Make your hero suffer like you don't care what your friends think

Title: 11/22/63

Author: Stephen King

Progress: 100%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover/E-Book List: #1 (debuted at number 1, and still at number 1)

Book 6 out of 107

Annnnnd ... we are back...

The holidays and work got in the way of this little project. Life does get in the way of our big plans, doesn't it? Fate throws things in our way, tests us, makes sure we really want what we say we want. 

That thought ties in nicely with "11/22/63," which is about about fate, about the things we can and cannot change.

When last we talked, I was halfway done reading it and had mapped out the outline Mr. King used for the first two quarters. The second two section fall perfectly into an outline, with big course changes happening at 50% and 75%.

Section Three has our hero, Jake, spying on Lee Harvey, working out if he actually was the JFK assassin or not. This is an important story problem because if Jake knows for sure, this becomes a short book. Jake kills Lee, runs back through the rabbit hole, and boom, done.

With a smidge of doubt, Jake just can't kill Lee in cold blood. He can't murder an innocent man. He has to know for sure.

This section is the most problematic, and Mr. King has said in interviews that he hopes it's not boring, all the logistics of setting up eavesdropping equipment and then doing the tedious work of actually spying on people. 

Mr. King's instinct is right. Those bits are boring. Why? Because Lee Harvey is a bore. He's a snotty, spoiled brat with delusions of grandeur. Until he picks up his rifle and goes out shooting at people, he doesn't do or say anything all that interesting. He's not actually part of a conspiracy, so Jake listens in on family arguments and political chit-chat. 

Luckily we've got the romantic sub-plot to keep us entertained. Will those crazy kids get together, our time traveler and his lovely librarian? We hope! 

The last quarter of the book is devoted to the prevention of the assassination and its aftermath. It's as  an exciting a final act as I have ever read. It's also a clever piece of clockworks that brings together all the gears, levers and springs that Mr. King has spent 100,000 words putting into the place and winding up.

Here are all the parts that come together...

1. Jake tells Sadie that he's from the future and why he is in 1962.

2. Sadie, her face horribly scarred after being attacked by her asshole ex-husband, is ready to help.

3. The mobsters who Jake has been robbing with his 100% accurate sports bet, catch up with him and beat the snot out of him. He is so injured that there is no way he can complete his mission without Sadie's help.

4. The past itself, as it has been for the entire book, makes things close to impossible. To change the future in such an epic way, the past demands a high price, punishing, heartbreaking price.

5. Lee himself reveals himself as the lone gunman, the single, arrogant asshole who decided he was special enough to change the world with nothing but a mail order rifle.

After all that comes together in the sixth floor of the Dallas Library Repository, Lee is finally stopped. The president is saved. We get what we were waiting for, and then we move into the aftermath, the effect of Jake's heroic cause.

I won't get into the ending. Some like it. Some hate it. I liked it, with some mixed feelings. 

I won't spoil the ending for you because it doesn't have anything to do with the lesson of the day. What is the lesson? Make your hero suffer like you hate him.

Yes, sure, absolutely, ever how-to-write-a-novel book says about the same thing. Yet, I've found it's hard to make my imaginary people, especially my hero, suffer. 

Part of me worries that going to far with the suffering would make my story overly dramatic and sensational. Another part of me actually feels bad for my people, doesn't want to hurt them too much, because I like them and want them to be happy.

And there is this other worry I have while writing, the worry about people I know reading my work and thinking...That is so cruel! So gross! I am so weirded out that this nice guy that I know wrote this hardcore, depressing, gross, sick stuff!

When writing, stop caring about the people in your personal life think.
Care only about keeping the reader on the page.

So I pull back. I soften. I sanitize.

Mr. King doesn't. He makes Jake suffer in a variety of ingenious ways, mentally and physically, from a cracked skull and bruised brain to the heartache of losing the love of your life. When Jake is beaten by the gangsters, you feel the pain of each steel-toed kick to the face and baseball bat to the spleen. You want it to stop, hope for it to end, and just when you think it might, Mr. King goes a little further, pummeling you as much as the hero.

I don't think Mr. King cares what the people in his personal life think. He cares far more about grabbing the reader by the neck and not letting go.

I think the lesson is if you aren't going so far that you fear offending your friends and family, you aren't going far enough.

