The Slow Train to Crazy

Imagine that you've returned to your childhood, and you're seven years old, and your godmother just called and told you that she's sent a DVD of your favorite movie to you in the mail. Amazon doesn't exist yet. You have to wait 2-3 weeks for UPS to knock on your front door. Eternity. That afternoon you color and play outside. You're smart enough to know it won't be waiting on the Welcome mat when you go in for dinner. The next day while the school nurse is swabbing a cotton ball over your skinned knee, you tell her all about the DVD, your favorite characters, which of them would win in a fight, everything else important, which is everything. Your brother points out that the package didn't arrive. You tell him that it's only been two days, silly. By the weekend, you've spent longer than you should sitting on the front step, looking for the mailman. By midweek, you've yelled at your dad for teasing you and been sent to your room, where you draw your favorite character fighting your dad. You feel bad about that. When the package isn't there after two weeks you tell your little sister that Santa Claus isn't real, just to blow off some steam, and end up grounded. "I don't know what's the matter with you," Mom says.When writing, keep your reader feeling like this kid. Promise them a payoff, and then withhold it. Bret Anthony Johnston keeps it simple: "When your reader wants something, do not give it to them."Today the exercise is to put your readers on the slow train to crazy.***His lawyer had called that morning, and told Art that he couldn't reschedule the hearing, no, not again, and that he had to appear in the New York City Family Court the next day, or forego his right to contest his ex-wife's full-custody claim in person."I'm in England, Rex.""And I'm in Los Angeles. And yet I'll be at the hearing tomorrow. The court doesn't do much for fathers who don't show up in a custody case. Makes it pretty easy to decide, in their view."Art sighed."What did you tell me when I took this case? 'Nothing is more important than family,' you said. 'I would do anything for my kids,' you said."Art tapped a finger agains the glass of his watch. Timepiece, the man at the store had called it, with a slight French accent, that Art thought might be an affectation. He had twenty four hours to close the deal, find a flight, and practice looking fatherly."I'll be there."He hung up.He hadn't seen Matt or Renee in person for a month. They had stayed with their mother, and their mother had kept them from him. She had let him Skype in to see them open their Christmas presents two weeks ago, but he had spent the holidays alone. Their mother was an adulteress and a narcissist. He wouldn't let his children - his children - stay with a woman like that.There was one problem, and that problem's name was Marshall Henderson.A man of many titles (CEO, Forbes's Wealthiest Man in Britain, Bowl London's 300 Club), Marshall Henderson was a man of few interests (winning, bowling, winning, accumulating wealth, winning). He would not let Art leave London without a brief on how his company could avoid the "punitive" taxes of the British government and stay "remunerative." Henderson's words.A knock at the door announced his room service. "Breakfast," came the call. The meal was like the hotel room: beautiful presentation, poor substance.When Art's car dropped him off in front of "The Gherkin," the skyscraper that rose up from the London skyline like a glass bullet, he had a plan in place. He would play on Henderson's need for victory. He would make Henderson understand that he needed the time."You're late.""We agreed on nine --""You know the rule. If I'm here before you are.""Well then let's get to it."Art introduced the tax loopholes he intended to discuss, and then turned the presentation over to his junior, an Asian-American in his early twenties. The kid was a star. Art's focus wandered to the sound his wife's wedding ring had made when it dented the door of his car. She had thrown it in his general direction. Renee had seen."Art."Henderson was looking at him."You angry about something?""It's just..."His mind frantically searched for something to say."Not to worry - I don't like taxes either."Henderson's aide chuckled at the quip as he took notes. Art did not.Henderson prodded and poked at the model that the young man - Wilson - was presenting. At one point he skipped a few pages ahead."So after all of this, you'll only save us a quarter-million dollars?" Henderson asked.Wilson blinked behind the frames of his glasses."This plan catches all the known loopholes.""I don't want the known loopholes. I want the loopholes nobody knows about. I want the competitive edge. That's why I brought you in. I don't care about last year's models and last year's definition of success. You need to come up with better than this."He turned his little eyes toward Art."I trust we won't have a problem here. I expect a report at seven.""Tonight?" Art asked."Tonight."Henderson left the room as his aide scrambled to pick up everything and still beat his boss to the exit so he could hold the door."Take lunch," Art said. Wilson nodded. "Bring me something, and coffee to drink. I'm going to call New York."***This is developing into a longer short story, that I will take offline. But as you can see, one thing after another will get in Art's way and, I hope, the reader will long for Art to return home to his court hearing.***This is what I wrote before I began:Art Hasland: a star in the office; he's a financier who flies from New York to London every Monday and back every Thursday night; he's the youngest principal at Stern Fisher; his wife divorced him; he was furious, but has not given it much thought beyond his anger; they have two children, whom he prioritizes in word, but not in action; Matt is seven and thinks his father is a god; Renee is thirteen and can see that her father does not pay her and her brother the attention they deserve; Art is on the top of list of names to become a partner, due to a recently vacated position; he wants - he tells himself, "more than anything" - to win partial custody of his children. He likes Canali ties. He has a personal shopper, a fact that he keeps to himself. He gets his beard threaded biweekly. For Christmas he gave his daughter a pair of haute-couture Dolce et Gabbana heels, but Skyped in to see her open the box.What gets in Art's way?1) Marshall Henderson, the CEO of Barclays, is on the warpath. Profits have dipped since Brexit. The government is restricting his industry. He wants a strategy to keep his company "remunerative" as he puts it.2) An attractive reporter wants to interview Art about his inclusion in Forbes' 40 under 40.3) He runs into his firm's former partner  and can't get away.***Getting Started: 3Character: 3Point of View and Tone: 3Plot and Narrative: 3Dialogue and Voice: 2Descriptive Language and Setting: 2Revision: 2Overall: 2*Level 2*