Month: July 2026

An excerpt from “Echoes from the Past”

Available on Amazon Kindle here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

…

With my attention elsewhere, I walked into a man who was hurrying in the opposite direction.  He was a big man with a scar running down the left side of his face from the eye socket to the mouth, and he was wearing a black shirt with a red tie.

That was all I remembered as my heart almost stopped.

He apologised as he stepped to one side, the same way I stepped, as I also muttered an apology.

I kept my eyes down.  He was not the sort of man I wanted to recognise later in a lineup.  I stepped to the other side, and so did he.  It was one of those situations.  Finally getting out of sync, he kept going in his direction, and I went towards the bus, which was now pulling away from the curb.

Getting my breath back, I just stood riveted to the spot watching it join the traffic.  I looked back over my shoulder, but the man I’d run into had gone.  I shrugged and looked at my watch.  It would be a few minutes before the next bus arrived.

Wait, or walk?  I could also go by subway, but it was a long walk to the station.  What the hell, I needed the exercise.

At the first intersection, the ‘Walk’ sign had just flashed to ‘Don’t Walk’.  I thought I’d save a few minutes by not waiting for the next green light.  As I stepped onto the road, I heard the screeching of tyres.

A yellow car stopped inches from me.

It was a high-powered sports car, perhaps a Lamborghini.  I knew what they looked like because Marcus Bartleby owned one, as did every other junior executive in the city with a rich father.

Everyone stopped to look at me, then the car.  It was that sort of car.  I could see the driver through the windscreen shaking his fist, and I could see he was yelling too, but I couldn’t hear him.  I stepped back onto the sidewalk, and he drove on.  The moment had passed, and everyone went back to their business.

My heart rate hadn’t come down from the last encounter.   Now it was approaching cardiac arrest, so I took a few minutes and several sets of lights to regain composure.

At the next intersection, I waited for the green light, and then a few seconds more, just to be sure.  I was no longer in a hurry.

Next, I heard what sounded like a gunshot.  A few people looked around, worried expressions on their faces, but when it happened again, I saw it was an old car backfiring.  I also saw another yellow car, much the same as the one before, stopped on the side of the road.  I thought nothing of it, other than it was the second yellow car I’d seen.

At the next intersection, I realised I was subconsciously heading towards Harry’s new bar.   It was somewhere on 6th Avenue, so I continued walking in what I thought was the right direction.

I don’t know why I looked behind me at the next intersection, but I did.  There was another yellow car on the side of the road, not far from me.  It, too, looked the same as the original Lamborghini, and I was starting to think it was not a coincidence.

Moments after crossing the road, I heard the roar of a sports car engine and saw the yellow car accelerate past me.  As it passed by, I saw there were two people in it, and the blurry image of the passenger was a large man with a red tie.

Now my imagination was playing tricks.

It could not be the same man.  He was going in a different direction.

In the few minutes I’d been standing on the pavement, it had started to snow; early for this time of year, and marking the start of what could be a long, cold winter.  I shuddered, and it was not necessarily because of the temperature.

I looked up and saw a neon light advertising a bar, coincidentally the one Harry had ‘found’ and, looking once in the direction of the departing yellow car, I decided to go in.  I would have a few drinks and then leave through the back door if there were one.

Just in case.

…

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

newechocover5rs

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 32

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.

Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.

And, so, it continues…

…

It was about a mile by foot to the old church.  Carlo was waiting for us, and then led the way because I wasn’t sure where it was, even though I’d been there once, and hadn’t really been taking any notice.

It was enough time to ask Blinky a few questions about how things were going because he would have a better overall view of the war being involved in the operational side of things.  Thompson’s group of which I was a part, only had our part in a much larger war effort involving a number of covert operations.

It wasn’t going well, not that he put it in so many words, and it looked like it was going to drag on a while longer.  Beyond that, he was not saying anything more.  Perhaps he didn’t know, or perhaps he thought the trees had ears.

I know, loose lips sink ships.

Carlo was indifferent, though I could see he was not happy about Leonardo not turning up so we could kill him and his men.  For me, I had an awfully bad feeling we had missed something, and the end result of it was not going to be good.

And that feeling of foreboding only increased the closer we got to the church ruins.

Blinky was shocked to learn that the Germans would destroy a church and kill the priest.  I guess a lot of people would be if they knew.

When we were about 50 yards from the entrance, I saw one of Blinky’s men show his face, behind a gun raised just in case we were not friends.  When he saw Blinky with us, he lowered the gun and stepped out of the shadows so we could see him.

