Creative Writing Brick

In the movie "Throw Momma From the Train" Owen takes a creative writing class.  I think some day I will do

Owen loves his Momma

 the same thing.  I love reading those pulp fiction "who done its".  Also in the movie Larry has trouble getting started with a book he is writing because he can't seem to come up with the perfect first line.  Well I've started my book and not only do I have the perfect first line, I have a great hook and twist.  Now please be aware that I am very generous with words like "perfect" and "great" when it comes to critiquing myself and I have no idea if "hook" and "twist" are words real writers ever use, but, like my book, I'm just making it up as I go.  So here is the first page of 

Walk Reading

I had never hunted another human being before.  Rarely had I hunted anything and most of the time hunting for me was an exercise in extreme futility.  But today I was determined to find my human prey, take aim, and squeeze the trigger.  I was feeling elated at the prospect as I stalked through the green and brown underbrush.  The planning for this ambush had not necessarily been meticulous because meticulosity implies a certain level of expertise or at least aptitude.  I had neither.  But I was motivated and I had devoted a great deal of time over the past few weeks to visualizing the event.  Not the aftermath or the consequences, but the actual thing.  I realized how bad I wanted to do this. 

This was not just a random victim.  I knew the person that I envisioned on the other side of the gun sight and I was taking great pleasure in the thoughts going through my mind of seeing the look of pain and confusion as he realized that it was me that had shot him.  As I crawled behind a rotting log that smelled of earth and decay I heard a sound to my right.  I flattened against the ground taking care that the muzzle of my gun was pointed up.  I didn’t really enjoy sprawling on the ground in June.  The air was still and the sun was hot.  Sweat trickled into my eyes and stung them.  I tried to wipe them clear, but only managed to spread dirt on my already filthy face.   Sharp blades of grass stung my hands as I crawled to the end of the log.  I looked to the west and the horizon was blocked by a copse of evergreens.  Just to right of the trees was a dirt path that looked well worn and recently tread upon.  “He is going to come down that trail anytime now and then he’s mine”, I thought and a smile creased my face.

I didn’t like having to wait for my opportunity because it gave me too much time to think.  In the vision that I had run through my mind hundreds of times before I didn’t have to wait.  He walked in front of me, I shot him, he looked and saw it was me, I turned and walked off.  End of game, end of story, end of my desire to exact a semester’s worth of revenge.  My mind kept dancing around tough guy catch phrases that I had either heard in the theater or on my television or better yet new ones that I was coming up with on the spot.  Arnold, “You know Sully when I said I was going to kill you last?  I lied.”  Clint, “Go ahead, make my day.”  Me, “Time to pay your reality check.” 

It wasn’t good to let my mind wonder like this, I needed to stay focused.  At best I was only going to get one chance at this.