The Planck Factor

Chapter 3

Jessica

My advisor Shelley removed her glasses and set them on the desk. "You're making progress with your thesis. I must say I'm impressed." She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length hair and craned her head back, rolling it as if to loosen her neck muscles.

I could feel an inadvertent smile form, as I pulled my manuscript pages from a folder. "If you like that, I think you're going to love this."

Shelley re-donned the glasses and glanced at the first page. Soundlessly laughing, she grinned. "Oh, my God. You're actually writing that novel?"

"How could I not accept such a challenge?"

She turned her attention to the story. After turning the page, she said, "Well, you're off to a rousing start, that's for sure."

"And you don't think the beginning is too corny?"

"Well." Shelley paused and set aside the manuscript. "It's not exactly War and Peace, is it?"

"Exactly! I'm not trying to write the Great American Novel. I'm just trying to tell a great story."

Shelley shrugged. "To me, it reads like the stuff that sells. Not that I'm a big expert."

"Nobody is."

Shelley nodded. "Got that right. Look how that 'Fifty Shades' book did. Who would have thought?" She shook her head. "Think you can keep this up, while working on your thesis? Writing a novel isn't the easiest thing."

"I know, I know. I've been working on it slowly over time. Almost done, actually. I'm just going over it again to make sure it doesn't completely stink."

"Well, okay." She delivered a probing gaze. "Just don't let it interfere with your real work here."

"I won't," I said. "Promise."

"Uh huh," she replied. She pointed two fingers toward her eyes, then at me. "Don't forget."

She picked up the manuscript again. "Who knows? With some real effort, you might even prove your original point." She scanned the pages.

That was as close to a concession as I would ever get from Shelley.

"Thisalmost reads like a movie script," she added. "All high concept and big actionand suspense. Not that it's bad. But if you can make it more than just that,you could make it amazing."   

* * *

Later, I drove home after a long day at the library, followed by a shift at the bookstore. It was almost nine. I was beat and starved. Lunch had been a cup of yogurt and a banana. More like an appetizer than a meal. As I'd shelved books, my thoughts had been so consumed with the story, half the customers who asked me questions were treated to a dazed look and the cogent response, "Huh?"

Show, don't tell. Weave in backstory. Truisms, guides, rules, pointers—call them what you will. It was the kind of stuff writers heard all the time. Yet, somehow, writers were always bending these rules just a bit. Bending them to serve their own purpose. Inserting huge chunks of backstory so colorful you didn't mind reading it—even though conventional wisdom said to do so would slow the narrative. And adverbs. Never use an adverb. Oh, really? Well, I wish I had a dime for every adverb I'd read, even in the best-written books. Never say never.