Eric Collins's Blog
August 23, 2012
Hey, no partner yet?
When the reader of The Testing Point first meets Officer Ben Grasso, he is working alone. Officer Moreno greets him with, "Hey, no partner yet?" Of course Ben would soon have a partner, and that would change everything. But in too many communities, law enforcement officers routinely patrol alone. It's a budget issue. It costs more to put two officers in a patrol car. With one officer in each car, a community can have more patrol cars and better coverage with the same number of officers. But the fact of the matter is that having a partner is much safer than patrolling alone. Many big cities and many communities with high crime rates do assign two officers to a car, but too many don't.
Here's part of a story from PoliceOne.com, a website that serves as a resource for law enforcement officers. It's from a story detailing the dangers faced by Florida law enforcement officers who ride solo and who are asking, for safety reasons, to be assigned partners.
"I don't see how the guys down here work by themselves," said Ed Wright, who recently retired after working 30 years in New York, New Jersey and Florida.
Wright, 59, helps run a law enforcement accessory shop in Davie, but may not have made it to retirement if he patrolled alone, he told a group of wide-eyed Broward officers recently.
Wright chased a suspect into a New Jersey warehouse, but fell through a hole in the floor and plummeted 14 feet to the ground. He couldn't move.
When he looked up, a gun was pointing in his face. A gunshot rang out in the deserted warehouse. Wright closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was still alive. His partner had shot the gunman.
"Having a partner absolutely saved my life," he said.
My dad was a patrol officer. He always had a partner. The two watched out for each other and kept each other safe. One of my dad's police buddies was killed in the line of duty on a night in which his partner had called in sick. The officer worked solo that night and was killed responding to a robbery in progress. Doesn't every patrol officer deserve the extra level of protection provided by a partner?
Here's part of a story from PoliceOne.com, a website that serves as a resource for law enforcement officers. It's from a story detailing the dangers faced by Florida law enforcement officers who ride solo and who are asking, for safety reasons, to be assigned partners.
"I don't see how the guys down here work by themselves," said Ed Wright, who recently retired after working 30 years in New York, New Jersey and Florida.
Wright, 59, helps run a law enforcement accessory shop in Davie, but may not have made it to retirement if he patrolled alone, he told a group of wide-eyed Broward officers recently.
Wright chased a suspect into a New Jersey warehouse, but fell through a hole in the floor and plummeted 14 feet to the ground. He couldn't move.
When he looked up, a gun was pointing in his face. A gunshot rang out in the deserted warehouse. Wright closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was still alive. His partner had shot the gunman.
"Having a partner absolutely saved my life," he said.
My dad was a patrol officer. He always had a partner. The two watched out for each other and kept each other safe. One of my dad's police buddies was killed in the line of duty on a night in which his partner had called in sick. The officer worked solo that night and was killed responding to a robbery in progress. Doesn't every patrol officer deserve the extra level of protection provided by a partner?
August 20, 2012
Bull!
A friend of mine told me that she admired my creativity. "Imagine being able to come up with a character like Bull," she said. Well, the fact of the matter is that Bull, Ben's rogue biker friend, is based on a real person. He was a bigger-than-life member of Hells Angels*.
I met Bull on a summer's day at Revere Beach when I was 16 years old. I had bought a used 305 Honda Superhawk motorcycle. The Superhawk is a small bike and looks even smaller when parked next to a big Harley. I bought the motorcycle for practical reasons (are you buying that?). In Massachusetts, a teenager can get a driving permit at the age of 16, and a driving license at the age of 16 and 6 months. At 16 years of age, I got my permit, and was then allowed to drive a car in the company of an adult licensed driver. However, with a driving permit, one could operate a motorcycle without an accompanying adult. As a matter of fact, with a permit, you were required to operate the bike solo. Freedom, 6 months earlier than my friends who opted for cars only.
On this summer's day, I drove slowly along the beach looking for just the right place to stop and "hang out." Up ahead I saw that the Hells Angels had diagonally parked their bikes in an impressive formation right at my favorite spot. No problem. There was one open space big enough for my bike. I carefully backed my undersized bike to the curb, felt the back tire lightly touch the curb, and shut down my machine. I could see and feel the HAs looking at me. I got off my bike, walked over to the wall where they were all sitting, and took a seat next to Bull. The conversation went something like this.
"You got balls, kid."
"Why's that?"
"Is that your piece-of-shit bike?"
"Yeah."
"What are you doing riding a Honda?"
"That's what I can afford. Why? Are you offering me your bike?"
Bull and I hit it off right away, partly because he liked the way I hung on his every word as he told me stories of his adventures on the road. He was quite articulate and bright and was a great storyteller. When he wasn't terrorizing people, the Texas native was earning a living in the Merchant Marines. He would work until he felt he had enough money to go on the road for a while. It sounded like the ideal life to me. I figured I'd put that idea on hold until after college. Funny how it never really happened for me.