Imagine if Stieg Larrson had cut out the anal rape scene in "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" because he was concerned about what his wife and friends would think. If he does that, the book doesn't work. We never understand Lisbeth's rage and develop the strong desire to see her come out okay. Without the rape scene, the book doesn't set the world on fire, and maybe doesn't even get published.

So what have we learned? Make your hero suffer, really suffer, suffer to the point you worry about what your family will think about you.

Next up, "1Q84."

Stephan King gets sexy in 11/22/63. Surprising!

Title: 11/22/63

Author: Stephen King

Progress: 50%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover/E-Book List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 6 out of 107

It's been a while since my last post. It's not because I've been too busy. It's because 11/22/63 is a freaking long book. I could have read The Litigators twice by now, but really, who would want to?

I'm halfway done and I remain steadfast in my opinion that Stephen King is lying when he says he doesn't outline. I think he thinks it makes him sound cool, like he's just so talented that he doesn't need a guide to get to the end of a book like the rest of us hack writers, like he's a jazz saxophone player riffing his way to the end of a bestseller without so much as making a note in a margin.

Yet, right there at 50%, bang, a major turning point, our hero Jake being sent in a new direction, one part of the story done, and another just begun.

If I could break into Mr. King's home and take a peek at his notebooks (after looking in his refrigerator, because who doesn't want to know what a guy like that eats?), I think I'd see something like this...

First Act -- We explain the rules of time travel, introduce Jake and have him go back in time to kill a guy who deserves killing. This will be a warm up act to the main event. This section is about Jake proving to himself he can take on history and win. 

Second Act -- This is the calm before the storm. Jake falls in love with the 50s, re-falls in love with teaching, then falls in love with a girl. This will make the reader love him and makes the stakes more personal. We will go into the second half of the book not just wondering about preventing JFK's murder, but worried that Jake won't get the girl and live happily ever after.

Stephen King gets romantic in Act Two of 11/22/63. More gore is sure to be around the corner. If King had baked this cake, it would be filled with blood and a time bomb filled with anthrax.

It's all working famously. Mr. King is awesome.

I was once of the opinion that one of his tricks was a little too worn. He will often lovingly develop a character, make you, the reader, care more than you really should about the fate of a fictional person. Then, cruelly and with relish, Mr. King will kill that character slowly, gruesomely and with a poet's attention to detail. I think his goal with his books from the 80s and 90s was only to terrify. The well developed characters were just a trick and felt contrived, created to be killed. This is especially obvious if you happen to read two King books in a row.

These days, as the horrorist revels in his post-death scare artistic phase, the frights don't seem to be the point. The point is about the character, about life, about love. The scares are a spice, but not the point of the meal.

This second act of 11/22/63 could be cut out, edited a bit, and released as a successful novella, a time travel love story between two misfits who find each other, he in the wrong time because of a wormhole, she in the wrong time because of her gender.

Some of the few negative reviews cite this romantic subplot as the bad thing in this book, as the thing they would like to edit out. Dumbasses.

If this were Mr. King's first novel, cutting out the romance would be the first bit of advice an editor or agent would give. Get rid of the fluff. Drive the plot forward. No cares about the characters. Readers want action. Get to the killing, blow some stuff up, can ninjas be involved? Sure, throw a little romance in there for the ladies, and a little sex for the guys, but get back to the guns as soon as you can.

Again. Dumbasses.

What have we learned this week? When your story has a heart, everything else -- the action, the gore, the frights, the dangers, the bad guys -- works better. A lot better. 

Man versus Push Back versus King kicking ass, King wins

Title: 11/22/63

Author: Stephen King

Progress: 31%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover/E-Book List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 6 out of 107

First off, Stephen King is a liar. He does outline. The evidence? Right there at the 25% mark comes the first big plot point of the book, a big gruesome tent pole moment that completes the first quarter of the story and launches us into the rest of it with great momentum. 


You can tell it’s a big King moment because it comes complete with a bloody struggle, a sledge hammer wielding maniac and a chest skewered with a bayonet. He goes for the horrific gross out and dares you to look away. You can't.

Second off, Stephen King is amazing. What a great read.

There is too much to talk about for one post – time travel, first-person narrative, bringing to life the 1950s – so I will talk about what I think is the most important lesson of the read so far. Let’s call this the lesson of Push Back.

