He wanted his girl, and he couldn’t have her, and he wanted to crack someone’s head open with his cue stick.
By the end of the night, he would want to crack his own head open, for not pulling her into his arms that morning and asking her what was wrong.
This is one of those evil cliffhanger chapters; the sort that, when reading for the first time, requires you to turn the page and read just one more chapter. It's also a chapter that highlights why multi POV is my preference when writing any sort of book in any genre.
Real life is limited POV, and we have only our own observations and experiences to go on. After a tumultuous event, we compare notes with others involved, and get a clearer picture of what was actually happening, as opposed to our personal perception of what occurred. Limited POV books (I've written two, College Town and Walking Wounded) can be really rewarding when the main character experiences a big reveal, but I find they don't provide the real-time action experience I'm aiming for in most of my books.
Writing is a very cinematic process for me. I'm blocking shots in my head, and panning an imaginary camera. In a film, we'd cut from scene to scene, from character to character, in a way that tells the complete story, rather than a part of it.
Ava and Mercy are both hurting here, and if we stuck with Ava's POV, we wouldn't get to see Mercy's anguish based on his outward behavior alone. Given what comes next, it was essential to spend some time in Mercy's head. Ava's thinking he hates her, wondering how to handle her pregnancy, meanwhile he's applying ointment to a tattoo of her teeth and feeling sorry for himself. It's much more painful (awesome) when you get to walk in both their shoes.
Carter lived in a seedy neighborhood, full of unkempt lawns and rusted-out decades-old cars. All the angles seemed a little off, a little saggy, a little too slanted. The houses gave the impression of slitted eyes peeping from the wilderness, sleeping beasts who didn’t want to be approached.
Carter's POV here is important for two reasons. One, just to show what sort of person he is, and where he comes from, so that him eventually prospecting the club makes sense. I always forget much I love Carter; brave boy! It also offers a glimpse into the sad truth that status doesn't always mean anything. Carter's one of the most popular kids in his grade, but comes from a rough home life. Ava's a pariah, considered trash by her peers, but comes from a well-kept, loving, stable home.
The other reason I wanted to use Carter here is because it keeps the action rolling right along. It creates urgency for the characters, and the reader. If we learned about Ava's abduction through Carter telling the guys about it, the impact is passive, as opposed to the very active scene of him finding her truck, and then her phone, and realizing what's happened. Plot momentum is too often conflated with brevity. A short book, filled with quick, punchy sentences offers a false sense of forward movement. In truth, momentum is created by active scenes of unbroken narrative. Mercy hearing about Ava is a passive scene, no matter how much it affects him; Carter finding the phone is an active scene. The more active scenes you include, the more the book starts to feel like a movie you're watching, and that's always my goal.
Up next: it's a doozy. It also contains one of my favorite moments in the book. "Ava, call him off."
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