Closer again, I could see the soldier was looking quite distraught.

“What’s the matter?” Blinky asked him.  

“When we got here, we went inside the church.  God, it was awful.  There’s a woman in there, and…” 

A woman?

I almost ran, and at the end, lying on the ground was a woman, with the Sergeant trying to do what he could.

Carlo bustled past and was first to her side.

“Chiara,” he said hoarsely.

Chiara?  What was she doing here?  How did she get here?  What had happened?

I joined Carlo on the other side.  She was awake but in a terrible state.  Whoever inflicted punishment on her had been very brutal.  The sergeant had managed to cover her broken body with the remnants of her clothes and had tried to clean away some of the blood.

She had been beaten severely and she had the sort of wounds I’d seen before, a result of both fists and weapons.  Torture used to extract information, and, with a sinking feeling, I knew exactly what information Leonardo would be after.

And equally, I knew there would be no point getting to the underground hideout.  All I could hope for was that some, if not all who had been taken there for their safety, had escaped.  But, without forewarning…

She looked from Carlo to me.

“What happened,” I asked.

“Leonardo.  I went out to collect one of the family members and ran into Leonardo and his men.  

They brought me here, and…”  It was spoken haltingly, as each breath, each word, brought on new and sharp pain.  She was having trouble breathing, and the blood coming out her mouth told me it was possible she had broken ribs and a punctured lung.

I hoped not, but it was a forlorn hope.  There was little we would be able to do for her, and moving her, and finding proper medical help was going to be almost impossible.

At the end of that first speech, I saw her shudder, and then moan as waves of pain passed through her.

The Sargent had a field medical kit and had taken out a syringe which I assumed had morphine.  She was going to need it.

“This should take away the pain,” he said to no one in particular, then administered it.

For a moment I thought it had rendered her unconscious, but a minute or so later she opened her eyes again.  Glassy, but there was a shred of relief in them.

“You’re going to have to move her to somewhere better than this.  There’s a lot of damage, and it’s going to be difficult.”  The Sargent knew he was fighting a losing battle.

I got the impression it wasn’t the worst he’d seen.

I felt her hand touch mine, and she said, softly, “Tell Martina I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m not the brave person she thinks I am.  I couldn’t withstand the torture.  I tried, I tried very hard, but I couldn’t stop myself…”  Again, it was in dispersed with wheezing, breathlessness, and bouts of pain when she tried to breathe in.  I almost couldn’t quite understand her, because her English was not as good as Martina’s.

It confirmed my worst fear, that Leonardo knew where Martina and the others were hiding.

I jumped up.  “Blinky, stay here, do what you can for her.  Carlo…”

He was up and heading for the exit.  He heard, and he knew what it meant.

Blinky took my place, and said, “Go.  We’ll be here when you get back.”

For a big man, Carlo was fast, and it took until we’d almost reached the underground entrance before I caught up with him.

© Charles Heath 2020

Inspiration, maybe – Volume 1

50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.

They all start with –

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

lookingdownfromcoronetpeak

And the story:

…

It was once said that a desperate man has everything to lose.

The man I was chasing was desperate, but I, on the other hand, was more desperate to catch him.

He’d left a trail of dead people from one end of the island to the other.

The team had put in a lot of effort to locate him, and now his capture was imminent.  We were following the car he was in, from a discreet distance, and, at the appropriate time, we would catch up, pull him over, and make the arrest.

There was nowhere for him to go.

The road led to a dead-end, and the only way off the mountain was back down the road we were now on.  Which was why I was somewhat surprised when we discovered where he was.

Where was he going?

“Damn,” I heard Alan mutter.  He was driving, being careful not to get too close, but not far enough away to lose sight of him.

“What?”

“I think he’s made us.”

“How?”

“Dumb bad luck, I’m guessing.  Or he expected we’d follow him up the mountain.  He’s just sped up.”

“How far away?”

“A half-mile.  We should see him higher up when we turn the next corner.”

It took an eternity to get there, and when we did, Alan was right, only he was further on than we thought.”

“Step on it.  Let’s catch him up before he gets to the top.”

Easy to say, not so easy to do.  The road was treacherous, and in places, just gravel, and there were no guard rails to stop a three-thousand-foot fall down the mountainside.

Good thing then, I had the foresight to have three agents on the hill for just such a scenario.

Ten minutes later, we were in sight of the car, still moving quickly, but we were going slightly faster.  We’d catch up just short of the summit car park.

Or so we thought.

Coming quickly around another corner, we almost slammed into the car we’d been chasing.

“What the hell…” Aland muttered.

I was out of the car and over to see if he was in it, but I knew that it was only a slender possibility.  The car was empty, and no indication of where he had gone.

Certainly not up the road.  It was relatively straightforward for the next mile, at which we would have reached the summit.  Up the mountainside from here, or down.

I looked up.  Nothing.

Alan yelled out, “He’s not going down, not that I can see, but if he did, there’s hardly a foothold and that’s a long fall.”

Then where did he go?

Then a man looking very much like our quarry came out from behind a rock embedded just a short distance up the hill.

“Sorry,” he said quite calmly.  “Had to go if you know what I mean.”

I’d lost him.

It was as simple as that.

I had been led a merry chase up the hill, and all the time he was getting away in a different direction.

I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, letting my desperation blind me to the disguise that anyone else would see through in an instant.

It was a lonely sight, looking down that road, knowing that I had to go all that way down again, only this time, without having to throw caution to the wind.

“Maybe next time,” Alan said.

“We’ll get him.  It’s just a matter of time.”

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2026

…

Find this and other stories in “Inspiration, maybe”, available soon.

InspirationMaybe1v1

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 33

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

 

Whilst Boggs took the time to get over his assault, I went back to my job at Benderby’s because there was no reason not to.  Benderby himself had checked several times on how I was, and I was beginning to think he called just to see my mother. 

And the notion of those two together was not painting a pretty picture, knowing who he was.  But we were being treated better than we had and that was a good thing, or so my mother said.  She too was surprised at Benderby’s interest, but she was not writing anything into it.  She had a different perception of him that most others had.

I was careful to avoid Alex, not that it was difficult because he was rarely in the warehouse office, or anywhere on the factory site most days, except for a few hours in the morning, and to close up at night.  No one else seemed to miss his presence, but I was a little more suspicious as to what he was doing with the rest of his time, to the extent that once I went looking for him.

The only conclusion I’d come to, now that he had his own map, it had to have something to do with the treasure.

Getting a version of the treasure map to Alex via Nadia had been a logistical nightmare, and constantly fraught with the expectation that Alex might think he was being set up.  The fact it was Nadia doing it was not lost on me and I realized later we had played right into her, and her family’s, hands in fitting the ongoing feud between the families.  Nor was it lost on me the enthusiasm which she showed in carrying out the plan.

If it wasn’t for the fact both Boggs and I benefited from it, I would have had second thoughts about employing her.  And Boggs was right, a girl like that could never like a boy like me.  She would always be the province of the likes of Alex Benderby, and I told myself that it was going to be business only from now on.

She set up the meeting with Alex and arranged for me to be nearby to witness the transaction, though what her reason was for that I had no idea and I really didn’t want to be there.  For some reason, I didn’t like the idea of Nadia getting close to Alex, but it was necessary, she decided, in order to sell the story.

She had cajoled him into believing firstly his map was the real map mainly because she had used her feminine wiles on Boogs, talking him into showing her the real map, and, then, while he was away for a few minutes, she had copied it.

Then it was a matter of keeping the map a secret because firstly it would ruin the rapport she supposedly had with Boggs should they need him again, and as far as she was aware, Vince thought he also had the real map and which Boggs said was not, and to mess with Vince would immediately make him suspicious about the authenticity of his map and that would be the last thing Alex would want.

It was a treat to see how manipulable Alex was when she was making offers she knew she’d never keep.  Or at least not in front of me.  I didn’t expect that I meant very much to her and watching her with Alex was much like how she handled me, so I guess we were all manipulable in her hands.  She was a Cossatino, and in that regard, no end of trouble.

With Alex handled, she left him with so much promise and so little substance I was surprised he fell for it.  But, there again, even in school, Alex wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.  I think the notion that he could pull off the treasure hunt might just get the monkey on his back his father had put there many years before.

Then there was Nadia.

Seeing her in action put her in a different light.  Whilst those midnight rendezvous at the motel may have given me a sense of false bravado, seeing her with Alex, and playing her games, I had to wonder if my feelings were just an infatuation.  Did I like Nadia all that much?  I guess I must a little, to be feeling angry when Alex touched her.  

I had to remind myself that I could never live in her world, that her first and last instinct would always be to lie and manipulate.  She was, after all, a Cossatino, and leopards, as they say, never changed their spots.  She might want to escape from her family, but saying it and doing it were two entirely different things,

I doubted her father, no matter how much he liked or hated her, should ever let her go, simply because as a beautiful woman, she could do so much for the family business.

Whether she wanted to or not.

