’t know the language either.” More to make conversation than for anything else, I said, “So you’ve been down here for awhile?”
“Only a few days. But things developed faster than we expected.”
We?
“So that’s when I thought of you and contacted TJ.”
I nodded. “Okay. So—” She’d said ‘we,’ so I wanted to ask who else would be in on the mission. But I shook my head, then sipped my coffee. “No, never mind.”
I couldn’t tell with the glow of the dim lights behind her and with her facing me, but her voice sounded like she frowned a little. “What?”
“No, nothing. I’m sure my questions will be answered when we go over the plan.”
“Okay.” She sat back in her chair and sipped her coffee.
A long moment later, the pilot came over the intercom. “Okay folks, we’re setting down.” A moment after that there was a light jolt, a second, lighter jolt, then positive Gs as he reversed engines.
As the plane eased to a stop, Dot said, “I brought your bag up from the back. It’s sitting to the right of my chair. Don’t stumble over it.” Then she was out of her chair. She’d crossed in front of me and was opening the hatch.
I picked up her mug from her armrest, caught the handle with mine in one hand, then picked up my bag with the other. As I approached, I dropped my bag and reached her mug toward her.
She’d just straightened from swinging the hatch to one side.
“Thanks.” She took her mug, and I picked up my bag again.
Outside the hatch, a portable ladder well was already in place but nobody was in sight. These guys are good.
In the glow of the same streetlamp that reflected off the ladder well, the front of a large corrugated steel building and a smaller shed stood to the right front.
The pilots didn’t come out of the cockpit.
I said, “Well…” and preceded Dot through the hatch and down the ladder well.
At the bottom she stepped off to my right and gestured with her mug. “See it?” She smiled. “Our ride is courtesy of TJ too.”
Some thirty yards away a black Isuzu D-MAX pickup emitted a quiet tone and the door locks unlatched. When we reached it, she opened the driver’s side door and slipped in behind the wheel. I got into the passenger side and set my bag on my feet.
Okay, you’re the reader. In that 1058 words you’ve flown from Huntsville Alabama to Bogotá, Colombia over a period of about 9 hours. Did you get a sense of being in the cabin of the plane? Was the mood quiet? Was there an underlying tension?
Talk with you again soon.
Of Interest
Am I Really Going To Write a Novel Every Two Weeks? It amazes me that this is such a big deal, especially for Dean.
The Numbers
The Journal………………….. 1270
Mentorship Words…………….. 1340
Total Nonfiction…………………. 2610
Writing of Blackwell Ops 50: Sam Granger | Rocky Ground
Day 1…… 1440 words. To date…… 1440
Day 2…… 2986 words. To date…… 4426
Day 3…… 3523 words. To date…… 7949
Day 4…… 3315 words. To date…… 11264
Fiction for October………………… 70252
Fiction for 2025…………………… 648790
Nonfiction for October.…………… 24240
Nonfiction for 2025……………….. 234350
2025 consumable words………… 875571
2025 Novels to Date…………………….. 16
2025 Novellas to Date…………………… 0
2025 Short Stories to Date……………… 36
Novels (since Oct 19, 2014)…………….. 120
Novellas (since Nov 1, 2015)…………… 10
Short stories (since Apr 15, 2014)……… 310
Short story collections……………………. 29