Casting Call Bloghop!

As you may or may not know, Carrie Butler of So You're a Writer and Melodie Wright of Forever Rewrighting (and me, sort of) are hosting a Casting Call Bloghop this week: 10/24/11 through 10/28/11.

Melodie put up a sample post here and also a book trailer here. Carrie started signing up people here.

So here's the deal:

1. Go to Carrie's blog and sign up.

2. Create a blog post introducing us to some of your characters (use photos, drawings, blurbs, excerpts, book trailers--whatever strikes your fancy--but be creative!)

3. Hop around to other peoples' casting calls and meet some new characters!

We are going to pick a winner at random at the end of the bloghop and that person will get one three chapter critique from all three of us.

So here's my Casting Call. I'm using characters from my first book, Finding Claire Fletcher.

Please note: I am not techno-savvy nor am I an artist. My four year old kicks my ass in drawing stick figures so instead of sketches or drawings I've chosen the actors I think would be best suited to play my characters if a movie were ever made of my book.

Meet Claire Fletcher. When she was fifteen years old she was abducted by a psychopath who held her captive for ten years. In the early years her abductor used physical force to keep her but over time, the chains that bound her to him became largely pscyhological. It doesn't help that every time she thinks of leaving or sneaks out to try to make contact with someone in the outside world, he threatens her family.

If I had to choose an actress to play Claire Fletcher in the movie I'd choose either Evangeline Lilly or Michelle Monaghan. Both sort of look like the way I imagine her in my head and both have a sort of vulnerability about them that I think would be perfect for Claire.

(Lilly's photo is from her Wikpedia page and Monaghan's is from the following site: http://www.michelle-monaghan.celebscentral.net)

Meet Connor Parks. He's a newly divorced Sacramento Police Detective who just botched a major arrest by shooting (and killing) a rape suspect. (He thought the suspect was firing at him.) He goes to a bar and meets a mysterious woman who says her name is Claire Fletcher. They spend the night in each other's arms (no hanky-panky) but Claire leaves before Connor wakes up. When he goes to the address she leaves for him, he meets her family and they tell him that Claire Fletcher was abducted ten years ago and she is presumed dead. Connor believes the woman he met is the real Claire Fletcher so with the help of private investigator, Mitch Farrell, Connor reopens Claire's case and sets about finding her once and for all!

If I had to pick an actor to play Connor in the movie, it would be either Chris Pine or Ryan Gosling. Again, neither one looks exactly as I picture Connor but there is a quality about them that makes me think of him.

(I got Pine's photo from his Wikpedia page and Gosling's photo from this website/article: http://quotes.whyfame.com/ryan-gosling-did-not-corrupt-britney-spears-or-christina-aguilera-718)

Although I realize this post is quite long, I'm going to post an excerpt from the book--a scene between Connor and Claire. You can stick around and read it or move on. It's up to you! For reference, Boggs and Stryker are Connor's co-workers and Mitch Farrell is the PI Connor is working with on Claire's cold case.

