Deciding on Characters - Justin

In a way Justin Dawson is an allegory for some of the things I wished for after I was grown.  I wanted to be a more mischievous child, to have a twin or a younger sibling.   Justin is a bit more daring than myself.  I don't know if I would step on a strange, haunted looking train, but he does share some interesting similarities.   He's smart, witty, and very kind at heart.    I hear people say that one should not make characters Mary Sue, a reflection of themselves.   But really, isn't that what any character is?

We all write bits of ourselves into our characters.  Whether it is good or bad, realistic or imagined, our characters reflect aspects of our own true being.   Justin was an aspiration of my youth, and in a way he reflects what I looked like back then, curly brown hair, freckles and sky blue eyes.   He's got a fondness for red converse sneakers which I still have, and he is struggling internally with the death of someone close to him. 

I think I mentioned this before but I often ask kids what they think about the characters once they read the book and the reaction to Justin is always that they know someone like this.   Justin is their brother, their friend, their cousin, whatever.  They relate very much to him. In a way that makes me very proud because he is me as the narrator of this strange journey.

Chapter 1 - Part 3

Suddenly, a long and haunting note pierced the night air.  A deep reverberating hum settled along the old iron bars like a tuning fork as a stone embedded in the rust at my feet came free and rolled to one side.  A prickle went down my spine into my feet.  Fear blocked reason.  This could only be one thing, a train. 

With a shriek of steam and grinding metal, a massive black steam engine erupted from the tunnel mouth spewing smoke like a black dragon arisen from the darkest depths of the earth.  Blue flame coursed over its riveted body like ghostly waves as white hot steam escaped in powerful jets from huge pistons and blue sparking wheels. 

A flash of light snapped me back into reality.  Instinct took over,  and I dove into the safety of the brush.  The train hurtled past, and then it vanished into the forest without sound or trace.

 Scrambled footsteps clattered across the gravel. Jessie crouched down beside me and helped me to my feet.  “Justin, are you’re all right?”  I nodded, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.  “You could have been killed!”

“I thought you said the line was cut!  Wait!  The camera went off as it came out!  Let’s see the picture!”

She flipped up the image, and we both froze.  There was no train, just a ghostly blue streak.  I felt my blood run cold.  “That can’t be right.  We didn’t just imagine that thing!” 

She shook her head.   “Let’s go home before anything else happens.”  

I looked back at the empty tunnel mouth. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

 “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night, Justin.”

The wind still whispered with the echoes of what happened that summer night as we scrambled back up the embankment.  Somehow I knew that this was only the beginning.

Some retrospect

I happen to like the way the last post shows the beginnings of the mystery of the Phantom Train.  We start to transition to the world of the surreal.  I worked very hard on the details of the kids, and I like the way I portrayed some of their actions.  That said, I sometimes wonder if the conversations are stilted.  

Back when I first wrote this, these two characters were the ones who changed the least.  They were always brother and sister, twins and acted pretty much the same to one another.  Being an only child, I tried my best to guess how they'd tease each other from things I saw with my friends who had siblings.   When I ask children about what they think about the characters they say they really like them.  


The fog and the tunnel itself were one of the earliest images for the train I had in mind.  I knew I had to have something spooky, a big cavern and and empty train line for the train to prowl.  Originally the kids were there with a schoolyard bully who had dared them to walk inside and then back but I later changed it and removed that character.    I added other things as technology progressed their camera became a digital one, though I wonder if it should change to a phone now that most kids have those.   It amazes me just how quickly things can age a book.

Overall I still enjoy how this chapter looks, and I cant wait to finish posting it.

Chapter 1 - Part 2

Jessie sighed.  Her eyes narrowed like little blue icicles on me.  “Fine, I’ll go fifty yards into the old tunnel but no more!  Don’t forget, you were the one who didn’t want to come last time.”

“Ah, shove it.” I tried to hide the red in my face.  “I’m ten  now, and I’m not afraid of the dark like when I was eight!” 

I glanced out into the darkness. Everything felt deathly still as we slid down the embankment scattering gravel beneath our feet.  The night seemed colder.  Even the moon had vanished behind a shroud of clouds.  It was pitch black except for the dim beam cast upon our path by my flashlight. 

“Let’s get going, Jessie.”

Slipping down the slope, I rolled into a crouch at the flat base of the ravine. The moon rose like a specter along the cold iron bars shimmering like the belly of a slain dragon.  The rails led along rough gravel choked with weeds and straight towards a gaping hole like a dark mouth in the side of the hill.  I stepped carefully over rusted rail ties balancing myself carefully on one side of the steel bars polished smooth with travel long ago.  Behind me the huge gnarled branches of the birch forest wove a dim opening where the rail vanished into the overgrowth.

I stepped over the track only to trip over a rusty cross bar.  My pants sunk into something thick.  Reaching down, I realized I’d fallen into tar.  I glared at my sister who stifled a giggle.

 “Come on, Justin.  We don’t have all night to sit around.  It’s not like you have to worry about trains since the line’s been abandoned for years now.”

The cavernous black orifice groaned with the passing wind through its empty fissures.  The night was very cold biting into my skin like tiny pins of chill.  I noticed Jessie bundle herself deeper into her parka.  A gust of wind escaped the gaping maw chilling me to the bone. 