I left once he agreed, and before she did anything with him.  Clearly, Alex was expecting them to work as a team, but she had declined on account of her father, who was as mad as a hatter, and might just start killing Benderby’s if he found out she was working with him.

Best to leave well alone and appear to go their separate ways.

Until the treasure was found.



I didn’t hear from Boggs for a week.  I’d decided that I was going to leave him alone until he called or sent a text.  Boggs and idle time were a bad mix so I knew when I next heard from him, he would have formulated a half-baked grandiose plan for us to go on our treasure hunt.

And I was busy working out how I was going to tell him he had to take a step back and watch and wait till the Benderby’s and the Cossatino’s had launched their campaigns.  It wouldn’t take long.  Both sons of self-made men, Alex and Vince had a lot to prove to their fathers, and there was no doubt they were going to use the lost treasure as the means of getting back into favor.

That brought a problem to the table, not immediately, but down the road, when neither would be able to find it.  Their first port of call would be Boggs, the one who had supplied them with ‘faulty’ maps.  It would never be their fault, that they were too stupid to realize they were being played, or, even if it was the right map, still couldn’t follow the instructions.

But even I had that problem.  I’d seen quite a few variations with notations, diagrams and cryptic messages.  I was not sure how they were going to fare.  Perhaps he had been thinking of just that because I received a text message, asking me to come over the next morning.  

As Sherlock Holmes would say, ‘the game’s afoot’.

© Charles Heath 2019-2020

Short story writing – don’t try this at home! – Part 2

This is not a treatise, but a tongue-in-cheek discussion on how to write short stories. Suffice to say, this is not the definitive way of doing it, just mine. It works for me – it might not work for you.

…

There are two methods of writing, planning, sometimes meticulous planning, or flying by the seat of your pants, or being called a ‘pantser’.

The first has it all planned out before they start writing, from beginning to end, knowing what the end result will be. The second, well, we like to write and see where it takes us.

I like to think I fly by the seat of my pants, you know, like the reader who takes up the story and starts reading, not having a clue where it’s going to go. I prefer that blissful ignorance, of course, until I run out of ideas, roughly the equivalent of hitting a brick wall

Or that common enemy all writers have, the dreaded ‘writer’s block’.

I’ve tried both methods.

Each work, but in the case of the ‘planner’, you need to know where it’s going to start, what’s going to happen in the middle and have the end firmly planted in your mind.

Not much good if a rotten character is making you angry and you want to kill him off, and in the most excruciatingly painful manner.

Flying blind gives you a little more creativity and allows you to go around a corner and see what’s there. It also allows for those complete changes of direction you come up with in the shower, the place that is a fertile ground for new ideas, just when you’re running out of them.

But it can sometimes play havoc with word counts, and if you’re trying to fit into 2,000 words, 5,000 words, or a lot less, taking the story where it wants to go is not a good idea, and sadly, I tend to let stories run their course.

And sometimes I like the idea of writing three different endings, and then I can’t choose which one I like the best.

So, role model, I am not. I like writing, and when I’m in the ‘zone’ it’s like I’m in another world.

But then, isn’t that the case for all of us?

More unclarity tomorrow!

What I learned about writing – What Lessons Can Eric Ambler Teach a New Writer?

What Lessons Can Eric Ambler Teach a New Writer?
Practical advice from the master of the modern thriller

When you think of the “golden age” of spy fiction, names like John le Carre, Ian Fleming, and Graham Greene instantly spring to mind. What most readers don’t realise is that a quieter, less‑celebrated author laid the groundwork for all of them: Eric Ambler (1909‑1998).

Ambler didn’t just write novels; he rewrote the rules of the genre. His work—The Man Who Never Was, Journey into Fear, The Mask of Dimitrios—is a study in how to turn ordinary people into compelling protagonists, how to let geopolitics drive plot without drowning the reader, and how to keep suspense razor‑sharp while still honouring the truth of human motivation.

For anyone standing at the blank‑page brink of a first novel, Ambler’s career offers a masterclass in three core areas:

  1. Crafting believable, reluctant heroes
  2. Using the world, not just the plot, as a character
  3. Balancing suspense with moral nuance

Below, we unpack each lesson, illustrate it with concrete examples from Ambler’s bibliography, and translate it into actionable steps you can apply today.

1. The Reluctant Everyman – Make Your Hero Someone Readers Can Imagine Being

What Ambler Did

Most thriller protagonists of the 1930s and ‘40s were larger‑than‑life secret agents or aristocratic adventurers. Ambler flipped the script. His main characters are ordinary, often barely competent individuals thrust into a web of intrigue:

  • Arthur O’Neill in The Man Who Wasn’t There is a low‑level civil servant who unwittingly becomes a pawn in a Nazi plot.
  • Robert in Journey into Fear is a Canadian engineer on a train ride through the Balkans, suddenly the target of assassins.
  • G. M. K. Griffiths in The Mask of Dimitrios is a literary scholar investigating a notorious criminal—more curious than courageous.

These heroes are reluctant, morally ambiguous, and prone to fear—precisely the traits that make them feel like us.

Why It Works

  • Identification: Readers see themselves in someone who isn’t superhuman, which spikes emotional investment.
  • Tension: An inexperienced protagonist is more vulnerable, raising the stakes without needing an over‑the‑top villain.
  • Growth: A believable character arc (from clueless to competent) feels earned, not contrived.

How to Apply It

StepActionExample
Identify the “average” personList traits that make the character relatable: job, family, anxieties.A junior data analyst who loves coffee, hates small talk.
Introduce the “inciting incident” as an intrusionLet something outside the protagonist’s control yank them into conflict.They receive a mysterious encrypted email meant for a government operative.
Show genuine fear and doubtWrite internal monologue that admits uncertainty.“I wasn’t cut out for this. My biggest risk was staying late on a spreadsheet.”
Plan a realistic skill‑acquisition curveSketch how the character learns, fails, and adapts.They teach themselves basic cryptography through late‑night YouTube tutorials.

Pro Tip: If you’re stuck on “what does my hero do?”, imagine your own reaction to a high‑stakes scenario. Write it down, then amplify the stakes. The result is a prototype for a truly reluctant hero.

2. The World as a Character – Let Setting Drive Plot

What Ambler Did

Ambler was a geopolitical cartographer. The places his characters inhabit—pre‑WWII Vienna, post‑war Istanbul, a storm‑racked Greek island—are never just backdrops. They shape the narrative:

  • In The Mask of Dimitrios, the murky alleyways of Bucharest and the shifting alliances of Balkan politics make the chase feel inevitable, not contrived.
  • The Intercom Conspiracy (written under a pseudonym) places a British civil servant in a post‑war London where rationing and reconstruction fuel paranoia.

By integrating political tension, cultural nuance, and historic detail, Ambler makes the setting an active, almost antagonistic, force.

Why It Works

  • Authenticity: Readers sense that the story could really happen in that time/place.
  • Atmospheric tension: A rainy night in war‑torn Sarajevo feels more ominous than a generic dark alley.
  • Plot propulsion: Real‑world constraints (censorship, border controls) naturally create obstacles for the protagonist.

How to Apply It

StepActionExample
Pick a time & place you love (or can research quickly)Choose a setting that offers built‑in conflict.A small coastal town in California during the 2020 wildfires.
Identify three “local pressures”List political, social, or environmental forces shaping daily life.1️⃣ Evacuation orders, 2️⃣ Media sensationalism, 3️⃣ Neighboring landowners’ disputes over water rights.
Map those pressures onto your plotMake each pressure a hurdle or clue for your hero.The protagonist’s car is blocked by a burned‑out road, forcing a detour that leads to a hidden stash of evidence.
Weave sensory detailsUse smell, sound, weather, and local slang to make the setting vivid.“The acrid perfume of pine smoke clung to his shirt, while distant sirens sang a mournful lullaby.”

Pro Tip: When you feel tempted to “dump” historical exposition, turn it into dialogue or a small, meaningful action. A local shopkeeper mentioning curfew restrictions does more world‑building than an entire paragraph of narration.

3. Moral Ambiguity Over Moral Certainty – Keep the Reader Guessing

What Ambler Did

Unlike the clear‑cut good‑vs‑evil binaries of early adventure novels, Ambler’s antagonists are often crooked but charismatic, and his heroes sometimes make morally questionable choices:

  • In The Light of Day, the protagonist Levi, a Jewish refugee, must decide whether to betray a friend to stay alive.
  • The Intercom Conspiracy shows a British intelligence officer who manipulates evidence to protect a political agenda, blurring the line between patriotism and treason.

Ambler trusted his readers to sit with the discomfort, rather than resolve it neatly.

Why It Works

  • Depth: Nuanced characters feel more human, inviting readers to linger on their motivations.
  • Longevity: Stories that refuse a tidy resolution stay with readers, sparking discussion long after the last page.
  • Realism: In the modern world, ethical gray zones are the norm, not the exception.

