The basic rule of writing pulp fiction, according to Jack Savage, is Type Hard, Type Fast
Let me give you an example from Chapter 1.
Jack Vicious was in trouble and he knew it. It wasn't the hissing of the air escaping from the engine room air lock. It wasn't the stink of diesel fuel swirling around his boots. It wasn't the racket that that God awful parrot was making as it crashed about in its cage, trying to escape. Just like Jack, it wanted out. Jack looked about, taking stock as it were. “That crazy broad, I should never have listened to her.” I couldn't help but think that some of this was my fault. Yes sure, the money was good but was this kind of trouble worth it? “Well, as they say in the movies, it was that dame. I never should have stayed around.” I looked about. There didn't seem to be any way out of this steel box that was the throbbing heart of the tramp steamer. The engine fed by the steam boilers created an awful noise. It made the steel plates vibrate it was so bad. The sweat was streaming down my face the humidity was so high. It was time to get out. “Come on bird, I can't leave you here.” I grabbed the cage and swung up the ladder to the air lock, improperly shut from the last stoker exiting the engine room. The escaping air was now a roar rather than a hiss, and I knew it was only a matter of moments before the boilers would blow back. I put my hand on the first hatch dog and pulled. At that moment the red warning light came on.
Never mind. This isn't blatant self-promotion. This books won't be finished until about December 2018 if I'm lucky. But you get the picture I hope.
Type Hard, Type Fast
Let me give you an example from Chapter 1.
Jack Vicious was in trouble and he knew it. It wasn't the hissing of the air escaping from the engine room air lock. It wasn't the stink of diesel fuel swirling around his boots. It wasn't the racket that that God awful parrot was making as it crashed about in its cage, trying to escape. Just like Jack, it wanted out. Jack looked about, taking stock as it were.
“That crazy broad, I should never have listened to her.” I couldn't help but think that some of this was my fault. Yes sure, the money was good but was this kind of trouble worth it?
“Well, as they say in the movies, it was that dame. I never should have stayed around.”
I looked about. There didn't seem to be any way out of this steel box that was the throbbing heart of the tramp steamer. The engine fed by the steam boilers created an awful noise. It made the steel plates vibrate it was so bad. The sweat was streaming down my face the humidity was so high. It was time to get out.
“Come on bird, I can't leave you here.” I grabbed the cage and swung up the ladder to the air lock, improperly shut from the last stoker exiting the engine room. The escaping air was now a roar rather than a hiss, and I knew it was only a matter of moments before the boilers would blow back.
I put my hand on the first hatch dog and pulled. At that moment the red warning light came on.
Never mind. This isn't blatant self-promotion. This books won't be finished until about December 2018 if I'm lucky. But you get the picture I hope.