Bull lived in a small dilapidated house in which he had an interesting security system. He perched a shotgun on the kitchen table. It was aimed at the front door. A trip wire would pull the trigger in the event of an unauthorized entry. And it actually worked! One day Bull arrived at the house to find a hole in his door. No blood. No sign of intrusion. Bull figured the gun scared an intruder away. I'm thinking a mouse ran across the table.
* If you're an English major, you might be thinking that Hells Angels should have an apostrophe - Hell's Angels. This was pointed out to the group. They responded that there are many hells and they all have angels. (In other words, hells is plural.) Of course this would mean that the name still needs an apostrophe - Hells' Angels. You can take this up with them the next time you meet them if you would like.
I met Bull on a summer's day at Revere Beach when I was 16 years old. I had bought a used 305 Honda Superhawk motorcycle. The Superhawk is a small bike and looks even smaller when parked next to a big Harley. I bought the motorcycle for practical reasons (are you buying that?). In Massachusetts, a teenager can get a driving permit at the age of 16, and a driving license at the age of 16 and 6 months. At 16 years of age, I got my permit, and was then allowed to drive a car in the company of an adult licensed driver. However, with a driving permit, one could operate a motorcycle without an accompanying adult. As a matter of fact, with a permit, you were required to operate the bike solo. Freedom, 6 months earlier than my friends who opted for cars only.
On this summer's day, I drove slowly along the beach looking for just the right place to stop and "hang out." Up ahead I saw that the Hells Angels had diagonally parked their bikes in an impressive formation right at my favorite spot. No problem. There was one open space big enough for my bike. I carefully backed my undersized bike to the curb, felt the back tire lightly touch the curb, and shut down my machine. I could see and feel the HAs looking at me. I got off my bike, walked over to the wall where they were all sitting, and took a seat next to Bull. The conversation went something like this.
"You got balls, kid."
"Why's that?"
"Is that your piece-of-shit bike?"
"Yeah."
"What are you doing riding a Honda?"
"That's what I can afford. Why? Are you offering me your bike?"
Bull and I hit it off right away, partly because he liked the way I hung on his every word as he told me stories of his adventures on the road. He was quite articulate and bright and was a great storyteller. When he wasn't terrorizing people, the Texas native was earning a living in the Merchant Marines. He would work until he felt he had enough money to go on the road for a while. It sounded like the ideal life to me. I figured I'd put that idea on hold until after college. Funny how it never really happened for me.
Bull lived in a small dilapidated house in which he had an interesting security system. He perched a shotgun on the kitchen table. It was aimed at the front door. A trip wire would pull the trigger in the event of an unauthorized entry. And it actually worked! One day Bull arrived at the house to find a hole in his door. No blood. No sign of intrusion. Bull figured the gun scared an intruder away. I'm thinking a mouse ran across the table.
* If you're an English major, you might be thinking that Hells Angels should have an apostrophe - Hell's Angels. This was pointed out to the group. They responded that there are many hells and they all have angels. (In other words, hells is plural.) Of course this would mean that the name still needs an apostrophe - Hells' Angels. You can take this up with them the next time you meet them if you would like.
August 12, 2012
The Downtown Villa Motel
A few of the scenes in The Testing Point take place in the Downtown Villa Motel. The Villa is fictional, but it's based on the motel at which I worked during my high school and early undergraduate years. It was mob owned, and many of the regular customers were "connected". The motel's lounge could get wild, with its wise guys, hookers, and bar hoppers. I started out as the under-aged desk clerk and auditor who illegally worked the midnight-to-eight shift. In this capacity, I was also the night manager. This made for some interesting situations. For instance, I was the manager of the lounge, but too young to enter. The bartender, a by-the-book kind of guy, would bring complaining patrons out to me at the desk so that I could resolve problems and disputes. It was exciting work for a teenager. I learned a lot about how to think on my feet, interact with all kinds of people, and have some fun in the midst of chaos and anarchy.
August 4, 2012
Through Their Eyes
From the first sentence, it is clear to the reader that The Testing Point is told in the third person. It begins, "Ben Grasso turned his cruiser into the parking lot of the Downtown Villa Motel." Had I decided to write the book in the first person, it would have begun, "I turned my cruiser into the parking lot of the Downtown Villa Motel." Writing in the third person puts me, the author, in the role of observer. I'm looking down on the scene and describing it for the reader. In a typical third person tale, the author is not just an observer, but is an omniscient observer - the all-knowing and all-seeing observer.