How to Apply It

StepActionExample
Define a “conflict of values”Identify two opposing principles that will tug at your protagonist.Loyalty to family vs. duty to expose a corporate scandal.
Force a choicePut the protagonist in a situation where both options have severe consequences.Leak the documents and risk his sister’s job, or stay silent and become complicit.
Show the aftermath, not just the decisionReveal how the choice haunts the character later.He sleeps poorly, hearing his sister’s laughter in his dreams, wondering if he chose correctly.
Avoid “the moral of the story” voiceLet the reader infer, rather than tell.End with a lingering question: “Was the truth worth the cost?” rather than a narrator’s “In the end, honesty prevails.”

Pro Tip: Write a “villain’s diary” entry for each antagonist. Understanding their rationale will help you avoid cartoonish evil and keep the moral palette rich.

Putting It All Together – A Mini‑Blueprint for Your First Thriller

Below is a step‑by‑step worksheet that melds Ambler’s three core lessons into a single, coherent outline.

StageWhat to Do (Ambler‑Inspired)Quick Checklist
1. CharacterChoose an ordinary protagonist with a hidden talent or curiosity.☐ Occupation
☐ Fear
☐ Core skill (even if underused)
2. Inciting EventCreate an external intrusion that forces them into a larger conflict.☐ Unexpected message
☐ Wrongful accusation
☐ Accidental witness
3. SettingPick a locale teeming with latent tension (political, environmental, social).☐ Time period
☐ Three local pressures
☐ Sensory palette
4. Plot BeatsMap each pressure to a plot obstacle; let the world push the hero.☐ Roadblock
☐ Betrayal from a local figure
☐ Natural disaster
5. Moral DilemmaInsert a decision where every choice harms someone (or the hero).☐ Two competing values
☐ Visible stakes
☐ Consequence echo
6. GrowthShow incremental skill acquisition (research, allies, improvisation).☐ First failure
☐ Small win
☐ Final adaptation
7. ResolutionEnd with a lingering question rather than a tidy “all’s well.”☐ Ambiguous outcome
☐ Hint of future danger
☐ Emotional after‑taste

Try It Now: Take five minutes to fill out the first two rows for a story you’ve been mulling over. You’ll instantly see an Ambler‑style outline emerge.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Q: I love high‑octane action—does an “ordinary” hero limit excitement?
A: Not at all. Ambler’s tension comes from the hero’s vulnerability. When a seemingly powerless character outwits a powerful foe, the payoff feels bigger because the odds are stacked against them.

Q: My story is set in a near‑future sci‑fi world. Can Ambler’s lessons still apply?
A: Absolutely. Ambler’s trick isn’t the era; it’s using external forces (politics, environment, culture) as plot drivers. In a near‑future setting, think of climate treaties, AI regulation, or corporate surveillance as the “world pressures.”

Q: How much research is enough? I’m afraid of getting stuck in a research spiral.
A: Aim for “functional authenticity.” Capture the broad strokes (e.g., a city’s transportation network, a country’s legal system) and sprinkle in a few vivid, specific details (a street name, a local dish). Your story will feel solid without turning into a dissertation.

Q: Ambler’s prose feels old‑fashioned. Should I mimic his style?
A: No. Use his principles, not his sentence structures. Modern readers appreciate crisp dialogue, tight pacing, and contemporary slang—just keep the focus on character honesty and world integration, just as Ambler did.

Final Takeaway: Write Like Ambler, Not Like Ambler

The genius of Eric Ambler isn’t in a signature sentence or a penchant for exotic locations; it’s in the method he used to make the ordinary extraordinary. When you:

  1. Plant a relatable, reluctant protagonist,
  2. Let the setting act as a living, breathing force, and
  3. Embrace moral ambiguity,

You’re not copying Ambler—you’re adopting a timeless storytelling framework that still feels fresh in 2026.

So the next time the blank page laughs back at you, remember: the best thrillers start with a regular person, a real world that pushes back, and a question you’re not allowed to answer too cleanly. Write that, and you’ll have taken your first solid step onto the path Ambler blazed over eight decades ago.

Happy writing—and may your conspiracies be as tantalising as Ambler’s.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 187

Day 187 – Words that seem to be there but are not

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The Ghost in the Machine: Why Your Brain Skips Words (and How to Catch Them)

“Proofread carefully to see if you any words out.” — William Safire

If you read that opening sentence at a glance, your brain likely auto-corrected it. You probably didn’t even notice that the word “leave” was missing.

That is the phenomenon that keeps professional writers, editors, and students up at night. Why does our brain—an incredibly sophisticated biological supercomputer—blindly skip over our own errors? And more importantly, why is meticulous proofreading the most critical step in communication?

