
In my new thriller, Ask Not!, my main character, Hank Larson, traverses the country on a mission to absolve his brother of murder charges. Luckily, he’s an airline pilot so he can hop flights like trolley cars in San Francisco, as long as he’s in uniform.
My sister-in-law says, “There’s something about a man in uniform.” In that way that tells you it brings out ‘har-moans’ that lie dormant except when a good chick-lit novel or steamy romance flick comes her way.
As an author, I am blessed to have a Mastermind Group. Professionals and experts who are knowledgeable about, the various professions, ideas, and practices the characters in my novels encounter. They read my raw manuscripts for accuracy as I sketch my characters and plots outside the lines of the many lives that I have never lived but write about with authority. They reign in my estimations of those lives into a focused realism that passes muster with other readers of that ilk. You never want to alienate a plumber by using a spanner wrench on the wrong pipe joint, or a nuclear physicist by introducing the wrong isotope into an atomic cocktail. (I actually do have a nuclear physicist and a master plumber in my Mastermind Group along with a cop, a politician, a mobster (ret.), judges, psychologists, engineers, locomotive engineers, secret service agents, etc.)
There is another group of about ten, just as precious to me who are critical readers who approach the book in general, they are known collectively as ‘Beta-Readers.’ Beta is a term brought out by the industrial release of a trial product. These intrepid souls slog through my unpolished work pointing out stumbles, knots, inconsistencies, and lots of other nasty artifacts that pollute the work of one mind writing one novel. But I never got a note like this.
“There’s a lot of sex in this bookl.”
I don’t think so. But again, I wrote it. However, now that he mentioned it, maybe there is a lot of guiltless, no-consequence (good or bad) casual sex in the book. See: Man in uniform.
For example: Deep in the heart of Texas, Hank meets Carla, a bartender who is a free spirit. She has a very healthy attitude about men, life, and sex. Their brief encounter is easy, comfortable, and satisfying, surprisingly free from guilt or self-conscious emotions. For Hank, it’s the kind of experience that he’s sure would have most people picking out sofas and deciding whose rent is cheaper. Instead of going down the path of longevity and keeping a great thing like this going, Carla celebrates her freedom and her life as it is. She’s not looking for a change. Hank isn’t either, but he’s never experienced the same sentiment coming at him after such wonderful moments together. Oh, and in the morning, he sees police uniforms hanging in her open closet. Turns out she’s a cop during the day.
This puts him in a frame of mind that is perfect for when he meets, Chris DeMarco, another woman in uniform. They immediately… oh wait…I think I see what he meant.
Apparently I have now created a new class of beta readers. The master-beta reader. A new expertise that I guess could come in handy in any author’s work.