Push Back is whatever is pushing back against your hero. In the last book, Zero Day, the Push Back against our hero, Reacher, was first the mystery of who killed the family, then the mysterious people trying to kill him, and then finally the ultimate bad guy.

A good Push Back, like a good tennis opponent, is tough, quite close to unbeatable, but just a sliver not tough enough to win the battle against our hero. However, the Push Pack should be tough enough to abuse our hero, bruise him, batter him, make him miserable, give him diarrhea (which happens in 11/22/63), and make him suffer in myriad ways.

With 11/22/63, Mr. King had an interesting problem with the Push Back. The story is about a guy who goes back in time to prevent the assassination of JFK. The hero of the story, Jake Epping, does his time traveling via a portal conveniently located in the pantry of a diner he frequents. I’m not going to get into all the details. It’s a time travel story, which means there are paradoxes and logic problem to be found if you look for them. So…moving on.

Jake’s problem, once he gets past dealing with living in the 50s (No I-Phones! No computers! No automatic transmission!), his obstacles are not that big of a deal. It would be easy enough to track a person down, kill him, then hustle back through the portal to home. Not a problem.

So here is the genius thing King does to solve his Push Back problem…Time itself starts pushing back. Every time Jake attempts to make a big change to the future (like saving a family from being murdered by an angry, drunken father), things get in his way. He gets a stomach flu. His car break down. The stairs he’s walking on crumble. He get a blinding migraine.

As convenient and contrived as the idea is, that time would seek to defend itself from being changed, it rings true. There are times, in the real world, when you are urgently trying to complete something and the universe seems to intelligently and methodically conspire against you. Have you ever had to get to the airport to catch a flight that you have just barely enough time to catch? And everything goes wrong that possibly could? Traffic is backed up due to an accident. The long term parking bus breaks down. The line to check-in looks miles long. The security line looks longer. You end up waiting in the one line with the metal detector that breaks. Arrrrrrgh!

When things start pushing back against Jake, you can relate to him, understand how he needs to work to decrease the odds of failure. He putsan extra can of gas in the car, repairs the spare tire, picks up a bottle of Kaopectate, just in case a stomach flu hits him. He needs to be paranoid and prepare for almost anything. 

He’s going to have to earn his chance to re-write history.

That feeling of the entire world being against him, testing him, making him work for his victory, that is powerful stuff and makes for tense, addictive reading. Despite the fantastic time travel plot, there is something extremely relatable about Jake and his struggle to get past fate, and a lovely taste of sweetness when he does.

What have we learned so far? Stephen King kicks ass. And he solved a story problem in a clever way that elevates this story above so many others that cover similar ground. It becomes more than just a time travel story, but a statement about man’s struggle with fate. These are big ideas delivered via a thrill ride. Nicely done.

Gauging the POV depth, plus a funny cat picture

Title: Zero Day

Author: David Baldacci

Progress: 100%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #4 (debuted at number 1)

Book 5 out of 107

Back after a few days off  for Thanksgiving with the family. With all the flying, I was able to finish off Zero Day. Nice job, Mr. Baldacci. I had a hard time putting it down. I eventually did, because reading at the Thanksgiving table would have been rude, but it was tempting to just keep on reading in between passing the stuffing and green bean casserole.

There are lots of things to learn from Zero Day, but as I'm anxious to get into the next book, I'll deal with just two.

I don't like riding in cars and I don't come when called. David Baldacci is now on my list,
and you don't want to be on Angry Cat's list.

First, (SPOILER ALERT!) at the end of the book, our hero Jack Reacher hits the road after a long, difficult case. He needs some downtime. He decides to go for a long drive. So he packs up his cat, named AWOL, and hits the road.

The cat sits peacefully in the backseat. The cat, at a gas station, leaves the car, goes somewhere to do his business, and then returns to the car with no coaxing.

As the owner of many cats, I can safely say that Mr. Baldacci has never owned or spent time around felines. They don't ride peacefully in the back seats of cars. Instead, they howl, meow and cry, detesting everything about the experience of being transported in a big, loud, stinky machine. I believe they consider it undignified.

