Ebenfalls bei Declan Burke entdeckt:
While the story itself has plenty of twists and turns and features the kind of detailed, unflattering depiction of Edinburgh that Rankin’s fans have come to expect, there is a growing sense of ennui, even as the story’s gathering momentum provides a page-turning quality.
Moreover, the plot hinges on a gamble taken by Fox and Breck’s foes, a gamble that is predicated on a rudimentary psychological evaluation. For a writer of Rankin’s quality, this is a ruse akin to deploying a deus ex machina and it lacks the power to bring the various strands together with his customary cohesion.
By the end the abiding feeling is one of disappointment that Rankin, with his reputation and (presumably) fortune already secure, wasn’t prepared to take more chances in terms of style, subject matter or narrative.
That The Complaints delivers what Rankin’s legions of fans have come to expect is undeniable, but it’s also true that those fans are entitled to expect more from one of crime writing’s standard bearers.
Number Three: Before you sit down to write a scene, mull it over in your mind and know the purpose of that scene. What earlier set-ups will this scene pay off? What will it set up for later scenes? How will this scene further your plot? As you work, drive, exercise, hold only this question in your mind. Take a few notes as you have ideas. And only when you’ve decided on the bones of the scene – then, sit and write it. Don’t go to that boring, dusty computer without something in mind. And don’t make your reader slog through a scene in which little or nothing happens.
Number Four: Surprise yourself. If you can bring the story – or let it bring you – to a place that amazes you, then you can surprise your reader. The moment you can see any well-planned surprise, chances are, so will your sophisticated reader.
Number Five: When you get stuck, go back and read your earlier scenes, looking for dropped characters or details that you can resurrect as „buried guns.“ At the end of writing Fight Club, I had no idea what to do with the office building. But re-reading the first scene, I found the throw-away comment about mixing nitro with paraffin and how it was an iffy method for making plastic explosives. That silly aside (… paraffin has never worked for me…) made the perfect „buried gun“ to resurrect at the end and save my storytelling ass.
Number Six: Use writing as your excuse to throw a party each week…
Ähem, ich bin dann mal weg.
Aber einen Hinweis habe ich noch: