Excerpt from Deleted Chapter at a strange Paris shop. Fun, but it didn’t further the mystery enough.
Dark gleaming eyes watched her.
Black lips parted to show fearsome fangs.
Mesmerized, Theodora stared at the snarling leopard crouched and ready to spring.
Laughter erupted nearby. Paused on the threshold, Theo fought the answering smile that quivered at the edge of her lips. Instead, she pressed one hand to her heart, the other to her brow, and faux swooned against the doorjamb. “Save me. I will be devoured.”
“Save you from such a unique death?” Paul exclaimed. “Never!”
“Indeed, what poet would spare you such a devastatingly delicious experience?” Casimir inquired.
“Delicious for the leopard,” Theo scoffed, stepping into Deyrolle’s taxidermist shop. Underneath bowls of potpourri exuding rosemary, lemon, and lavender, she breathed a musty aroma of fur and feathers, a hint of chemicals. Kneeling in front of the leopard, she felt its sharp fangs and stroked its rough, spotted pelt. She wished she could feel the muscle ripple beneath the hide. How wonderful that would be—to stroke a live leopard.
Despite all the praises Theo had heard, this was her first visit to Deyrolle’s. She loved living animals and had had little desire to visit a shop full of dead ones, however unusual. Now that she was here, to her surprise, she felt caught in its spell. There was a strange blending of cruelty and in love the preservation of these creatures. Violation and honor. Still kneeling, she looked about her. Hovering above the crouching leopard, a crane soared on outstretched wings. A passageway opened to either side. In one, a baby elephant lifted its trunk as if sniffing the air. In the other, a huge king cobra rose, spreading his hood. Beside the winding staircase stood a mannequin in a dapper suit and striped cravat, topped with the head of a gazelle. Deyrolle’s managed to be at once charming, sad, and unnerving.
Theo stood and went to join the Revenants who had responded to Averill’s request to meet here. Casimir, Paul, Jules were gathered around a glass case near the elephant. They were dressed in descending degrees of elegance, aristocratic, professorial, and shabby country church mouse. Also present were les trois Traits—the three Hyphens, as Paul had dubbed them—three slim, dark-haired poets named Jean-Jacques, Pierre-Henri, and Louis-LeRoi, professor, student, and fledgling lawyer …
There was a bucket with three bottles of iced champagne on the floor beside them, and a fancy basket held crystal flutes. An attendant waiting behind the cash register had a towel draped over his arm, as if champagne were de rigueur on such occasions. Theo looked around for Averill and saw him descend the curving staircase that led to the next floor. Her heart trip-stepped at the sight of him. At first he seemed freshly scrubbed, almost boyish. His hair was smoothly pomaded, his linen gleaming white, and his suit neatly pressed. When he came close to greet her, she saw dark circles under his eyes. Too much studying—or too much absinthe?
Showing posts with label Yves Fey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yves Fey. Show all posts
Floats The Dark Shadow by Yves Fey @YvesFey
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Genre – Historical Mystery
Rating – R
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Yves Fey on Breaking Elmore Leonard's Rule #3 @YvesFey #amwriting #amreading #writetip
Breaking Elmore Leonard’s Rule #3
“Rule #3—Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue,” he said.
“Well, how boring is that?” she said.
“Unobtrusive,” he said.
“Tedious,” she said.
“Concise,” he said. “Invisible.”
“Ha!” she said.
“Did you just use an exclamation point?” he said.
“Should I have exclaimed?” she said.
“Please don’t,” he said.
“Shouldn’t my last “said” be an “ask”?” she said, wondering about placement of internal quote marks.
“Just drop the tag,” he said. “Why ask at all?”
“What about rhythm?”
“Rhythm?”
“You know,” she said, “all the words together form a rhythm.”
“Ummm,” he said.
“And tags can be used to vary rhythm,” she said.
“Ummm,” he said again.
“How annoying!” she said, wishing he’d just repeat himself. “What about whispering? What about demanding? Cajoling? Yelling and yelping?”
“Tone and emotion should all be clear from context,” he said.
“Ha!” she said.
“That’s two. You get three every 100,000 words. Rule #5,” he said.
“You missed 4,” she said.
“Adverbs.” He shuddered visibly.
She could see that if he shuddered, it would probably be visibly. Refusing to be distracted, she stuck to her guns, though using a cliché might break rule #6. “Scolding? Reproving? Admonishing?”
“Only Victorians admonish,” he said.
“So you say,” she said.
“And academics,” he said.
“So dialogue tags can be used to characterize,” she said. It was not a question.
“Ummm,” he said.
“Muttering? Mumbling? Murmuring? Musing? Subtle differences all clear from context? Coaxing? Wheedling? Enticing?”
“Distracting,” he said. “Why clutter the sentence with ornate verbs?”
“Why not clarify the sentence with the exact verb?” she had to ask.
“It should all be clear from context,” he said. Again.
“What about sudden changes—all clear from context?”
“Really, all you need is said,” he said. “Simple. Clean. Unpretentious. All but imperceptible.”
“Years before I read Elmore Leonard’s rules,” she said, “I read a page and a half of a different bestselling author’s short terse dialogue, that ended with “he said” after every sentence.”
“Every sentence?”
“I mean ghastly,” she said. “Gruesome.”
“You exaggerate,” he said.
“Chinese water torture,” she said. “No, too subtle,” she said. “Sledge hammer!” she said – using another forbidden exclamation point.
“You used “said” too many times,” he said.
“Have I made my point?” she said.
Young American painter Theodora Faraday struggles to become an artist in Belle Époque Paris. She’s tasted the champagne of success, illustrating poems for the Revenants, a group of poets led by her adored cousin, Averill. When children she knows vanish mysteriously, Theo confronts Inspecteur Michel Devaux who suspects the Revenants are involved. Theo refuses to believe the killer could be a friend—could be the man she loves. Classic detection and occult revelation lead Michel and Theo through the dark underbelly of Paris, from catacombs to asylums, to the obscene ritual of a Black Mass.
Following the maze of clues they discover the murderer believes he is the reincarnation of the most evil serial killer in the history of France—Gilles de Rais. Once Joan of Arc’s lieutenant, after her death he plunged into an orgy of evil. The Church burned him at the stake for heresy, sorcery, and the depraved murder of hundreds of peasant children. Whether deranged mind or demonic passion incite him, the killer must be found before he strikes again.
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Genre – Historical Mystery
Rating – R
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