Toby Farrier catches the bus

I thought it was time to review my progress with this story and have re-posted a little piece I wrote before the NaNoWriMo competition last year. I guess it sets up the thought process that goes into my writing before I build the character outlines and make up a storyboard of the chapters. Since I last posted it I have done some editing to keep it in line with the individuals as they have come to life in the novel.

I know all writers use different methods to keep focus and I have found this a great tool to use.

Merlene Fawdrey is the genius behind this and much of my story planning because as I getting to the end of KUNDELA she asked could I hear the characters calling 'are we there yet' and that  little question produced the spark that caused this planning piece.

If anyone is thinking about writing and the processes to follow Merlene has some great writing tips on her Blog: http://merlenefawdry.blogspot.com.au/ 

 TOBY FARRIER:        The riders on the Character Bus

I rolled on the broad rimmed steering wheel and dabbed the brake pedal. The hazard lights began flashing and the bus drifted to a stop at the kerb. The gasp of air expelling from the brakes startled my first passenger. I knew he would be the main character of this story, It was easy to see he had a cocky manner by the way he leaned against the post of the shelter, he was lean and wearing those blasted skinny leg jeans, a white muscle tee shirt and scruffy white sandshoes. Why kids have to have blonde tipped hair I’ll never know, but this kid had spiky black hair and tipped this way. I thought it was strange that he didn’t wear shades; instead his chosen eyewear was a pair of round gold rimmed and prescription with a light blue tint. I remembered seeing one of the Bee Gees wearing something similar years ago.

Time to get him on board.

‘G’day mate I’m Terry L Probert, spinner of yarns, and for this story I’m the bus driver. Are you okay with that?’ I said to this kid as he climbed aboard. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself and as we pick up the other characters in your story, you can introduce them to our readers. Do you think you can manage that?’

‘Year sure, I can it happen. My name’s Toby Farrier and I live with my Grandfather in Brunswick, we’ll pick him up at the next stop.’

I could see the grandfather at the stop just over the tramlines. I had seen him somewhere in mind over the years, possibly a composite memory of people who were helpful and kind to me when I was younger, I thought. The bus stopped and Toby stood up and beckoned the old man to come aboard.

‘Hi Pop, this bloke is Terry L Probert. He’s our bus driver for today and says he’s a spinner of yarns. Reckons he’s an author and we will all become part of his new novel and it’s about me.’

‘How are ya Terry. I’m Arthur, Arthur Farrier, young Toby here calls me Pop and I’ve lived here in the North Melbourne suburbs all my life.’ He said with a hint of Scottish accent. ‘What’s your story called?’

‘Pleased to meet you Arthur, welcome aboard.’ I thought he looked about my age and the spring in his step showed a young at heart attitude. ‘The story’s called, Toby Farrier and the P.I’s secret. I have aimed it at a young adult readership but I want it to cross the generation divide and hope everyone who picks it up enjoys TOBY.’

‘Bit of a long name isn’t it?’ Arthur said, and right there I could see he might be a bit of a tough nut to crack.

‘A long name or a name with a sub title it didn’t seem to hurt the Harry Potter books, it kind of gave them a back story for the title. I just thought it might work, what do you reckon Toby this one is all about you?’

‘What like you’re JK Rowling and I’m Harry Potter? You’ve got a few rocks in your head if you think you can do that, what happens to me? I’m no wizard.’

‘That’s true.’ I said feeling the sneer in his voice more than hearing it, this kid is tough. ‘But Toby you have a gift, you are inquisitive and determined. Sure you had troubles as a kid and gave your parents hell but you are about to embark on the greatest adventure of all time. Now let’s pick up some of your friends.’

The bus gathered speed and we trundled along Brunswick Road to turn left into Sydney Road. Our next passenger was a friend of Arthur’s. I squeezed between the cars lining the road. Touch parking the vehicles to the front and rear, as I often do making sure the step was close to the kerb.

‘Come on in Charlie.’ Arthur called. ‘We’re all gunna have a part in Toby’s story and this is the character bus. Now so as we make sure he gets it right, you’d better tell the driver, come author of the story a bit about yourself.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m not as young as I was just let me get in first, what’s the rush?’

I noticed Charlie was a bit older than Arthur, he was wearing an old pair of trousers, they were clean but worn and once a part of an expensive suit I supposed. The crisply pressed long sleeve shirt contrasted with his braces and they were the button on type, none of these new fangled clips for Charlie. His pants probably had a button up fly. Hair neat and tidy he had shaved this morning. Charlie would have been a smart dressed dude in his day.

‘Charlie Ramsey, the auctioneer’ I said.

‘How’d you know that? Besides I’m retired now.’

‘Read the name above the door and made an assumption.’ I said. ‘Besides it’s me writing this story so without me, you guys don’t exist.’

‘Hmmph, don’t bet on it driver we can be a rowdy and disruptive bunch. The kid’s pretty smart and he wants to write too, maybe you should concentrate on him.’

Charlie slid into the seat by Arthur and they nattered away for a while before we reached the next stop. I flicked the indicator to turn left, we had to go along Moreland Road and pick up a few of Toby’s friends. I rationalised my thinking, if Toby is the hero of this plot we need a band of friends, a nemesis of some sort and a storyline. I hoped by the end of this bus ride I would have just that.

