Dear ______,
I was surprised to hear from a certain source that you have now determined on yet another progressive step in your career – this time into romantic pulp fiction.
I'm sure you realise that this liaison could easily result in emotional turmoil and bitter disappointment. You will have to balance the quiet and satisfying routine of your domestic duties with the raucous fame of existing in the lending library network! But you know your own business.
Of course, you do have a problem, don't you? Yes, the old one: COMPOSITION. It is difficult economically and convincingly to construct a basic structure for your work. (We literary craftsmen usually call it 'the plot'.)
Yes, I accept that you have great facility with dialogue. All you characters will have appropriate speech balloons – the words fit the characters. But will your words and characters fit a basic plot which is credible and compelling?
I enclose a specially prepared outline Romantic Pulp Fiction Plot Line for you. It contains the essential elements of successful pulp.
- Ten characters, smoothly introduced for later interaction
- Diverse backgrounds and experiences
- Complexity of motivation
- Plot speed 6,000 rpm
- Breathless suspense
- Instant reader association and loyalty
JUST READ THIS PLOT LINE IN A QUIET SYMPATHETIC MANNER. THEN REFLECT. Soon your creative fizz will emerge. I know you will succeed.
Conrad
PULP FICTION PLOT LINE
"GUILTY IN GUILDFORD"
A story of complex emotions,
misunderstandings and estrangements
After 30,00 words (large type) all conflicts are resolved. The final denouement is a large cheque winging its way over to your outstretched fingers.
The door of the coffee shop swung open. On the threshold stood Jessica, a relaxed athletic figure in her sports twin set and pearls. She flexed her muscles as she coolly surveyed the room. Near by, she saw Anne the journalist friend of her lover, Jerry. Jessica moved swiftly to sit opposite her. "You ordered? she enquired laconically. "Yes," breathed Anne, and poured coffee for both of them. There was a silence.
Finally, Jessica said "I suppose we'd better get on with it. I recognise that you know all about Jerry and me. You know we are destined for each other. It's natural, really, me being a rock climber and he being Guildford's leading courturier. You've got to let us go!"
Anne looked slyly over the rim of her coffee cup. "Why should I? she breathed. "I would release Jerry if I thought you would be faithful to him, but you're not. What about Uffwot?" she hissed (with difficulty).
Jessica flinched momentarily, but then riposted "Uffwot? Not Uffwot the distinguished Swedish pâtissier, whose apple flans are famous for miles around?"
"The very one, as well you know!" Anne confirmed. "You and Uffwot have been seen together late at night. Only last Tuesday, David and Tracy observed you both stumbling out of the back of the bakery brushing crumbs off your clothes at three o'clock in the morning."
"No one would believe such a ridiculous story," said Jessica dismissively. Nevertheless, her blushes belied her hauteur. "Yes, they would," breathed Anne. "After all, David's a policeman and the bakery's on his beat." "Oh, and is Tracy on his beat?" demanded Jessica, coarsely, "because I thought he was married to Hazel."
Anne glanced slyly at her coffee companion. "You know he is. But there've been some marital problems. She was seeking David's professional advice." "What, at three o'clock in the morning? I don't think so," expostulated Jessica.
"If you'll just let me finish," breathed Anne, "Hazel knew all about Tracy seeing her husband. In fact, as a skilled marriage counsellor, she arranged the meeting herself. As you know, Tracy is a permanent Night Nursing Officer at the Contusion Infirmary. It was easy for her to break away for a short break. Her husband Albert, being a commodity broker, was fast asleep."
"And what advice about marriage problems could be given by a police constable and not by a skilled therapist?" demanded Jessica.
"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that," murmured Anne. "It has to do with hidden love – between men. Jerry and Uffwot!"
"You mean, they're homos?" cried Jessica, to the intense interest of the other coffee shop customers. Anne reproved her quietly. "They're consenting adults. In private. They met through Albert, who organised the entire ring. As you know, Uffwot can speak no English and Jerry was the only one with any Swedish. Incidentally, how did you manage to communicate with Uffwot?"
"By touch and expression, I guess," acknowledged Jessica. There was a brief silence. The Jessica asked "Am I the first person you've discussed all this with?" Anne glanced at her sideways before replying. Then, she spoke clearly and firmly. "You shall not be the last," she said. "I'm going to unearth every little squalid secret and sin in Guildford."
Anne now rose from her seat and stood with quiet dignity. She declared in moving tones: "I am going to reveal the full extent of the corruption which is corroding our society. In the end, the fair name of Guildford will once more stand for everything decent and dull." Anne sat down to ringing applause of the coffee shop customers.
However, Jessica was not to be cowed by this female Savonarola. She stood over Anne. "You!" she mouthed. "You're pathetic. You think you can come into our town and change our old customs and ways? You think you're a match for Old Nick and his Merry Throng? So, it's war, is it? Old Guildford and new Guildford. So be it!" And with that she departed to the ringing applause of the coffee shop customers.
Anne breathed a sly smile and turned once more to her coffee.
There it is. You have enough material to write a whole series on The Battles of Guildford.