The Psychology of the “Invisible” Error

When we write, we aren’t just putting symbols on a page; we are externalising a thought process. By the time you reach the end of a sentence, your brain has already “pre-processed” the meaning.

When you go back to proofread, your brain isn’t reading what is actually there. Instead, it is performing a shortcut, retrieving the intended meaning from your memory and projecting it onto the page. You aren’t reading the text; you are reading your own internal map of the text.

This is why, as William Safire famously pointed out, we often leave words out. Our brains are “predictive engines.” If you write, “The cat sat on the mat,” your brain knows the pattern of that sentence so well that it fills in the gaps even if you accidentally typed, “The cat sat mat.”

Why Precision is Your Only Currency

In a digital age where attention spans are measured in seconds, precision is more than just good grammar—it’s a trust signal. Here is why closely checking your writing is non-negotiable:

1. It Protects Your Credibility

Typos, omitted words, and grammatical slips act as “cognitive friction.” When a reader hits an error, they pause. That pause breaks their immersion. If enough errors occur, the reader stops focusing on what you are saying and starts focusing on your lack of attention to detail. Once you lose their focus, you lose their trust.

2. Clarity Prevents Chaos

Omitted words can change the entire intent of a sentence. In professional settings, a missing “not” or a misplaced decimal point isn’t just an embarrassment—it’s a liability. Rigorous proofreading ensures your message is received exactly as you intended, leaving zero room for interpretation.

3. It Respects Your Audience

When you publish unpolished work, you are essentially asking the reader to do the heavy lifting of editing your thoughts. Taking the time to proofread is a mark of respect; it shows that you value the reader’s time and have put in the effort to make your ideas as accessible as possible.

Pro-Tips for Catching the Ghost Words

If your brain is programmed to hide your mistakes, how do you trick it into revealing them? Use these professional tactics to bypass your own internal “auto-correct”:

  • Change the Medium: If you wrote the draft on a laptop, print it out. A physical page triggers a different visual response in the brain than a screen does.
  • The “Read-Aloud” Rule: When you read silently, your brain moves faster than your eyes. When you read aloud—physically sounding out every syllable—your brain is forced to process every singular word. You will hear the missing words immediately.
  • Read Backwards: It sounds tedious, but reading your sentences from the final word to the first forces your brain to analyse individual words rather than the “flow” of the sentence. It makes the text look foreign, which makes errors stand out like sore thumbs.
  • Step Away: This is the most important rule. You cannot proofread your own work immediately after writing it. You need to create “cognitive distance.” Give it an hour, or better yet, a full night. Returning with fresh eyes is the only way to see what is actually written, rather than what you intended to write.

Final Thoughts

William Safire’s quote serves as a humble reminder: we are all prone to the same cognitive blind spots. Excellence isn’t about being perfect; it’s about having a system that catches the humanity in your work.

The next time you hit “send” or “publish,” take a moment to read your work one last time—not as the author, but as a sceptical stranger. Your readers will thank you for it.

Struggling to polish your content? Remember: Writing is an act of creation, but editing is an act of refinement. Take your time, slow down, and don’t let your brain skip the details.

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Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Santorini

That is a fantastic shift! Santorini is world-famous for the caldera view, but if you venture away from the main settlements of Fira and Oia, you’ll find the authentic, Cycladic heart of the island.

Here are five next best places or activities to explore on the road less travelled in Santorini:

1. Pyrgos Kallistis Village

  • What it is: The highest village on Santorini, offering 360-degree views of the entire island. It was the former capital until 1800.
  • Why it’s less travelled: While tour buses stop here, they rarely spend the evening, meaning it’s wonderfully quiet outside of midday. Its labyrinthine, uphill streets were built to confuse pirates, and its architecture is a beautiful mix of Cycladic and Venetian styles, culminating in a Venetian castle (Kasteli) at the peak.
  • Activity: Wander the quiet alleyways in the late afternoon, climb to the top of the Kasteli, and have dinner at a traditional taverna as the sun sets, without the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds of Oia.

2. Akrotiri Lighthouse

  • What it is: Located on the southernmost tip of the island, this is one of the oldest lighthouses in Greece, built in 1892.
  • Why it’s less travelled: It requires a dedicated drive, and most tourists stop short at the famous Akrotiri archeological site or Red Beach. This spot offers a stunning, completely different perspective on the caldera and the Aegean Sea.
  • Activity: Pack a small picnic and head here for a truly quiet and spectacular sunset view. You’ll be watching the sun sink into the sea from a peaceful, historic spot, rather than looking at it over the main villages.