Also, they do not, ever, ever, behave as dogs would behave. They don't come when called. They don't take care of business on a handy piece of grass and return to their vehicles. A cat set free, especially after a long car ride, is not going to obediently jump back into the back seat when finished. That cat will either run away or find something to hide under where he can watch you as he curses the day you were born.

This lack of cat knowledge is surprising because everything else in Zero Day is researched to within an inch of its life. I'm fairly certain I could build a decent nuclear bomb after taking in the last 50 pages where we get a detailed yet clear explanation of how such a bomb could be made.

The second thing, and this I think is the more interesting lesson, is about what I'll call the POV Depth Level, or POVDL.

As I think I made that term up, I get to define it. Let's go with... The depth that an author chooses to go into the the thinking of a character.

With the books I've read so far, the POVDL is quite high, more on the surface. In the thriller genre, the rule seems to be to reveal no thinking that doesn't immediately concern the plot. If it doesn't move the story forward, it doesn't hit the page.

Sure, sometimes we get a wise crack or quick observation about an attractive female (I've encountered nothing but male protagonists so far), but otherwise the hero's thinking is devoted almost exclusively to the case at hand as he reasons through the clues and plans out next steps.

In Shock Wave, the POVDL is so high I had a hard time getting into the head of the character and relating to him. Because of that, the book didn't grab me by the throat and make me care.

Not so with Zero Day. Jack Reacher became a real person to me. I think I could recognize him if I saw him on the street. I know a good bit of his likes and dislikes, how he treats people, what motivates him, and what scares him. I like him and  care about him. If he had died at the end of the book, which considering the situation was quite likely, I would have been angry. I'm looking forward to spending more time with him.

Having said all that, we don't actually get too deep into his thoughts. We get enough to make him come to life, but we get only a rare few bits that aren't related to solving the murders and tracking down a potential terrorist cell.  

Yet there were some perfect opportunities to get more into his thoughts. He is clearly attracted to the tough yet beautiful sheriff, Sam (short for Samantha), and aside from one admiring glance, we don't get to hear his internal monologue about what he really thinks about her, what he finds attractive about her, what he thinks of her eyes, her legs, or anything else about her.

In another section, he interviews a suspect who was kicked out of the Army due to the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy. Reacher tells the guy, "DADT was bullshit," but we don't get to know if he actually thinks that. What does he think about gays serving the military? It would be interesting to know as he had completed six tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq and has the medals and scares to prove it.

I liked Zero Day a lot, and I think it is an excellent example of a competent, entertaining thriller. 

I do wonder if it would have been more entertaining, and more effective, if Mr. Baldacci had moved a bit deeper into the POVDL of Reacher. I'm not asking for Franzen-level of introspection (but I do wonder what a Franzen-written thriller would be like). I'm asking for these thrillers I've assigned myself to read to give me a little something more than a few thrills that fade away as soon as I'm done reading.

Mr. Baldacci did give me a character I will remember for a long time, and am looking forward to meeting again. Here's hoping I get to know him a little better next time around.

What did we learn? I'm not sure. We did explore a bit my theory that the thriller genre could benefit from a deeper POVDL. Not sure I'm right about that. I'm hoping to find the book that proves the theory soon.

Next up, Stephen King's 11/22/63. I know, it's not technically a crime thriller, but it does feature a notable crime, people do get shot, and there are thrills. I'm stretching the rules a bit. I have a feeling there is a lot to learn in that one. Four and a half stars on Amazon so far. That is tough to do. 

Baldacci right on time with Zero Hour

Title: Zero Day

Author: David Baldacci

Progress: 25%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #4 (debuted at number 1)

Book 5 out of 107

In case you were wondering, here is how I'm choosing books for this project...

As soon as I finish a book, a go to the New York Times Bestseller's list for combined print and E-book fiction. The next book will be the highest on that list that falls within the broad range of crime thriller or mystery. I'm going for real world settings, no sci-fi or fantasy, though I love them both. 

I am looking for the best, or at least the most popular, books that have someone getting murdered in an early chapter. Or, as in the case of The Litigators, a clear conflict that will be resolved after several chapters of building tension.

I'm now on book 5, and now I have a few more rules.

I'm going to write a post at every quarter mark (25%, 50%, 75% and 100%), so I'll be posting a little less so I can read more. 

