Setting the Stage: Prologue
Reflecting on what I did with Community Day and considering what I might do with the prequel
Mea Culpa
I confess.
I stole an idea from A Gentleman in Moscow and another from A Few Good Men.
Let me explain.
God Gave Us Two Ears
Like I mentioned last time, I’ve been wrestling with whether to write the prequel to COMMUNITY DAY. I want to, but…sigh.
One way I can make progress on that question while also addressing some of the comments/questions I’ve gotten from readers about COMMUNITY DAY is to think out loud about what I did in that novel and what I might do with the prequel.1
I decided to listen to COMMUNITY DAY via the Substack app. I go for walks at night, and I listen to one chapter at a time. (I gotta tell you, it’s an odd experience to hear someone else’s voice reading aloud what I spent years writing and editing. It’s like my internal monologue is suddenly a stranger.)
But listening to it is also instructive. It’s gotten me thinking about pacing, subplots, character development, dialect, foreshadowing, big reveals, easter eggs, and so on. Listening to it allows my mind to wander in ways that reading it doesn’t.
So here’s how I’m thinking about COMMUNITY DAY’s prologue and, more broadly, what’s on my mind as I think about the start of a potential prequel…
Artistic and Stubborn
The prologue was the very last part of the novel that I wrote.
For the first 98% of the novel’s gestation, there was no prologue. In fact, I refused for several years to do what the prologue does.
For three years, drafts of COMMUNITY DAY didn’t reveal a) that a major crime took place, or b) that the narrator was incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital until the final third of the novel. I was committed to having that be the big a-ha moment 200 pages in.
But many readers’ feedback was that they were having a hard time truly getting into the story—really feeling it—early on without any indication of the tragedy at the park. They also said that it was tough to understand, much less like, the narrator without some upfront info to humanize him.
But I was being stubborn and artistic. I kept saying, “No.” Eventually, however, I realized that I could introduce the crime and the narrator’s plight early on and use other reveals to keep the momentum going.
Imply and Help the Reader Infer
But the big question was, “How do I vaguely reveal this key information?”
I had to be clear enough to get the hook into the reader. But I didn’t want to be so clear as to ruin the suspense.
My first thought was to just reuse the secondary narrative device already in the novel. The primary story is told by the narrator to his lawyer. The secondary device is the collection of emails from the doctor to the lawyer.
After playing around with this for months, I realized that it wouldn’t work. I had to introduce the lawyer in a different way. I had to explain her role in the case and hint at the unusual situation she was in. I also had to get the reader to understand that something terrible had happened, that she (the lawyer) and you (the reader) had to figure out what exactly occurred, and that those events were part of a more complex story.
Good Writers Borrow, Great Writers Steal
Then I remembered the prologue of A Gentleman in Moscow.
It’s very clever writing. It does a great job of telling the reader a great deal without being expository—it’s natural.
The prologue is primarily the short transcript of the short trial of the main character that takes place before the novel’s action. Through very little text, we indirectly learn about the protagonist’s “crime,” his sentence, his nature, the setting, the stakes, and much more.
I stole repurposed this approach.
I decided to have my prologue be an email from the lawyer’s boss—the head of the public defender’s office. I tried to pack as much into a few lines as possible…without it seeming like I was trying to pack a lot into a few lines. I’ve pasted the full prologue below so you can see for yourself.
For instance:
I wanted to indicate that the lawyer was junior and ambitious. Hence the “Lizzy,” “You wanted more opportunities,” “Welcome to the big league,” the directives from the boss, etc.
I wanted to show the urgency of the case. Hence the assignment over the holidays.
I wanted to imply the crime and location without specifics.
I wanted to suggest that the lawyer had an unusual and difficult task. Hence the “You need to get him to explain” and the “Just make it happen.”
I wanted to introduce the doctor and imply her importance. Hence the “you need to contact Jennifer Davis yesterday.”
I wanted to imply that the stakes here are BIG. Under the boss’s title is “Fiat justitia ruat caelum”: Let justice be done, though the heavens fall.
But Why Her?
But there was one last thing I wanted to suggest. Or at least allude to.
Why in God’s name would the head of the Office of the Public Defender assign such a huge case to a very, very junior lawyer??
I remembered that there’s a version of this idea in A Few Good Men. Tom Cruise’s character (Lt. Kaffee) is a cocky, young attorney famous for getting plea agreements; that is, his cases never go to trial.
So why was he given the explosive case with the “code red”?
Precisely because his cases never go to trial. Powerful people don’t want the code-red case to make it to trial.
So why is “Lizzy” given this case? The email from her boss implies an answer:
“Now listen. Everyone wants this done fast. Everyone.”
As the story progresses, the reader comes to understand who the narrator is, who he knows, why people may want this thing handled quietly and fast…
Planning the Prequel’s Prologue
At this point, I look at the prologue as essential to COMMUNITY DAY. I don’t know how 50+ drafts existed without it.
And it helps me think about how the prequel might start.
I generally know what I want the opening scene to be. I know the two characters who will be in it. I know where it will be set. I know what they’ll be doing. I have a sense of what they’ll say. And not say. I know how they’ll part. I don’t know where one of them will go, but I know what will happen to the other. I know that this will kick off the plot.
But my experience with COMMUNITY DAY’s prologue makes me wonder if my imagined opening scene will accomplish enough.
Will the reader be able to appreciate why these two characters are important and connected? Will the reader get why the bridge and its view are important? Will the reader understand why the town’s landscape is key? Will the reader be convinced that the central event in the opening chapter is enough to carry the story?
Here’s the Prologue to COMMUNITY DAY.
PROLOGUE
From: Executive Office [INTERNAL]
Date: December 30, 2020 at 2:12 PM
Subject: Assignment
To: Elizabeth Jones [INTERNAL]
Lizzy: You wanted more opportunities. Be careful what you wish for.
I’m assigning you to the guy from the mass casualty event at the neighborhood park. Get on it. Initial folders are in the front office. You need to get him to explain. Just make it happen.
Also, you need to contact Jennifer Davis yesterday. Her info is on top with the memo from the judge.
Now listen. Everyone wants this done fast. Everyone. Figure out what in God’s name happened. Serve your client. Roll credits.
Welcome to the big league.
-M
Office of the State Public Defender
Fiat justitia ruat caelum
The comments and questions I get most often are along the lines of “Why did you include that?” or “Why did the narrator change the way he talks there?” or “How did you decide to add that section?” That is, people are interested in how the novel was put together and why.