Jessie stopped on the side of the tracks and shook her head.  “Justin, I don’t like this.  Let’s just go home.”

 I tried to hide the fear in my voice.  “Fine, just take the picture of me outside.  That will be good enough.  The guys won’t be able to top that.”

“OK, back up a little bit.”

I followed her instructions and walked back into the darkness outside the tunnel mouth a few yards from Jessie.  I felt nervous standing there as she reached into her pocket and held up the camera. 

“Back a little more … OK!  Perfect!  Now hold still.” The camera flashed.  “Great!  Let’s go!”

“Wait!”  I said.  “I need to take a look.”  I started toward her when I felt an icy chill through the flimsy canvas of my sneakers. 

 Looking down, I noticed a creeping fog floating out of the tunnel mouth, a swirling river of vapor that filled the entire gorge.  “Justin,” I heard the worry in my sister’s voice.  “Why is there fog coming out of the tunnel?”

The Opening for Phantom Express

I think the opening of the book is the thing that has changed the most over the years.  This is mostly the result of critique groups where I could only bring ten pages for others to read.  As such, I always chose the first ten pages because it needed little explanation like the rest of the book would have.  I cannot say how many reiterations of this particular page I went through in fifteen years of sharing it.  Part of me wonders if the rest of the book should have gone this deep under the microscope, but in a way I am glad it didn't.

There came a point maybe six years ago where I decided enough was enough and I basically scrapped everything I had up to the previous point and rewrote the whole book.  I kept the same two main characters, the same basic idea of the story but I was so tired of seeing just the first chapter that I needed to write a completely new book.  I suppose I could have shared much more, given background of other chapters for critique but I wanted the opening to be the best it could be so that it would catch a publisher's eye. 

Looking at it now, I'm very happy with the result, though its the process which I lament.  I hear about authors taking years to write books but I never imagined that this project would take this long. 

Aboard the Phantom Express - Chapter 1 - Part 1

 

A cold wind crept in with the late hour rustling restless as a child through the birch trees of the long ravine.  It leaped from branch to branch slipping around me like an opaque coat of auburn colors. I made my hiding place in the gravel beneath the dark roots of an old oak, my hands tucked into the furrows of my oversized red sweatshirt against the sudden chill.  The noise of my watch alarm clicked jolting me out of near sleep.  I glanced down at the illuminated numbers there.  Midnight!  Where was Jessie?

Reaching into the big pocket of my jacket, I found the cold steel shape of my flashlight and switched it on.   Everything around me was inky black except for the faint light I now had.  Below me I could just make out the shimmering outline of train tracks at the very bottom of the ravine. 

“You’d better not stand me up, Sis,” I thought.  “Would be just like her to leave me out here while she stays all nice and comfy back home.” I felt something clinging to my head.  Reaching up I brushed it off, a few leaves falling to the muddy earth.

Suddenly, bony fingers grasped against my shoulder from behind.  I felt my hair stand on end.  A prickle went up my spine.  I came up like a rocket whirling around with my flashlight ready as my only weapon of defense and stopped dead still.  It was only Jessie.

“Did I scare you, Justin?”

“You just startled me, Jessie,”  I said glaring her down. She looked like she was going to Antarctica dressed in a bulky parka and scarf over those same blue-grey overalls of hers.   “You look like a yeti in that get up.  Where are you going, Alaska?”

 “Oh, that’s funny coming from you, nature boy.  I warned you that the news said it would get cold tonight and here you are in just your jeans and that measly little sweatshirt.”

I rolled my eyes and lied like the good twin brother I was.  “It’s not that cold.   Besides,  you were supposed to be here at midnight, Jessie.”

“It’s not like I can just waltz out right under Dad’s nose.  You’re lucky he didn’t ask where you were when he got home and just fell asleep on the couch like always. We shouldn’t even be out here this late.  He’ll go ballistic if he finds out.”

“He won’t find out!  Did you bring the camera?” 

“That was my end of the deal.   Now if you don’t mind, I’m going back home.”

 “Hey, hold on!  Who’s going to take my picture so I have proof I did this?”

 “You’re the one who made the stupid bet with the kids in your class.  You take the picture, Justin.”

I held onto her arm. “I can’t take a picture of myself going into the tunnel.  It’s too hard to get the image right if I can’t see it.  Come on.  It will be quick … I promise.” 

{So begins my posting of some parts of Aboard the Phantom Express}

For the Birds

So, I decided to go off on a tangent today.   Last Sunday my father dug out the old bread making machine to try to make bread.  Unfortunately it came out like a brick with the top sort of mutilated and looking like it fallen out of a mixing machine and then just hardened into clumps.    The bread itself was awful and he was about to throw it out when I suggested I take it home.  I wanted to let it harden and feed it to the birds that frequent my garden.  I figured that birds will eat just about anything.  Boy was I wrong.

This darn bread lived up to every bad expectation.  I put the hardened chunks in the feeder and the birds wouldn't even peck at it.  When I sprinkled seed about in the pan they pecked around the bread to get at the seed.  Finally the local blue jay stopped by.  Now this little fellow is quite the character and he eats almost anything I put out there.  He took one peck of that bread and then tossed it aside to get at some other juicy morsel the other birds had left behind.

Ultimately, my dad's bread turned out to be fit for neither man nor bird.