Those particular marks are good stopping points because thriller writers seem to outline based on those marks. The stories I've read so far all take important turns at the quarter marks, and I think that's by design.

Let's talk about outlining for a minute...

Stephen King says he doesn't write  with an outline, and he probably doesn't need to. He is writing epics. His books stretch for a thousand pages or more and have lives of their own, obeying their own rules of fiction, rules that Mr. King seems to make up as he goes along. He's like a jazz musician, playing within a certain key and construct, and then improvising as wildly and energetically as he can.

Thriller writer can't do that. These stories must be tight, effective, and deliver satisfaction in about 300 pages. Tom Clancy got away with some fat books, but everyone else in the genre keeps it tight. It's what the fans want. And when your publisher wants a book a year, I would guess tightly outlining is the way to go.

In my own experience of starting and abandoning novel projects, I used to be anti-outline, because I was too cool for that, too much of an artiste. Then I switched to screenplays, which have a lot rules, including a three act structure that every reader looks for. 

At first, I kind of hating all those screenwriting rules, which seemed so limiting, like the writer was reduced to changing a few variables in a formula, as opposed to creating something fresh.

You know what didn't happen when I writing screenplays? Writers block. Why? I had an outline. I had a plan. I knew where to go. I didn't always know how I would get there, but having a landmark to reach made writing so much easier.

On this novel I'm currently working on, I've got an outline l like a lot. I've got some big scenes that I think will work. I've got a finale I love. All those ideas came into existence because is started with an outline. 

An outline is a compass. It's a guide, nothing more. It's a tool, not a pair of handcuffs.

Getting back to Zero Day...

Holy shit. David Baldacci can write. This is the best book I've read so far as part of this project.

Here is what Mr. Baldacci does that I really like...

1. Killer opening that immediately establishes the mystery. A mailman discovers a murder scene that sends him running out of the house puking. We don't get to see inside the house, but we know that what is in their is horrible. The mailman puke on the lawn is proof.

2. Disciplined devotion to the main character, John Reacher. We stay almost exclusively in his point of view, and the only time we leave it is when another character has something to think about Reacher. This character is becoming real to me in a way that the other books I've read couldn't pull off. I am not saying this is a character-driven book. It is flying forward with great momentum, dropping plot twists at the end of every chapter, increasing the body count at disturbing rate. Even with all that action, Reacher to growing to be a fully realized, detailed and complex character.

3. Supporting characters get some love. When a supporting character takes the stage, Mr. Baldacci gives them a little something to bring them to life. He gives them each a little more description and dialogue than other authors will allow. This creates a richness to the world without slowing the story down. Also, because we are always in Reacher's POV, we are getting his views on these new people, so not only are we getting to know new characters, but are also learning more about how Reacher thinks. It's a great trick.

What have we learned? A lot. There is a lot to learn from Mr. Baldacci.

The rule remains true, in life and in writing

Title: The Litigators

Author: John Grisham

Progress: 100% done!

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 4 out of 107

As in math, chemistry, and physics,  the rule of consistency holds true for writing. If it worked before, it will work again.

The proof is the fight at the end of every Rocky movie. No matter how bad the that particular edition is (Rocky V, good god, the badness), the fight at the end is always effective, always gets your blood pumping, makes you clench your fists and take a few jabs at the air.

Even in the worst Rocky movies, the fight scenes always work. Same thing with Grisham courtroom scenes.
Was Rocky V the worst Rocky movie? Or the best of the sequels? Discuss.

Same thing with The Litigators. This is a book that was working for me up to the 75% mark. Then comes the court room battle, the fight, and suddenly I am all in.

Our hero David, completely outmatched by his opponent, totally abandoned by his partners, without the benefit of one fact in his favor, puts up a decent fight, and it glorious.

The court scenes are terrifically put together, and again, very much like a boxing match. In the opening rounds, David gets pummeled, and he takes the beating, doing what he can to stay in the ring. His offense doesn't exist. He has a quack doctor who barely speaks English and a pharmacology expert who flees the courthouse when called to testify.

David looks done, thoroughly defeated. Then, almost as if he had a brilliant plan to lull the opposition into a false sense of security, he strikes. He goes after the head scientist for the evil drug corporation like Rocky raining down left hooks on Mr. T.

