Gather Crosby had been standing at attention for nearly twenty minutes. He had been asked to attend a meeting in the Council chambers; an invitation most officers would never receive. He hoped it was to receive some form of commendation, but one never knew for sure.

Of the 645 members of the Council only five were present. The man seated in the middle read from a document. “Mr. Crosby, in recognition of meritorious service and conduct befitting an officer of the Executive Department, and for service exceeding the standards set by your superiors; it is the decision of the council that you be offered the position of Sacerdos.”

They had offered him priesthood? His entire being was flooded with excitement, pride, fear, and joy. He could hardly believe

Gather knew the moment his cover had been blown. He had seen it in the other man’s eyes, the glint of recognition, and the expression of understanding. The man was not alone; the other four goons all reached for their guns. In the man’s hand appeared the old-fashioned projectile weapon; a 357 magnum. Gather’s ‘inruptio’ was still in his ankle holster. Seated in the chair, he was in no position to go for it. The pistol came up to point directly at Gather’s forehead; that’s when all hell broke loose.

thanks for the input, obviously I am a novice and need all the help I can get. fortunately I am also compulsive about reaching goals and I have set a goal to get published so bring it on, I am ready to learn.

Is this the kind of thing you are talking about?

Years ago, Graduate Gather Crosby thought being a detective would be like the popular entertainment vids. No one told him the “bad guys” always congregated in some dark, dirty, abandoned husk of a building, several layers below respectable civilization. Tonight Detective Gather Crosby found himself in one of those buildings, in the company of four of those “bad guys.” His partner, Warren, was supposed to be with these goons, but he had not shown. It had taken him three months to gain the trust of these men; tonight he would find who their contact in the underground was.

Apparently none of the goons knew exactly when the man would show, so the game was seven card stud. Gather had placed his back towards an old bank vault that had not been used in a

yeh it needs work but is this more what you were thinking Survivor?

[This message has been edited by BruceWayne1 (edited December 27, 2006).]

Detective Gather Crosby sat in an abandoned building, many layers below civilization, pretending to be the very thing he hated most; a nonconformist. With a sigh of exasperation, he folded yet another winning hand. Two pair, queens and fours, would have been good enough to take down the small pot of credit chips in the middle of the table. He found that the more he lost the more welcome he was in this group. So he slid his cards under the pile and leaned back in the chair.

Not many years ago, initiate Gather Crosby thought being a detective would be like the popular entertainment videos; blaster fights, fast cars, and sexy women. He had imagined days filled putting enemies of the state in detention, and nights of romance with awe-struck young ladies. No one told him his

thanks again.

[This message has been edited by BruceWayne1 (edited December 29, 2006).]

I mean, first off, he seems outrageously square. Like, a parody of squareness imagined from the outside. I don't for a moment believe that you have the slightest sympathy for him, and thus I'm not encouraged to take him seriously as anything other than a strawman that you've created to take abuse.

Like how you say that he's pretending to be what he hates most...a nonconformist. Okay, but don't you see the irony? He's doing this in order to blend into the group...to conform. He doesn't hate their nonconformity, he hates conforming to their standard. It is their standards he hates, not some completely relative quality like "conformity" or lack of same.

Then you have him deliberately folding winning hands in order to lose at cards. This is just dumb. The whole point of losing at cards is to look like you're doing your best to win, but just aren't good at it. So you overplay a good hand, making everyone else fold early so that your winnings are small. Then you lose the next hand, perhaps trying a weak bluff. Simply folding is bad because you don't get remembered as losing all that much. It's actually better to win a hand but leave everyone else feeling like they didn't lose much, because mentally they count the potential loss they avoided as a win.

And then you get into the shallow motivation for having become a detective in the first place. Which, I notice, utterly contradicts the idea that he's simply square, or betrays an utter lack of understanding of what being square means, which is more probable.

i'll say that more clearly. Do me a favor and try re-reading it with the words "anti-government rebel" or some such thing in there (instead of non-conformist)and see what it sounds like to you.

as to playing cards... you spent 10 lines saying what you did, and i understand, but how could i possibly fit all that in the first 13? I'll work on it. maybe trying to cram too much into the beginning?

as to his "motivation", again I didn't see that I was addressing his motivation since I know he had no choice in his career path. But how could you know that in this little clip. The very next lines go on to tell how much he loves being a detective despite not getting the girls etc.

again it is really great to get your POV.

Don't write something patently unrealistic or silly just because it's easier than writing what you really mean. Like folding a winning hand, or "nonconformist". The thing is, using "nonconformist" to mean "anti-government rebel" tells me a lot about what you, the author, think it takes to be considered an anti-government rebel in this time and by this character. If you don't mean to say that about your character, then don't. If you do mean to say that about him, then I don't like him and I don't think that you like him either.

Same with folding a winning hand. It's easier than saying that he discarded the two, or perhaps just quirked a little grin to let everyone know he had a good hand, though not much. More importantly, it tells us that this character has made no effort to learn how to lose at cards without looking like he's doing it on purpose. Given that he's supposed to be dealing with criminals of some sort, gaining the trust of guys who have things to hide from men like him, this makes him look really dumb.

To clarify what I mean (and taking some liberty because I am not familiar with your story):

Gather sat in an abandoned building among the dissidents. He matched their smiles and joined their laughter, but always the image of his sister's body--ripped to pieces by one of their cowardly bomb attacks at a neighborhood market--hovered at the edge of his thoughts, threatening to crack his mask. He'd much rather disembowel them one at a time than throw card games to curry their favor, but he could bide his time, at least long enough to complete this assignment. Someday soon, though, he'd be free of restraint....

That's not a great example, a bit heavy-handed, but it gives a reason he hates the dissidents that most readers would sympathize with, and thereby be willing to "throw in" with your character for the story. I really like the name, by the way. Good luck with it.