“Opposites Attract” – The Editor’s first draft – Day 24

This book was the effort put into the last NaNoWriMo November 2023 exercise. I have now picked it back up, and working on a more polished first draft for the Editor.

…

A chat with Fred

…

The search for Tim was going to be through a baptism of fire. Our boy had to go through his friends to find him.

And Tim’s friends were as belligerent as Tim was. And a friend of Tim was an enemy of our boys.

But, how hard can it be?

To start the quest, he gets another ride in the corporate jet and gets to work with his new PA, Guinevere. Oh, and did she say she used to work for Tim the Ungrateful?

Water under another bridge.

We touch down in town and there’s no time like the present to visit Fred, the staunchest of Tim’s allies, and the man who would know where he is.

With a mountain to climb, our boy goes into the bar where many a fight had played out badly, the bar that is renowned for the farm hands to let off steam.

Yes, there is a fight.

But for a long time our boy has been hiding a talent his father advised him never to use.

Pity this was the time or place.

And Fred discovers, what he always suspected, they had always been allowed to win.

…

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

…

How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.

In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.

I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.

Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.

There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.

It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.

For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.

It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

In a word: Bar

There’s more than one way … er, perhaps it’s better to say, there are many ways to use the word bar, which is not bad for a three letter word.

Bar, the one you associate with drinks, in hotels, restaurants and we’ll, just bars.

Probably the best type of bar you might find me in is a Sports Bar, where you can snack on buffalo wings a tall glass of beer and watch with ice hockey in winter or baseball in summer.

It’s one I use from time to time when asked, what will we do, and the reply is often let’s go to a bar. The best bars are underground, dark and dingy, full of eclectic people, with a band playing almost passable music or better still jazz

Bar, as in the legal variety

There are so many legal references to using bar, that the one that I am most familiar with is being admitted to the bar which means that you can now practice law.

Raising the bar, if that’s possible, where the bar is that imaginary level which offers sinks very low. When someone says they’re going to try and raise the bar, you may be assured there will be a long battle ahead, simply because people generally find it hard to change.

Bar, as in we are not going to let you in here. Yes, this is the irksome one where you find yourself, often for reasons unknown, barred from somewhere or something. This may also be referred to by saying everyone may enter bar you.

Bar, as in an iron bar, the sort that is sometimes used as a blunt force object by villains to remind the victim they owe any one of a loan shark, bookie or the mafia. God help you if it is all three.

There are also iron bars of a different sort, those that are set in concrete outside a window most likely in a prison where the objective is to prevent escape.

It gives rise to an old expression, that person should be behind bars.

Then there is just a bar, such as a bar of gold, which I’m sure we’d all like to have stashed away, but not necessarily in the mattress, or the more common variety, a chocolate bar, which I have one now. What’s your favorite?

And just to add to the list of meanings you can always refer to sashes or stripes as bars.

Confused? Well, there’s still music, and the bane of yachtsmen, sand bars but I think we’ll leave it there.

Welcome to the English language

The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 11

Verbal sparring with Juliet

…

I had expected Juliet would try and maneuver the conversation in the direction Larry wanted, and I thought about whether I would be obtuse in simply ignoring her and talking about anything else, or just have fun with Larry who, no doubt, would be listening in.

Her first question was hardly surprising, an effort to see if I would tell her what my work was. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, but I could intimate certain things. But not straight away, Juliet was going to give to ask the right questions.

“Since retirement, I spent most of my time looking after Violetta.”

“Was she unwell?”

A natural assumption that everyone made, but nothing could be further from the truth. She had given me purpose after so long in a trade that traded in endless lies and deception.

And it had been on one of those missions she had been caught in the crossfire, as I pretended to be, and got her out. We found each other again, by accident, literally, and it developed from there.

I was done with that job and wandering aimlessly around Europe at the time. She knew something was wrong with me, but never pushed, just accepted that everything would be better in time.

And it was.

It was a while before I answered, several vivid memories of her rising to the surface as they did, unexpectedly at times.

“No. I often think she was exactly what she thought I needed to be for her. She had come from a family that had servants all their lives, and there were certain expectations.”

I could see it in her expression, that Violetta treated me like a servant. Good, let her.

“I had always wondered what it was you did, that you could end up I’m my hospital in such bad shape. I never bought that car accident excuse we were given, because the injuries were inconsistent.”

“You were an expert on car injuries?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I had made it a hobby if you like, to treat as many as possible, cataloging the injuries so that other doctors might treat patients with such injuries more efficiently.”

“So, having said that, what in your humble opinion was the cause of my injuries?”

“Being tossed out of a moving car, but more likely the result of a bar fight, the sort they had in the old wild west.”

