""There's too little blood in the bitch! Too little to have a bath in!" it is a primal, Neanderthal shriek, reeking of fury, vomiting gases of insanity." This is how my first novel 'The Necessary Man' begins.
The story is about a Special Forces soldier who lives in a time when all the world is a giant reality show and the most popular show is about war. He has a (His) cold, devious boss who treats him like an action doll to be manipulated – including engineering for him to suffer the
death of his wife, "The hummingbird wings buzz of the pulse guns throbbed and blood and bone flew. And injured, dying, Grrurn's eyes caught Gavvy and even in the desolate loneliness of that moment, cold calculating evil streamed out and slammed into Gavuscer, Grrurn roared
in rage, "You pay for it traitor! You pay for it!""
Finally the soldier is pushed to vengeance and destroys the way his world functions in a massacre high up in the 'Death Zone' on Everest. As a punishment he is sent to a time when the world has become a single, universal consciousness – here, he is forced to confront all
his own demons.
The Necessary Man is speculative fiction and is complete at 399 pages and 104,549 words. As smooth and slippery as slate with the whiplash blood-spray of a slit throat, the novel uses a combination of verse, interviews and straight third person narrative to tell the story.
This isn't a hook and the writing is fat. Ditch all the stuff in red and compare to see how you need to whip this into shape. Don't worry about your hook; clean up your book. If the hook is fat, the book most likely is too.