Deborah Heal: Creative Writing 101

Using Description to Characterize, Set the Mood, and Build Suspense

I’ve really enjoyed Dean Koontz’ writing through the years. And the endearing young man Odd Thomas, the title character for a series of mysteries, is one of my favorite literary characters. Some claim Odd's one of the most beloved fictional characters of our time. I have to admit I have a bit of a crush on him myself. Here in this excerpt from chapter thirteen of Odd Thomas, Koontz follows the sound practice of showing us, not telling us the bad guy is truly evil. Here Odd Thomas investigates the room of Robert Robertson, whom Odd thinks of as Fungus Man.

Side by side on the wall opposite the desk hung three black-and-white, poster-size photographs that appeared to have been printed on a draftsman’s digital plotter. They were head shots, portraits of men—one with feverish eyes and a gleeful smile, the other two glowering in the gloom. . .Charles Manson, the vicious manipulator whose fantasies of revolution and race war had exposed a cancer at the core. . .He had carved a swastika on his forehead. Whoever the other two might be, they didn’t have the look of either Vegas comics or famous philosophers. . . . [Koontz often inserts comic comparisons.]

Drawer after contained dossiers on serial killers and mass murderers.

The subjects ranged from Victorian England’s Jack the Ripper to Osama bin Laden, for whom Hell had prepared a special suite of fiery rooms. Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer. Charles Whiman, the sniper who killed sixteen in Austin, Texas, in 1966. John Wayne Gacy: He liked to dress up as a clown at children’s parties. . .

A particularly thick file had been assembled for Ed Gein, who had been the inspiration for both Norman Bates in Psycho and Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs. . .

A portrait of Timothy McVeigh hung to the right of Manson. . .

To the left hung Mohammed Atta, who had flown an airliner into one of the World Trade Center towers, killing thousands. . . As with Manson and McVeigh, [Fungus Man] apparently admired Atta for the terrorist’s cruel vision, brutal actions, and accomplishments in the cause of evil. . .

This room was less of a study than it was a shrine. . . .

Most likely Fungus Man was unaware that his sanctum served not merely as a catalogued repository for his homicidal fantasies but also as a terminal admitting bodachs [demonic spirit creatures] to a holiday of blood. Without my sixth sense, perhaps he could sit here, happily working on one of his grisly files, and not be conscious of the ominous transformation of the room or of the arriving hordes of demonic entities.

From nearby came a tick-tick-tick, a bone-on-bone rattle that brought to mind Halloween images of ambulatory skeletons. . . .

Perhaps Robertson [Fungus Man] required few luxuries because he found all the pleasure he needed in ceaseless bloody fantasies that gouted through his imagination. . . .

A sudden frenzied flapping-rattling almost brought me up from the chair again, but then a sharp and repeated skreek [a cool onomatopoeic invention of Koontz’] identified the source as crows pecking out their turf on the roof. . .

Even though Odd Thomas (and the reader) haven't even met the guy yet, this description of Robertson's room leaves no doubt in Odd Thomas' mind (and that of the reader) that he is truly evil. Koontz's description is used to build Robertson's character, to create a creepy mood, but also to ratchet up the novel's suspense. Just seeing where this guy lives causes the reader's dread and fear of the hero’s inevitable meeting with him to sky-rocket.

Write Brain Activity

1. What words in the passage contribute to the ominous mood of the piece?

2. Besides description, by what other methods do authors develop characters?

3. Do you think the mention of clowns helps or hinders the mood Koontz is trying to create?

The Writer's Chair

Okay, boys and girls, it's time to put our desks in a circle for our weekly Writer's Chair. Please give your attention to Miss Anonymous as she reads a portion of the novel she's been working on. As always, give her your honest feedback, but give it kindly and gently. Remember, this is her "baby" we'll be talking about. Miss Anonymous, before you begin reading, set us up a bit.

Well, this is an expert from the end of Chapter 9. Basically, a young girl (seemingly normal)

just witnessed a series of unexplainable, magical things. In this passage, she is

realizing just how different the rest of her life is going to be. A LOT of things happened

to lead up to this point, but I wanted to pick a passage that showed the magic of the

story, yet really captured Madelyn's inner feelings. Be warned, it probably won't make a

whole lot of sense story-wise, since you haven't read the other 8.75 chapters, but I hope

you like it none the same. So, here goes. . .

"Stand back." She shouted, focusing her attention on Symon's violent

emissions. "This is going to get hot."

As she instructed, I ran quickly towards an inlet against the wall. As soon as she

knew I was out of harm's way, she wrapped both of her hands around her wand and

began murmuring something beneath her breath. Symon must have realized what she

was doing because he began instantly backing away—but he reacted too slowly. For

as he finally turned and began running for safety, her wand began to glow. Symon

didn't make it twenty feet before he suddenly fell to his knees, gripping his head in

agony.

After a minute, or so, she released her enchantment—and Symon fell face-first

onto the floor below; his body began twitching uncontrollably and his bladder began to

empty onto the concrete below his body. Something about that mortifying image made

me think twice about the orange-haired girl, but the other part of me was gratified; I was

definitely on the right side of the battlefield.

I turned back to check on our comrade—who was fighting to survive his

handicapped battle. I was feeling confident in his success until one of the cloaked

individuals connected with his front paw. A deafening moan rumbled the fragile, brick

walls as he struggled to fend them off. The orange-haired girl turned towards me,

gripping my shoulders firmly.