And she’d be right. It was six against two, and at a disadvantage, and, yes, I had been thrown a short distance, but not by the enemy. It was a gesture to save me from a worse beating. I had been lucky that night, my partner had not.

“Well, always an interesting topic for doctors sitting around a campfire talking shop. But I will say this, I was a policeman once, with a blue uniform too. I did spend time on the streets, but mostly doing paperwork, as I keep telling everyone.”

“And what caused your injuries?”

She was persistent, I’ll give her that.

“Getting involved in a domestic argument. It’s not the sort of work anyone wants to get in the middle of, and my partner at the time was killed. You saw what happened to me. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She gave me a measured look, one that seemed to say she didn’t believe a word of it, and I was fine with that. In any other circumstance, we would not be talking about it, and I had tried to put the real events of that day behind me.

It wasn’t easy. Not when you lose someone. It becomes that situation where at first you blame yourself for the death, and then after enough people tell you it wasn’t your fault, you begin to wonder what you could have done better to prevent it.

A lot, perhaps, but I’d been younger then, and not as wise. That came layer with experience.

“Tell me about you,” I said, changing the focus.

“Nothing to tell.”

“I read newspapers Juliet, and I know what happened. It might have been on page 16, but it leaped off the page. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true.”

If she thought she was going to escape the inquisition, she was wrong.

I had been surprised to see her name, more surprised at the circumstances, a dalliance with drugs, a bad call, an avoidable death, and the downward spiral from there.

The photo of her in the paper after her arrest was not pretty. She went to jail for a short period, lost her license to practice medicine, and lost a whole lot more.

“If you read the news, then there’s nothing left to tell. I’m clean now, have been for a few years.”

The admission came almost reluctantly, for someone in her situation, it was like an evening ender when the truth was out.

“You were a good doctor. What happened?”

“Too many hours, not enough sleep. A husband who was too consumed in his own career, I took the easy way out. Life is a series of choices, and I made a few bad ones. Shit happens.”

“So, what do you do now?”

“Forensic medicine, assisting coroners. I work with the dead. I figure I can’t hurt them anymore. I try to see the people who don’t survive car crashes, and continue my work in the hope some of the death and mayhem can be prevented.”

As well as doing Larry’s dirty work. Had she done this before?

Sparring suspended, the main courses arrived.

…

“Return to sender” a short story

We all make mistakes, errors of judgment, stupidly or otherwise.

I’ve made a few, just like in the words of a song that rattled around in my head for a long time after.

Regrets, I’ve had a few, but there was one that, in the end, I didn’t.

But I guess it took a while to get to that point.

Sometimes it’s hard to work out why, sometimes because it’s simply time, others, well when you look back you realize that it should have happened for so many reasons, but at the time you couldn’t see the wood for the trees.

We were in a bad place.

I’d been spending too much time traveling in a job that I had begun to hate, and I could see our relationship slipping away. It was not that neither of us cared for the other, or even stopped loving each other, it was simply the stresses of everyday life.

And it was not as if Chloe didn’t have a high-pressure job, the one she had always wanted, and the one, we agreed, nothing would get in the way if she was given the opportunity.

I was happy with that, and for her. She was as entitled to have her dream job, as I was. I thought, I think we both thought, and believed, that would be the foundation of a good relationship.

And it was, to begin with.

There’s a point where there is a catalyst, that action, or statement, or person, or moment in time that comes along like a wrecking ball, and sets a series of events in motion, and no one really knows where it’s going to land or it’s effect.

That event?

I came home early and saw an old friend of mine, Roger, leaving our house. OK, not so much a big deal, except for the send-off. Still, even then it might not be such a big deal, because I knew Chloe was a very affectionate, touchy feely sort of person.

It used to faze me, way back in the beginning, but she had said and proved, that I was the love of her life, and that others, well, she made them feel special.

I thought no more about it, of course, and I didn’t even mention it, though at the time when I did walk in the door, she seemed distracted.

And I would not have thought about it again until Roger’s wife, Melissa, called one morning, though why she would call me was a mystery, to say that she was planning to surprise Roger in Las Vegas.

OK, I was suitably surprised, thinking that she was suggesting that Chloe and I should both go and make a weekend of it. We had done it before because Melissa was a travel agent, and sometimes got airline and hotel deals that made it affordable.

I remember saying that as far as I was aware Chloe was in Pasadena doe the week on a conference.

No, she said, Chloe was co-incidentally in Las Vegas and Roger had accidentally run into her.

Should alarm bells be going off, I wondered, when that sliver of memory of him leaving popped back into my mind? No, it was just me, running around like a headless chook, failing to read her diary correctly.

I simply said, fine, and told her to make the arrangements.

