In dangerous insurgent territory, David and Lyra discover they are being followed and soon a car chase ensues. They don’t yet know why they’re being pursued, but David is experienced enough to know the pursuers are up to no good and he tries to get away.
How do I write that scene?
By imagining it is already a completed scene in a big-budget movie. I picture how the action would look on screen, with no expense spared. I picture the long-shots and quick edits and even the heart-in-your-throat soundtrack.
Then I do my best to translate what’s in my head into words.
I know I didn’t succeed in draft #1:
Suddenly, David stamps on the gas, cranks the wheel and spins the car around. The tires squeal against the pavement and Lyra is thrown back against the seat. She braces herself. David floors the roaring jeep, and speeds off the way they came.
“What’s wrong?” Lyra asks. She stretches her arms to the dash.
“We will find gas another way.”
David guns the jeep; it fishtails onto the shoulder but David regains control. Lyra hears the rumble of another engine; she looks back. The gray-flaking car chases them, its growl growing loud as it approaches. The second and third cars, too, spurt to life and zoom up behind.
Lyra’s heart race; her breaths are shallow. “What’s going on, David?”
David, ramrod in his seat, hands clenched to the steering wheel, jumps the jeep over a large pothole. He pushes the jeep to its limit; its engine whines in protest, but David doesn’t let up. The souped-up clunkers are gaining. David squeals around a thin bend and Lyra screams when he misses the road. The jeep hurtles forward into the scraggy bush, but David doesn’t slow down. He hasn’t lost control.
Like most of my scenes from this first draft, the concept is there, but it’s not quite right. The version you’d picture reading that scene is nowhere near what I see in my head.
Take 2: I’ve altered the attack. Like I explained in the post “Lying Down on the Job”, I have David and Lyra stop at a gas station earlier, where the thugs first meet them. David and Lyra believe they’ve escaped conflict until a car (not three like from the first draft) from the gas station starts to follow them. I want to show David is aware and proactive, but also, in the end, outmatched.
David’s two hands again grip the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening, his body ramrod straight. Lyra copies David; she sits up and turns around. Out the back window, she sees a rusted blue car with a busted headlight barreling up the road behind them. Lyra gasps. It’s from the gas station, one of the junk heaps in the yard.
“They are coming after us,” David mutters.
He slams his foot onto the accelerator and with a screech of the engine, the jeep rockets forward, faster, faster, faster. Lyra grabs onto the roll bar, bracing herself.
“Why are they coming after us?” Lyra asks, her teeth gritted. Her stomach rolls over with fear.
“For no good purpose,” David mutters, his eyes roving between the road in front and the rear-view mirror. Lyra stares into the side mirror, her emerald eyes wide as the blue car sprints after them.
It’s catching up.
David pushes the jeep to its limit; its engine whines in protest and its frame rattles, jarring Lyra to her bones. David’s face is set in grim concentration even as his body trembles from their speed.
Then, without warning, David yells, “Hold tight!” He jams on the brakes, and yanks the steering wheel at the same time. The tires squeal on the hot pavement as the jeep whirls in a tight, 180-degree spin. David battles with the jeep’s momentum, desperate to keep all four wheels on the road. Lyra, ghost-white with fear, feels the car tip precariously in her direction; she’s mute with horror, frightened they will flip. David bangs his body against the driver’s side door to rebalance the weight and in another second, the wheels, all of them, thud firmly to the ground. In the terror of the turn, Lyra forgets about their chasers until she sees, on the other side of the road, heading the opposite direction, the busted blue car.
Better, but it doesn’t yet match what’s in my head, especially the climax of this scene. I also need to think about the length of the scene, and how much suspense to add in. I’ve learned that every word must serve the overall purpose of the story; if it doesn’t, no matter how shiny, how brilliant, how creative, it has to go. Like a director telling her actors to deliver their lines a different way, I may have to get David and Lyra to experiment a bit more.
Take 3 it is.