3. Vlychada Beach and its Volcanic Cliffs

  • What it is: A beach on the south side of the island famous for its towering, sculpted white cliffs composed of volcanic ash, which have been eroded by wind and sea into incredible, moon-like shapes.
  • Why it’s less travelled: It’s far from the main villages and has a wilder, more remote feel than the popular black sand beaches (Perissa/Perivolos).
  • Activity: Take a long walk along the unique shoreline, where the “moonscape” cliffs provide a naturally shaded, artistic backdrop. The beach itself is a mix of black sand and pebbles, offering a dramatic setting for relaxation and photography.

4. Hiking to Ancient Thera

  • What it is: The ruins of an ancient city built on the steep, rocky Mesa Vouno mountain, which separates the beaches of Perissa and Kamari.
  • Why it’s less travelled: It requires a rigorous 30-45 minute uphill hike (or a drive up a steep, winding road) to reach, which deters most casual tourists.
  • Activity: Climb up in the morning before the heat hits, and explore the remains of Hellenistic temples, Roman baths, and Byzantine walls. You’ll be rewarded with incredible panoramic views over the black sand beaches on one side and the eastern coast on the other.

5. Wine Tasting in Mesa Gonia (Ghost Village)

  • What it is: A collection of traditional wineries located in the inland vineyards, away from the caldera, in a village often referred to as a “ghost village” because many inhabitants left after the 1956 earthquake.
  • Why it’s less travelled: The island’s wine culture (using the unique kouloura basket-pruning technique) is often overlooked in favour of beach time. The village itself is authentic and unrenovated.
  • Activity: Visit a local winery like Gavalas or Koutsoyannopoulos Wine Museum (which is underground) to taste the local Assyrtiko, Nykteri, and Vinsanto wines. This gives you a true appreciation for the island’s unique volcanic soil and agricultural traditions.

In a word: Fourth

When you realize you are the fourth child, you are really hoping that the split is two boys and three girls.  Woe betide you if you are a boy and you have three sisters.  It could also be as interesting, notice I didn’t say intolerable) if you are a girl with three brothers.

Hang on, I know someone who was in that exact same situation.  Fortunately, being a girl and the youngest, she could do no wrong in the eyes of her father.

But I digress (as usual)

The meaning of fourth is self-evident, just count to four and it’s the fourth number, perhaps better explained by the fact it is one after the third in a series

Then we use it with other words like,

Fourth-gear, usually reserved for the highway where one expects to geta clear run.  Of course, with more and more cars on the road, sometimes it’s difficult to get out of second.

The fourth estate, no, not what a rich person owns, along with a lot more one guesses, but another name for the press.

One fourth, your share of an estate, if of course, you have three other siblings.  And, in murder mysteries, usually those fourths seem to die mysteriously, and your fourth becomes a third, a half, and then you go to jail.

in fourth place, where it seems all the horse I back run

And,

This is not to be confused with the word forth, which sounds the same but means something entirely different, like

I’m sure we’ve all been told to go forth and be something or other, which means to go forward or come out of hiding

It is also a Scottish river, one notably called the Firth of Forth, and if it sounds odd, so do a lot things in Scotland

You could also place back and forth, much the same as you would in a hospital waiting for the birth of your first child.

First Dig Two Graves

A sequel to “The Devil You Don’t”

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Revenge is a dish best served cold – or preferably so when everything goes right

Of course, it rarely does, as Alistair, Zoe’s handler, discovers to his peril. Enter a wildcard, John, and whatever Alistair’s plan for dealing with Zoe was dies with him.

It leaves Zoe in completely unfamiliar territory.

…

John’s idyllic romance with a woman who is utterly out of his comfort zone is on borrowed time. She is still trying to reconcile her ambivalence after being so indifferent for so long.

They agree to take a break, during which she disappears. John, thinking she has left without saying goodbye, refuses to accept the inevitable and calls on an old friend for help in finding her.

After the mayhem and being briefly reunited, she recognises an inevitable truth: there is a price to pay for taking out Alistair; she must leave and find them first, and he would be wise to keep a low profile.

But keeping a low profile just isn’t possible, and enlisting another friend, a private detective and his sister, a deft computer hacker, they track her to the border between Austria and Hungary.

What John doesn’t realise is that another enemy is tracking him to find her too. It could have been a grand tour of Europe. Instead, it becomes a race against time before enemies old and new converge for what will be an inevitable showdown.