It was going to be a surprise because I hadn’t seen Chloe for two or three weeks, time seemed to pass too quickly these days, and it would be good for the both of us to spend some time together, away from home and the stresses of our respective jobs.

…

I met Melissa at the airport. Unlike Chloe, she was traveling light with only a carry-on bag. I was used to moving fast and light with a bag that fitted in the overhead locker.

Sher had secured business class which was a treat because, in this day and age of economics, that perk had disappeared a while back and was only available to the senior staff.

Onto the fourth glass of champagne, she dropped her bombshell, whether deliberate or otherwise I was never sure.

“It was very nice of Chloe to find Roger a job in her company.”

Did she, I thought. It was the first time I’d heard about it, and my expression must have given me away.

“You didn’t know.”

“Chloe never mentioned it, no. But it is like her.” She had also employed members of her family that, in my opinion, wouldn’t get a job anywhere else.

“Odd, don’t you think? It’s been about a year now. His company went broke, and all the employees were tossed out onto the street with nothing.”

A year was a long time to forget to tell someone. “Has it. Perhaps it just slipped her mind. She doesn’t tell me everything that goes on, nor do I want to know unless she thinks it’s important.”

Except employing my best friend was important, and it surprised me that he hadn’t told me himself. He was never backward in bragging about his achievements. Odd, yes, that he hadn’t told me he’d lost his other job.

…

Melissa had found out the hotel they were staying in, how I had no idea and didn’t ask, and it was simply a matter of telling the front desk clerk their spouses had arrived, and without question, he handed over the keys.

They were staying on different floors which to me made sense. I wasn’t expecting they would be staying together, but I had an awful feeling Melissa had.

On the floor, I went to the room and knocked on the door.

A minute later the door opened. Chloe, still in her nightgown, and an expression which lasted a fraction of a second before it registered surprise.

“Tom!”

Any other time, I might have thought she was expecting someone else.

Then my phone buzzed, an incoming message and I looked at it.

From Melissa. “Lobby, now.”

I looked up, thought how beautiful she still looked, and said, “Hold that thought. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Then I closed the door and headed for the elevators.

Once inside and going down, my brain finally registered what it had just seen. A woman prime for sex with that lustful look she used to have when we were first married. Yes, she had been expecting someone, only not me.

Yet, in that moment of realization, I wasn’t mad at her or angry. She was exactly where she was because of me, and my lack of consideration. I had several opportunities to toss in the job that was clearly causing us issues, and I didn’t. It was inevitable we were going to end up here.

When I stepped out of the elevator, I looked for Melissa, but she was not immediately noticeable. Then, a further scan showed she was outside, and not in a good state. When I reached her, it was evident she had been crying, and she was angry.

“Is it what I think you’re going to say?”

She nodded. “When he opened the door, his first words were, “Chloe you sly fox, back for seconds? And then nearly had a heart attack when he saw me.

“I’m sorry. But did you have an idea this might happen?”

She nodded.

It explained everything, the hints, the sadness, the trip. Obviously, she had known about it for some time.

I gave her a hug, and she melted into my arms, and we stayed that way until I saw Roger coming out of the elevator, looking around.

“Roger’s coming,” I said.

“I don’t want to see him, much less talk to him.”

“Then I’ll head him off. Do you want to go home?” Again she nodded. “Then get a taxi to the airport and I’ll be along in a short time. I’ll text you when I’m leaving.”

A quick look in Roger’s direction, she headed to the taxi rank, and just as Roger came out the door, her taxi departed, leaving him standing there.

He saw me coming towards him, and to give him credit, he didn’t run. It would be difficult for him to know exactly how I might react.

“Tom.”

“My best friend, Roger. I might have been able to cope if it was some random guy, but not you.”

“Look…”

If he was going to try and justify himself, or make excuses, I didn’t want to hear it. “Now is not the time. I’m going to take Melissa home, and I suggest you take the time to figure out how you are going to deal with her because I’m not the problem.”

He was going to reply but possibly thought twice about it. Instead, he shrugged. “Later then.”

I watched him go back inside. What I should have done, then, was go back to see Chloe. The thing is, I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want the conversation to descend into blame, or worse. Better I just head for the airport and come to grips with what I was going to do next.

…

As expected, about five minutes after the taxi had left for the airport, Chloe called.

“I’ve been expecting you,” she said. Her tone was not confident, but a little bit hesitant.

“Sorry. Roger came looking for Melissa, and seeing him, well, that just threw me.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you?”

“About?”

“Going to Pasadena. I came here to end it because it made me realize what was missing between us, and I wanted it back.”

“And if Melissa hadn’t played out her worst fears that would have worked. The world, it seems, works in mysterious ways.”

If I thought about it, I might have had suspicions, but I was not the sort of person to let them get the better of me. And had it not been for Melissa, my ignorance would have been bliss.