‘I thought you’d be plugged into an iPod or fiddling with your phone or another gadget.’ I said to Toby who was jotting a few lines into a vinyl covered pocket book.

‘I gave Mum and Dad a fair bit of trouble before I got to come and live with Pop. I guess you could say he helped me to find myself. I learned that I didn’t need the latest gadgets to make or impress my friends. I stopped being a spoiled prat and it took a while but I began to like myself. I have a fair way to go before I earn my Stepmum’s trust and I’m prepared to wait until Dad can look me in the eye again. So you see I know I need to make an effort to deserve this part in your story. I want to write for a living and prove myself worthwhile, and that’s difficult to do in a small town where you have burnt all your bridges. All of my family’s friends have been abused, cheated, and let down by me at some time, it took a while for me to realise it but now I know what I’m sorry for.’

‘Pretty smart of you to turn your life around Toby, did the old fellas help you out a bit?’

‘Yep, Pop never raised his voice, but I knew not to cross him, and Mr Ramsey has been great. Some Friday nights we go around to his rooms and he gets on the old piano and while he plays we share pizza and have a bit of a sing along. Pop tells us stories from his past and as they drink beer my friends and I sing along to all the old songs. You know stuff from Elvis and the Beatles, old stuff like that.’

‘So you’re happy then?’

‘Yeah, now. I’m a pretty good place.’

‘School?’

‘Pop pulled a few strings and got me into Prince’s, they have a lot of good programmes and if you stop just up here where those blokes are, you can see the common grounds.’

I slowed the bus and saw a group of youths who could only be described as a gang. Five of them, homeboy pants, butt cleavage, dirty scuffed up shoes black singlets and unbuttoned flannel shirts. I wasn’t sure I should let them on the bus. Behind them a girl and three better dressed lads sat in the shade, I was sure these were Toby’s friends and waved for them to board the bus. I motioned for the others to wait, but they pushed ahead of Toby’s friends.

‘Who are these guys Toby, do you know them?’ I asked.

‘Driver, this is Slasher and his mates the Slater Street Gang. Are you sure want to keep then on the bus?’

‘We’re stayin’ Slasher said ‘If this prat is going to be in your story, then we’re gunna be in it too. So Farrier, don’t think you can keep this caper all to yourself. Got it, we will be up the back watchin’ every move you make and that’s a promise.’

I wasn’t too sure about these blokes and wondered if they had any place in Toby’s story, but they were already on the bus now, there wasn’t much I could do. I would give myself some time to get to know Slasher’s friends later, much later. Almost hidden and drowned out by the noise of the Slater Street Gang Toby’s friends stepped onto the bus.

‘So Toby, who have we here then?’

‘Terry, I’d like you to meet my friends from Prince’s.’ Toby said standing up and giving a hello hug to those boarding. ‘This is Jack Revesby, Nathan Roberts, Sophie Nguyen and Ben Scott we are all in the same classes at school. Sophie is a black belt in karate and she’s pretty smart too.’

I could see these friends were tight, there was something in the manner of their greeting, I could see they trusted each other. These kids would have Toby’s back as he met the challenges of the Hero’s Journey.

‘Come on driver,’ Slasher yelled from the back while his mates laughed. ‘Get a move on driver, where are we off to next?’

I wanted to give him a slap, and tell him that with one tap of the delete button he could be written out just as quick as he appeared, but every story needs a villain and in this one, Slasher will do just fine. This bloke is going to get under my skin as the story develops. I hope I can make him evil enough to do him justice.

The door shut and we pulled away, heading west along Melville Road. A few more corners and we would cross the road to Sydney Road again. The big wheels thumped as we crossed the tramlines on Royal Parade, as the traffic slowed near the cemetery, I stopped and opened the door. A chill swept through our conveyance. I looked in the mirror Slasher shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

‘What are we doin’ stopped ‘ere.’ he said. ‘Shut the door driver, it’s getting cold.’

‘We just picked up another rider Slasher,’ I said. ‘Everyone please welcome aboard the ghost of Shamus O’Toole. Mr O’Toole can’t communicate in the normal way, but believe me he will make your story interesting.’ I wanted to go on and tell them more about why O’Toole was with us but as the window behind Slasher had started to fog over. We both knew where Shamus had taken his seat.

‘People, I want you to look to your left, this grave yard is going to play a big part in this novel.’

‘Why boneyards don’t scare us do they Slash?’ Red hair freckles and a smart arse, I’ll call him Freckles in the story and he won’t be quite as tough without the gang to support him.

I turned into the traffic and following the right turn lane, turned into Lygon Street. During the ride around the city I pointed out many of the landmarks and places which in the next seventy five thousand words would become their playground.

With every character now informed about their personality, and having shown them the places within the story I asked them if they understood their roles. Having achieved their unquestioned agreement for co-operation, I told them that it is now time to bring on NaNoWriMo. Assured and confident that they had a part in my novel I thought they would relax, but when I looked in the mirror again I saw my characters beginning to squabble like petulant movie stars. Peeved with their attitude I am going to drop them off in front of the Collins Street bank they will be drawn to. An evil place, and the site of the first financial crash in the thirties, crash that began the great depression. This was a place for villains.

I took the bus back to the garage, parked it in the back corner and covered it up in readiness for use the next time I need to pick up some characters for another story.