Those scenes made hard not to cheer out loud. 

Despite the fact that David wasn't all the sympathetic, and that the lawsuit was bullshit, you root for the guy. He's the underdog and it seems even when the underdog is wrong, you still want him to win. How about that?

What did we learn? The end of Rocky always works, and that readers will root for even a flawed underdog.

John Grisham versus Rocky

Title: The Litigators

Author: John Grisham

Progress: 75%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 4 out of 107

This is how The Litigators works...


It is of the "legal thriller" genre, though this book is more legal than thrilling, flirting with the comic more than the dangerous. There are a few gunshots, but they don’t amount to much.

It is not a mystery. There is nothing to figure out. The compelling questions are answered almost as soon as they are asked.

It is not about the fight for justice or for truth, where an outmatched lawyer takes on a hopeless but worthy case and wins in the end, gets an innocent man off of death row, or wins millions for a town poisoned by the local chemical company.  

This book is more about the fight. It’s a kind of like Rocky but with guys in expensive suits talking about briefs and occasionally filing motions. There is a lot of motion filing.

Let’s break this story down...

"I'm gonna file a motion to bust you up."
"Go for it, but but first please stick this motion of summary judgment up your ass."
"I object!"
"I object to your breath."

Act 1: We meet the fighters, the good guys and the bad guys, the two sides that will end up in the ring punching it out. We get to know them, understand their motivations, look over their strengths and weaknesses, and figure out if we want to root for them or not.

Act 2: Fight preparation. Challenges are issued. Battle lines are drawn. The rules of engagement become clear. Each side marshals its forces, preparing for the first contact with the enemy. By the end of Act 2, the fight has been scheduled, the trial date set, the war declared.

Act 3: Training. Our hero gets in shape, often using unconventional means. (Remember Rocky chasing that chicken around a Philadelphia alley?) During this act, the villain becomes seemingly unbeatable, growing in power, becoming as fearsome as 1989’s Mile Tyson, as opposed to the comedic actor with the face tattoo we have in 2011.

During this act, the hero, during his intense training, will often get bad news, distracting him from his task. He will also be told by someone who knows a few things: “You can’t win. You’re doomed.”

That’s as far as I’ve got with The Litigators. I’m 75% done and heading into Act 4.

Here’s the problem…Rocky is an effective story because you like Rocky as soon as he shows up on the screen. He takes care of pigeons. He likes turtles. He’s got a shitty job but he’s dreaming big. If he was a douche for 75% of the movie, you’d root for Apollo Creed to bash his head in.

Our heroes in The Litigators are not Rocky. They lie, cheat and steal. They are motivated by greed. They will happily increase a client's misery if it will increase the firm's profits. They don't really care if they have truth on their side. They just want to get rich.

The one protagonist with some redeeming qualities, David, goes along for the ride, all the while knowing what his firm is doing with their bogus lawsuit concerning a cholesterol drug that is benefiting millions of patients.

It seems like Mr. Grisham, or maybe one of his editors, knew that a sympathy problem was developing. The idea isn’t to make the reader root for the giant, evil corporation, and yet, we readers come close to doing just that.

So, right in the middle of the book, a hero-making storyline is crowbarred in between the bad people performing bad lawyering. David takes on cases representing abused workers and a poor little boy brain damaged from chewing on a lead covered toy. These cases, noble as they are, feel tacked on and out of context. Perhaps they were notes from another book that Mr. Grisham cut and pasted from. Whatever the case, there is a clear need in to improve David’s character, so we readers could actually have a character to work for.

In any case, it feels patchwork, contrived and manipulative.

On the other hand, without those subplot bandages, I wouldn’t give a flying flaming duck poop about Wally and Oscar winning their case against the giant drug company who made a good drug and is getting sued by these two wastes of court room space.

Almost despite myself, I’m intrigued by what will happen at trial. Now that we are finally at fight day, I’m ready for some action. We’ve got the seasoned, well paid professionals up against our scrappy, desperate, inexperienced journeyman who have rarely argued in front of a judge.

So bring on Act 4. Will they win, like Rocky 2? Or just go the distance, like the superior Rocky 1?

 

What have we learned? Having a big fight between two interesting combatants at the end of your story is good, and having a hero people love in one corner, a villain to hate in the other, is better.