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You try delivering a rat to the presenter of TV's biggest news program.
(The first two sentences were too complicated, too much information was being given. They needed to be simpler to
have more impact. Also, Tess needed to be the main focus, not a stranger, so I shortened things, and introduced Amanda Brinkley in sentence three.)
I took a deep breath, marched across half a hectare of chrome and carpet and placed the brightly wrapped box right in the
middle of the receptionist's desk.
(We hear her voice, but we also need a visual picture of where Tess is and what she is doing. This
'shows' her to the reader right away.)
'This is a present for Amanda Brinkley,' I told her. Amanda Brinkley, the anchorwoman of the show, claimed to be
an avid champion of animal rights. Well, rats were animals weren't they? Just as much as rare Bengal tigers and pandas that looked oh-so perfect on TV.
(Now I can introduce Amanda Brinkley. And the bit about the rare Bengal tigers, shows Tess and her slightly
cynical attitude to life.)
The only problem was getting the rat past the receptionists, secretaries and about twenty other people who guarded the
portals of the powerful.
(I put this in to reveal why Tess was hiding the rat in a box. It wasn't clear before.)
'And who are you dear?' The receptionist was wary.
(My editor suggested that the receptionist wouldn't immediately stick her eye to the box, she'd be more
wary. True. So I inserted this section.)
'I'm a friend of Amanda's daughter,' I told her, trying to sound as though I hung out at their place every
second day. That morning I'd got up almost before the birds to put a double dose of 'Russet Red' through my hair and cake on enough make-up to qualify as a Miss World candidate. Add
knee-high boots and a nose ring made from an old clip-on earring and I had to look at least nineteen. I hoped.
(Again, this gives us more explanation of what Tess is doing. Plus it gives us a visual impression of her.
Often writers have a character pass by a mirror and 'straighten their curly fair hair and check their blue eyes' to show readers what the person looks like. I don't use a lot of
description or narration so my challenge is always to make physical descriptions of characters sound natural.)
'I see.' She relaxed about one millimetre.
'It's Amanda's birthday next week.'
'Oh? I didn't know that.'
Two weeks ago, I hadn't known that either. But the Who's Who in our local library listed all the important stuff like that: date of birth, university degrees, number of times married, dates of children's birth, even their names. According to my maths, Amanda Brinkley's birthday was exactly six days from now. Her daughter – named Tania – was just a few years older than me.
(This quick backfill shows more of the plot and Tess' clever research skills – and her audacity too!)
'Tania told me.' I let the name drop carelessly.
From inside the green and gold box, a small scuffling sound came. The receptionist suddenly smiled.
(The oh so casual mention of Tania's name plus the sound of a cute animal scuffling around, overcomes the last of
the reception's reluctance.)
'Oh, is it a kitten? How lovely.' She leant closer to the largest air hole and looked in.
A small pink eye peered back. A few whiskers twitched in the air.
'Oh …' She drew back a little. 'It's er … sweet.' Encouraged, the rat poked the rest of
its head through the hole. White fur gleamed in the lights and a bright tartan ribbon showed around its neck. I'm not sure if rats could smile, but this one gave a pretty good imitation.
(We need to get to know the rat now, see how cute it really is. This makes the prospect of uni students cutting
it open even more horrible.)
Tentatively the woman put a finger to the hole. The white rat sniffed it and gave the very tip of her nail a delicate
nibble. It had been born and raised in the back rooms of a biology lab. It liked humans. It didn't know that in a few weeks' time those same humans were planning kill it and stake it out on a
dissecting board so that some ignorant first-year university student could hack it open and prod around in its insides. This rat was safe now. But back at the university five hundred of its friends,
family and fellow rodents were trapped in their cages with the date of their death already set. The information was all there, hidden inside a birthday card. Amanda Brinkley was known to take risks
with her stories — and rats sure were a risk. But if this one could score a segment on her show then five hundred other rats might have a chance to see sunlight for once in their life —
and live.
(In the first draft, I had left it way too late in the chapter explain what Tess and the Green Guerrillas are
doing. The reader would have got frustrated. So I put this in here.)
'You will make sure Ms Brinkley gets it right away?' I asked. The nose ring was beginning to slip, making me want
to sneeze. Time to get out fast.
(I liked the nose ring bit. That just sort of came to me. So in it went. Plus it gives a bit of
urgency to Tess having to get out of there.)
'Of course. But are you sure this is the right …?' She looked up at me, not wanting to offend. 'You do
know don't you … that this is a … er … rat?'
But I was already heading for the door. There were four other rats needing homes yet.
'We think of it more as a mouse,' I said to her, 'with just a bit of a weight problem.'
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