Excerpt
In his dream, Connor stood in the doorway from which he had shot the rapist nearly two weeks ago. Except this time, Boggs and Stryker stood smoking cigarettes outside the closet door, joking irreverently about each other’s wives, although in reality, only Boggs was married. Connor stood in a shooter’s stance. His Kevlar vest pulled heavily on his shoulders. His gun was aimed at the sliver of closet door between the heads of Boggs and Stryker. They didn’t seem to notice he was there or that he had a gun aimed in their direction.
Behind him, a gruff voice said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go.” It was Mitch Farrell. Connor wanted to turn and look at the older man but he could not. It was as if his body was frozen in place but he could feel every nerve ending, every small twitch of muscle. He yelled for Boggs and Stryker to clear the way but they did not acknowledge him. It was as if a massive block of soundproof glass separated them from Connor and Farrell.
Connor yelled and yelled. Beads of sweat formed along his hairline and popped, sending hot drops down his face. He felt an urgency he could not explain. Finally, he sighted and aimed between the heads of the other detectives. He fired off a shot. Boggs and Stryker disappeared. Mitch Farrell rushed into the room past Connor and opened the closet door.
A man whose face had been blown off fell to the floor at Farrell’s feet. But it wasn’t the rapist Connor had shot in the chest. It was Claire’s abductor. Even though Connor had never actually seen the man, in his dream he knew with certainty that the body before him was that of Claire Fletcher’s kidnapper.
Mitch looked at him, eyes burning intensely. “Where’s Claire?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Connor said.
“Where’s Claire?”
“I don’t know.”
The dream shifted and Connor was running through the halls of his house. They were elongated, stretching before him, the distance from one end to the other infinite. There were more doors than his little house could hold but he checked every one, yelling Claire’s name and getting no response. Every room was empty.
Then he heard sirens. He kept running, bursting from room to room. The sirens got louder and closer. As he moved through the endless maze of halls he realized the sound was not that of sirens but of a phone ringing. His dream self began searching the rooms for the ringing phone until his body began to wake and somewhere between sleep and waking, in the haze of unreality and confusion, his mind told him that he was dreaming. He had to wake up because the sound was his actual phone ringing.
Connor rolled to the side of the bed and thrashed in the general direction of the phone. He opened his eyes the moment his hand closed over the receiver to be greeted by the glowing green numbers of his alarm clock. It was 2:27 a.m.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice husky and raw with sleep.
There was nothing. Air.
“Parks,” he said.
Silence. Then, “Connor?”
“Yeah?”
More silence. Then his body jolted fully awake as a rush of adrenaline surged through him. His upper body sprang from the mattress. He sat on the edge of the bed. He wanted to say her name but he was afraid that if he did he would suddenly wake up to find that the phone call really was part of his dream. He felt dizzy.
“Claire,” he said.
Still no response but he could hear her breath moving in and out of her body in ragged gasps.
“Claire? Don’t hang up. God, whatever you do, do not hang up.”
“Connor,” she said again.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you that. I just called because I—“
“Claire, tell me where you are and I will come and get you. Just me. I’ll bring you in.”
“That’s not possible.”
Connor’s body pulsed, his blood rushing so furiously it sounded like a tsunami in his head. He wanted to swim through the phone wires and capture her. He had never felt so powerless in his life. She was there on the other end and he couldn’t get to her.
“Claire, I know what happened.”
There was a sharp intake of breath and her voice went up an octave. “No, no you don’t. Listen to me. What I did—coming to you—I may have put you in danger. I’m not supposed to see or speak with you again but I had to warn you.”
Connor gripped the receiver so hard his hand ached. “What are you talking about Claire? Are you in trouble? Let me bring you in.”
Her voice was throaty, as if she were about to cry and Connor felt a tightness in his chest. The woman he met was so self-possessed. Damaged but very poised and in control. He could not imagine her crying.
“I can’t,” she said. “Please. Just be careful. I have to go.”
“Claire, no,” he pleaded. He must have sounded as desperate as he felt because she did not hang up right away. He listened to her breath which had become even more irregular. Connor lowered his voice. “Just wait,” he said. “Don’t do this. I can help you.”
“No one can help me,” she said. “You don’t understand. Please, just be careful. You could be in a lot of danger.”
She didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, “I have to go.”
“No.” The word came out much more forcefully than he anticipated. She didn’t speak but she didn’t hang up either. Connor didn’t know what to say but he did not want to sever the connection. He knew what he was about to say would sound ridiculous but he forged ahead anyway. “I just want to see you again.”
He heard a muffled sound and her voice was barely a whisper. “I know. I want to see you too.”
Silence. He listened to her breathe carefully, taking in every little part of the sound. Finally, he said, “Just tell me what to do.”
“You can’t help me,” she said. “It’s too late for that.”
“You don’t know that,” he said. “Give me a chance. Please.”
“I wish I could.” She was definitely crying now and the sound of it made Connor sick to his stomach.
“Claire,” he said softly. “Tell me what to do.”
“Be careful,” she said. “Don’t come after me. I’ve already put you in danger. Just protect yourself.”
He waited for the click and dial tone but she stayed on for another moment. “Connor?”
“Yeah.”
“I—“ she stopped. He waited. He could hear her gulping air. “I’m sorry,” she said. Then she hung up.