"He needs my help; he won't survive long on his own. Madelyn, I want you to

listen to me very carefully: a few hundred yards back, I saw a passageway. Each of

these passages leads to an exit. I want you to run—as fast as you can. We'll come for

you. You're going to have to trust me on that." She said over another pained moan. "I've

got to go; good luck."

She let go of me without further warning and pranced quickly to his aid. I

watched for a brief moment before I realized I was wasting precious time. I turned and

began running quickly in the direction of the arena. It didn't take me long at a dead

sprint to reach the turn that I needed. Without hesitation, I rounded the corner as

quickly as I could. In the distance behind me, I could hear the pattering of footsteps

growing nearer by the second.

As soon as I rounded the corner, the light of an exit was barely visible in the

distance. Hopeful, I began running even faster than before. The adrenaline began

pumping through my veins—either from the excitement of from the fear—and I began

running quicker than I'd ever run before. As I came within a few hundred feet of the

exit, however, I came to a sudden standstill. Before me, where the road to my safety

should have been, was a deep, empty crater.

"It can't be a dead end." I whispered aloud to myself—tears beginning to swell up

in my eyes.

The tunnel's walls continued to rumble—and masses of brick persisted to

plummet from the ceiling. Then, a thunderous boom, most probably some sort of

explosion, echoed from deep within the tunnel. Immediately following, the walls began

to crumble before my eyes.

"No!" I shouted, realizing that my new friends remained trapped inside.

I failed to realized, however, that I had only two options. My first was to stand

within the tunnel—only to have tons upon tons of falling rock crush my delicate body.

My second and far more terrifying option was to take a leap of faith—right off of the side

of the cliff. Either way, I recognized that the likelihood of my survival was minimal.

I struggled between the two, looking in both directions—unable to find the

strength inside me to make such an unfavorable decision. Then, before I had the

chance to decide, the ground beneath me began to crack. Startled, I tried to run

forward, back into the tunnel. To my dismay, the entire expanse surrounding my feet

began crumbling; in a matter of seconds, the ground disappeared from beneath me. I

felt the gravitational pull yanking on my helpless body as I fell backwards out of the

brick-laid tunnel—and straight off the side of the cliff.

I literally felt as though I was watching the following moments in slow motion. I

looked on for what seemed like minutes as the collapsing tunnel began to grow further

and further away from me and I neared the jagged terrain below. In those few, short

moments, I'd begun to give up—and I was silently saying goodbye to what little ounce

of a life I had left to loose. Just as I started to close my eyes in surrender, a large, dark

shadow emerged from the crumpling passageway out of which I tumbled. It only took

the time of a heartbeat to realize that my savior had once again come through for me.

As his colossal, feline claws outstretched towards me, I reached my arms out for him. It

took little time to notice the orange-haired girl clinging effortlessly to his fur, looking

down towards me with determination in her stare.

In a swift motion, she leapt from his back into another somersault as he

simultaneously transformed into the massive horned owl from before. As his

transformation came to a complete conversion, he reached out and caught me with

his talons. Effortlessly, the orange-haired girl landed gracefully onto his back—and

we began flying away to safety. It wasn't until we began rising into the air again that I

realized I had been only inches from the ground when his claws snatched me.

He lifted his talon high enough for the orange-haired girl to pull me onto his back.

Once I was safely aboard, I took a moment to catch my breath. My heart began racing,

finally able to comprehend what had just happened—and my fingers began shaking

uncontrollably. Until that moment, I hadn't had the time to let everything sink in—

the torture, the deceit, and the bizarre things that I had witnessed. It wasn't until that

moment that I realized nothing in my life would ever be the same again.

"I can bet that this is a little overwhelming for you, isn't it?" The orange-haired girl

said with a smile. "Don't worry; things will get better. By the way, my name's Alba. I'm

happy to finally meet you, Madelyn."

I turned to see her staring back at me with a relaxed grin. Her eyes were the

brightest shade of yellow and feline in appearance. They were the most unique and

intriguing eyes that I had ever seen. She tied her hair back in a short ponytail and her

bangs swooped naturally to the side. She was a very pretty girl and her gaze radiated

genteelness.

"Pardon me for asking, but how exactly do you know my name? I don't think that

we've ever met." I asked, trying my hardest to piece everything together.

She giggled playfully at my question, and the lightness of the situation brought a

smile to my face. It had seemed like an eternity since I had smiled—and it felt nice

being in the company of somebody that wasn't trying to torture me.

"Don't worry, Madelyn. Everything will make sense, soon enough." She said with

a wink of her catlike eye.

The multi-colored clouds indicated that the morning was new—and the sun

brilliantly shined from the sky above. I stared at it in awe, mesmerized by its peaceful

appearance. Then, something caught my eye that beyond astounded me. A mile or so

ahead, floating through the sky before us was a massive, wooden ship. I snickered

under my breath as I watched it; had I seen it a day earlier, I would never have believed

that an inanimate object could fly. In that moment, however, I realized that anything

was possible—and the laws of rationality no longer applied.

It was assembled by means of the prettiest wood I had ever feasted my eyes

upon—and its massive flag bared a striking resemblance to a sail as it fluttered in the

morning wind. The entire scene was captivating and surreal—the kind one would have

to see to appreciate—or believe. I took a deep breath, soaking up the crisp, daybreak

air, and I finally began to feel at ease. For in that moment, I came to fathom two,

extraordinary things: my friends and I had just escaped a fate worse than death—and

our amazing adventure had only just begun.

Okay, let's hear it for Miss Anonymous! (Loud clapping) Now let's give Miss Anonymous some feedback on her story. I'll go first and then you chime in with your feedback by clicking on the "comment" button below this post.