The Weekly Shriek -- Explosions

I once wrote a thriller about an aging serial killer who lured his prey through the internet -- and an identity thief who phished for victims online. They find each other -- and chaos ensues. I finished it up on a dark and stormy night -- and asked a variety of friends to read it and give me their opinions.

"You need to punch up the ending," my friend Bobby Blades said.

"How so?"

"You spent two hundred pages making me hate this guy. I want to see him get what's coming to him."

"She runs over him with a Subaru."

"Too easy. I want him to suffer."

"Hmm."

Bobby is a professional wrestler turned horror writer. Drama and violence are intertwined in his world. However, I accepted his point and added a few well-placed kicks and punches to my characters' final interaction.

"You need a chase scene," my friend Jim told me.

"She kicks him in the face, runs back to her vehicle and then runs over him in the Sears' parking lot."

"Not exciting enough. They need to speed through the town with lights flashing and sirens wailing."

"Hmm."

Jim is a firefighter turned adventure writer. Action is in his blood. However, I accepted his critique and had my antagonist roar through Sewickley in a bus-sized recreational vehicle with my protagonist in her souped-up Subaru in close pursuit. That way I could have the local cops chase them until everyone hits I79 where the Pennsylvania State Police could jump into the fray before passing the lead over to the West Virginia Troopers at Wheeling. Then, as the heroine and villain race over the bridge into Ohio heading for the Sears parking lot in Belmont, one of the chasers can crash into the guard rail, which brings out paramedics and the like. Then, everyone can stop at Denny's for a Grand Slam and then go play a few slots before heading back to Pittsburgh -- or where ever else they came from. It was a thin plot device, I grant you -- but it did have flashing lights and sirens.

"You need motor cycles," my friend Ambrose informed me.

"I have them in bus-sized recreational vehicles, luxury sedans, fire engines, ambulances and cop cars."

"Really bad bad guys ride Harleys."

Ambrose is a biker turned poet. Leather and chrome makes his heart beat faster. However, I accepted his suggestion and added the Biker Twins from Hell to my list of exotic characters chasing the bad guy toward his demise at Sears.

"There's no pizzazz," my husband Johnny told me.

"The identity thief and a collection of odd characters in every type of wheeled vehicle known to man chase the serial killer across two states. Once they lose everyone else, she confronts him in a Sears parking lot, punches his lights out -- and runs over him with her SUV."

"Borrrrring. Needs sparks."

"Hmm."

Johnny is an electrical engineer turned electrical engineer. He loves lightning and shiny objects. However, I realized that he had a point and added a Taser to the final confrontation.

"He's evil," my friend Helen told me.

"Yes?" I folded my arms over my chest and waited.

"Well, you know -- the old good versus evil thing."

"Yes?"

"Evil doesn't go down that easily."

"Hmm."

Helen is Catholic turned philosopher -- and evil is an important concept for her. However, I accepted her point and had the heroine finish off the exhausted, smacked, stunned, squashed villain with a baseball bat.

"Is that all?" my son Nate asked.

Nate is -- well, Nate.

I sighed. "What more do you want?"

"Explosions."

"Hmm."

"Big explosions."

"Yes, Nate."

"You know -- like that movie "Speed?"

"Uh huh."

"They even blew a shark to smithereens in 'Jaws.'"

"Okay."

"Nitro."

"Will do."

"Plastics."

"You got it."

"TNT."

I paused with my fingers over the keyboard. It seemed like a waste of a big boom to blow up one measly serial killer in an RV in the Sears parking lot in Belmont, Ohio.

"What the heck are you doing," Johnny asked a couple hours later.

"Writing, why?"

"The sound of typing is deafening."

"I'm blowing up the serial killer and the RV and the cops and the identity thief and the Subaru and the fire engines and ambulances and the motorcycles and the ..."

"Oh," he said. "You've been talking to Nate?"