INCONSEQUENTIAL SCENES

We writers think of them as character builders. They are anecdotes that tell the reader what kind of person or person you are writing about. The rule is, show rather than tell. If you want your reader to know something about a police detective, don’t write, for example, “He loved to play cruel practical jokes.” Write a scene in which he hires an extremely hard-bitten street walker to come into the station and ask if she can talk to her boyfriend Sergeant Wilcox for a minute. If he’s kind-hearted, write an amusing scene in which he stops traffic on a winding suburban road to keep a large snapping turtle from being run over. Snapping turtles crossing roads are almost invariably female. They are looking for a place to lay their eggs, or trying to get back to the pond after doing do. They do not want to be rescued, they want to be left alone. They cannot be herded and can bite through shoe leather. They can be pushed by a shovel – if you have one handy. Or, they can be picked up by the tail, if you are quick and careful. But then they must be carried at arm’s length or they will extend their sharp-beaked head on a surprisingly long neck and bite a surprisingly big chunk out of your thigh.

The thing is, these scenes, fun as they are to write, often don’t work toward solving the mystery. They are allowed only as far as they reveal more about the mind or character of the people in your novel. (In a short story, there is normally no time for these digressions.) I am beginning to think that the longer a series goes on, the more of this sort of thing there is, at least in my novels. I am at least as caught up in the personal lives of my “running” (repeating) characters as my readers, enough so that I’m no longer sure how much of this is character building and how much is gossip.

For example, my heroine goes three mornings a week to water aerobics – something I do myself. In Thai Die, I describe a visit based on something that actually happened. This is meant to reveal more about Betsy. Dave is never mentioned again. Is this scene necessary? Or do I just want to get it off my chest?

At six-thirty Betsy waded gratefully into breast-high warm water and began taking broad side steps, raising and lowering her arms in the water. The Courage Center’s Olympic-size pool had flat platforms that stepped down at wide intervals, rather than the sloping bottom of most pools. There were about nine other women there, most of them her age or older, and two men, all stepping sideways, warming up. Greetings were murmured as they passed one another. “Hi, Carol; hi, Rita; hi, Betsy; hi, Ruth; hi, Joe; hi, Ingrid; hi, Renee.” A collection of classic rock songs was playing, not too loud. Instructor Heidi stepped into the pool and called them to order. First head to toe stretches, then a slow jog, and pretty soon they were stepping lively, their heart rates at or close to where they needed to be.

Dave, whose occupation was serious and highly technical, had an amusing prelediction for gently nudging or splashing April and when April objected claiming loudly that she was picking on him. But April was home recovering from surgery. Betsy saw him look around, as if for another victim. He was a handsome man despite his balding head, with a strong build and a captivating North Carolina accent. He came to the pool because he was facing knee surgery and wanted to stretch and strengthen his leg muscles in preparation.

Dave’s eye settled on Irene, who had the most beautiful smile Betsy had ever seen. Her mouth was shapely and she had deep dimples, but it was more than that. When she smiled, somehow everyone around her felt warm and blessed. On the other hand, she was black and Dave was a southerner, so when Betsy saw him focus on her, she held her breath. Dave moved subtly out of his path to nudge her on the shoulder as they passed one another. It could have been an accident, they each murmured “Sorry,” and kept going.

But Irene evidently saw something in Betsy’s face when this happened. She flashed her smile at Betsy, and continued grape-vining placidly across the pool. On her way back, Irene deftly avoided another collision and flicked a few drops of water onto the back of Dave’s head as he went past. Dave shouted, “You saw that! You saw that! First April, now Irene! Can’t get a moment’s peace in this place!” Amidst the laughter Betsy was reminded that not all southerners were bigots – and that in her own concern for Irene, she was herself guilty of condescending racism.