Okay, okay, I’ve changed the title to my second book, again. Sorry, I’m not even sure what the final title will be. I’ve been checking Amazon and KDP Rocket to find out if someone else already has my title. Apparently I’ve got all the same Ideas as everyone else…I’m just a step behind. Rats!
Here it is: (for now), the title will be Driving Traffick. I feel like I have to publish fast before somebody beats me to it. Maybe I need to keep this quiet…Shhhh!
As promised, here is the inside scoop. This is a little writing exercise that helped me to form my characters and actually helped to direct the story. I have the character write me a letter (or else I do an interview with them on paper). It gets me in the character’s head, lets me know where they are coming from, why they do what they do. It doesn’t all end up in the story, but it gives me the background.
This is not an original idea, I got it from one of the zillion books on writing I’ve read. I wish I could tell you which one, I’d love to give the author credit, but I have no idea…
This is about Arnold, the main bad guy in Driving Traffick. (by the way it is a first draft, warts and all.) Warning: the N word is in there…I hate it, but this is my bad guy speaking, and he would use it. It helps me to hate him even more.
Life sucks. But I’m going to get everything I deserve, they owe it to me! Who is “they”? Everybody! I don’t care what it takes to get what I want, and I want it all.
I’ve been kicked around enough, now it’s my turn to do the kicking. I had to spend my childhood riding around with my Dad in a truck, being his nigger, while he stayed warm and dry in the truck laughing while I struggled hauling his tarps, and chaining his tires. I froze my fingers, and strained my back when I should have been playing football with my buddies from school. I would have been good, maybe even pro by now. But that won’t ever happen now that I’m all busted up thanks to trucking with my lazy-ass Dad.
It never should have happened. We shouldn’t have been on Loveland pass in a snowstorm, we shouldn’t have been running two sets of logs, and I shouldn’t have been driving at all. Not that anybody will ever know that I was driving. Hell, I was only 17 and I barley had my driver’s license much less a CDL.. I should have been in school like my pansy-ass brother, but my Dad wanted to make the big bucks hauling heavy equipment over the mountains. He told ‘em he could get it there overnight even though it was a 25 hour haul.
Dad was tired when we started, he kept popping some kind of pills to stay awake, but then they quit working and he got sleepy, almost had us over the edge a couple of times. Finally made me drive, I’ve driven plenty before, but not with a big equipment load, not in the Rocky Mountains at night in a blizzard. I never got paid for nothing, he kept it all. I just did it ‘cause I knew he would kick the crap out of me if I didn’t. He got what he had coming, wrecked my life, and ended his.
I was screaming for him to wake up and help me, but he wouldn’t wake up, and the trailer started sliding and I couldn’t see where the road was. I just let it go, and we rolled over the cliff. Hell that big crane is probably still laying twisted up at the bottom of that gully.
I had a hell of a time dragging the old man’s body over so it looked like he was driving, I was pretty beat up and in a lot of pain. Funny thing, he never made a sound when we went over, I think he may have already been dead from all the stuff he was taking. Nobody will ever know.
I ain’t never gonna work like that again, I got a way to make a fortune off of trucking and I won’t have to do much of nothin’. I got some ladies to earn me some big bucks, and I got a inside scoop on moving some “Hot loads,” really hot, radioactive waste. It’s not legal to move, but the company needs to get rid of it and they will pay me half a million bucks for each haul. I can’t drive with my bum leg, but that’s what I got my kid brother for. Besides, it’s better for him to get caught than me. What do I care? Just dump the stuff far away from where I am.
I’ll get my brother, Bruce to steal the equipment for the haul, and make him haul that shit. Hell I don’t want to get near it, it’ll kill ya. I’ll just stay with my ladies, bringing them to the truck stops, while I provide a much needed service for the drivers. I’ll be raking in the cash, while relaxing in my super decked out Kenworth.
It cost all of my inheritance and my brother’s too to get that truck set up just like I want it. Why should he get anything? I was the one that had to do all the work, while he stayed with Mom and went to school. He thinks he invested in the business, but he won’t ever see any of that money again. It’s mine, I deserve it all.
Supertruck, that’s what I call her. It’s a classic W9 Kenworth, the top of the line. I put in all the luxury I could. That thing could pull the state of California up over the rocky mountains, but it will never pull anything but the special trailer I had built. It’s a brothel on wheels, got a place for my ladies to hide out until it’s time to send them out to work in the parking lots. When their work is done, I lock ‘em back up in there until I need them again.
It didn’t even take me long to gather up the girls I needed for my business, they are everywhere. Just talk sweet to them little girls and buy them a couple of things and you own ‘em. I just take the trinkets away from them once I got them tattooed and working. I got to protect my property ya know, so I put my mark on ‘em.