In The Testing Point, the story is told by an observer but not by an omniscient, all-knowing and all-seeing observer. The observer throughout the book knows only what Ben knows when the story is being told from his perspective, or what Dina knows when the story is being told from her perspective. Some paragraphs alternate back and forth between their perspectives. For instance on page 2 of the book I wrote, "In Ben's mind, Taylor was the kind of person who recognized only two kinds of people; useful and useless." This is clearly written in third person. But an omniscient observer could have written, "Taylor was the kind of person who recognized only two kinds of people; useful and useless." The former allows for some uncertainty. Since this is Ben's perception, it could be faulty. Maybe Ben is a poor judge of character. The latter would indicate definitive truth given to the reader by the all-knowing observer and teller of the tale. We are told authoritatively that Taylor recognizes only two kinds of people.
Writing the way I did proved to be a challenge. I had to constantly ask myself, "Would Ben or Dina know this?" or "Would Ben or Dina be able to see this?" I think writing in the third person gave me more freedom in telling the story, but I think writing from the perspectives of Ben and Dina made the story more personal and allows the reader to become better acquainted with the main characters. It also keeps the reader guessing about all the other characters.
In The Testing Point, the story is told by an observer but not by an omniscient, all-knowing and all-seeing observer. The observer throughout the book knows only what Ben knows when the story is being told from his perspective, or what Dina knows when the story is being told from her perspective. Some paragraphs alternate back and forth between their perspectives. For instance on page 2 of the book I wrote, "In Ben's mind, Taylor was the kind of person who recognized only two kinds of people; useful and useless." This is clearly written in third person. But an omniscient observer could have written, "Taylor was the kind of person who recognized only two kinds of people; useful and useless." The former allows for some uncertainty. Since this is Ben's perception, it could be faulty. Maybe Ben is a poor judge of character. The latter would indicate definitive truth given to the reader by the all-knowing observer and teller of the tale. We are told authoritatively that Taylor recognizes only two kinds of people.
Writing the way I did proved to be a challenge. I had to constantly ask myself, "Would Ben or Dina know this?" or "Would Ben or Dina be able to see this?" I think writing in the third person gave me more freedom in telling the story, but I think writing from the perspectives of Ben and Dina made the story more personal and allows the reader to become better acquainted with the main characters. It also keeps the reader guessing about all the other characters.
July 30, 2012
Coffee Talk
Whenever rookie officer Ben Grasso, the main character in my new novel, talks to his father who is a retired police officer, he almost always does it over a cup of coffee. Similarly, I can remember many coffee-cup discussions with my dad, who was a Boston police officer assigned to the night shift.
Having a cup of coffee together was a kind of social ritual. My father would start the ritual by asking, "Want a cup of coffee?" I would invariably answer, "Sure." It wasn't really a request for coffee on his part. It always meant he wanted to talk. I never refused participation in the ritual.
When I was in my teens, the morning routine was that my dad would arrive home from work just after 7am. Depending on the time of year, I would at that time of day be getting ready to go off either to school or to work. But there was always time for a cup of coffee first.
It was during these morning discussions that my dad would tell me about the adventures that took place during the night shift while I had been sleeping safely in my bed. I have taken the stories that he told and woven them together into my first novel, The Testing Point.
Of course, not all of the stories in the book came from my father. Some happened to me, some happened to friends, and some "grew like Topsy" in my imagination. I wish my dad were here today so I could tell him about the book. Undoubtedly I would begin by saying, "Want a cup of coffee?"
Having a cup of coffee together was a kind of social ritual. My father would start the ritual by asking, "Want a cup of coffee?" I would invariably answer, "Sure." It wasn't really a request for coffee on his part. It always meant he wanted to talk. I never refused participation in the ritual.
When I was in my teens, the morning routine was that my dad would arrive home from work just after 7am. Depending on the time of year, I would at that time of day be getting ready to go off either to school or to work. But there was always time for a cup of coffee first.
It was during these morning discussions that my dad would tell me about the adventures that took place during the night shift while I had been sleeping safely in my bed. I have taken the stories that he told and woven them together into my first novel, The Testing Point.
Of course, not all of the stories in the book came from my father. Some happened to me, some happened to friends, and some "grew like Topsy" in my imagination. I wish my dad were here today so I could tell him about the book. Undoubtedly I would begin by saying, "Want a cup of coffee?"
July 19, 2012
Ben and Dina's story begins!
Welcome! I'm a first-time author, so this is all very new and exciting to me. Somehow during the writing and editing process, and then even during the publishing process, the whole thing didn't quite seem real. It took having GR people add The Testing Point to their bookshelves and request the book in the giveaway to make it all a reality for me. I intend to use this blog to solidify and convey my thoughts on my own reading, and my experiences with the authoring process. I will also be discussing all things related to The Testing Point and will be previewing the second book in the story of Ben and Dina. That book is already well underway. I hope you will join the discussion by commenting. Check back with me soon. We have a lot to talk about.
Eric
Eric