“What is it telling us, then, Tom?”

“That we need to take a step back. I know that I’m to blame as much as anything else, and although you might find it hard to believe, I don’t hate you, nor am I angry with you. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I saw the signs and I didn’t do anything about it. We’ll talk when you come home.”

I disconnected the call. My voice had broken, and I hadn’t realized just how much it had affected me, suddenly overcome with great sadness.

…

I didn’t go home.

On the plane back, I realized that where I lived was just a house. It wasn’t mine, Chloe’s success had contributed most towards it, and everything else. If I was to be objective, there really wasn’t anything of me there.

It was easy to walk away.

When Chloe came home and found me missing, she called, three times before I answered. I had thought long and hard about what we had together, and whether or not we could get over what had happened. Perhaps, if she hadn’t lied about where she was, perhaps if it had not been Roger, my best friend, who, by the way, was no longer my best friend, I might have considered we had a chance.

But the trust was broken, and I’d always be wondering. She was successful, she had everything she ever wanted, and she was a grown woman who had to take responsibility for her actions.

She would always be the love of my life; it’s just I couldn’t live with her. We spoke about divorce, but it never seemed to happen. I think she always had the notion that we would eventually get back together.

We parted friends but never seemed to travel in the same circles. On our twentieth wedding anniversary, she sent me a letter, perhaps thinking it was the only way she could speak to me, I had long since traded my old phone in for a new one, in another country.

I toyed with the idea of reading it, but in the end scrawled on it black capital letters, “Not known at this address, return to sender”. It was time to move on.

…

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 55

Those following ships had almost caught up.

…

“On screen.”

A similar-looking man to the last appeared. We were only just beginning to grapple with successful cloning, and I wondered if those who were driving the projects were visitors from this galaxy.

If they were on our world, wouldn’t they be trying to use their knowledge, if not for avarice, but to help, or worse, to eradicate us as a threat?

It was too much for me to concern myself, that was for the high council to discuss and take action.

“Captain, I represent Krulaxl, the traditional home world of Princess Adwenana, and formally request her release into our protection.”

“Captain. For what reason?”

“That is not within my preview to discuss. You can be assured that no harm will come to her.”

“Everybody keeps telling me no harm will come to her, and yet they refuse to tell me about the purpose behind their request. I have discussed the Foroi’s intentions, and I will discuss yours with or without the real reason, but I suspect her response will be the same, she’d rather be recruited as a crew member of my ship that to leave it. Care to explain why that is so?”

“I cannot. Perhaps she is still traumatised from years of incarceration at the hands of the Foroi.”

“And yet there were no signs of ill-treatment.”

“They are very skilled at hiding their methods of torture which I assure you they visit upon all their prisoners.”

“Good to know. I shall speak to you again after I put your request to her.”

The comms officer ended the transmission.

Burke, one of the science officers said, “Captain, the new vessel has been scanning our ship, and tried several times to take the Princess.”

Of course, they had. Engage in a distraction while executing their true purpose.

“All decisions on alert for intruders,” I said, adding, “let’s lift the threat level to blue.” There were only two after that, red, battle stations, an attack imminent, and black, we had been boarded and potential loss of control of the ship.

Our simulations if a black alert always seemed to end in a shambles, so I hoped it didn’t get to that.

“Number One, take charge. No more communications until I return.”

I’m sure by now the Princess was tired of seeing me. Certainly, when I arrived on her doorstep, it was surprising to see a wry smile rather than deep concern.”

“If you keep visiting me like this the crew are going to suspect we are giving a clandestine affair.”

“That would only be the case if you were spoken for.”

She looked puzzled

“You already had a partner. We also call it cheating because we like the idea of monogamy.”

“We’re not that old-fashioned, but some still insist on the old ways. But no, I am not spoken for as you suggest.”

“And I have no other intentions or motives other than to protect you.”

It was odd to be giving this type of discussion while five enemy ships with guessable intentions were nearby. I was sure the General and his team were in their element formulating attack plans, the first military operation in outer space.

It was the stuff of legends and names on high schools.

“The new arrivals have made their intentions clear. They want you to take you to their version of safety. They claim you are a Princess from Krulaxl.”

“They would be correct. But that planet and people have been crushed and annexed by the Foroi, do they are pretending to be something they are not “

“Not a chance they are the resistance if the original citizens of Krulaxl could fight back?”

“It would be highly unlikely. At the time of the invasion, we were much like the equivalent to the stone age man on your planet versus your people in the 20th century.”

I had a hard time visualising her in a stone age dress. Or perhaps that was unwise. Like others from this galaxy, she had a very persuasive manner and was someone who was used to getting what she wanted.

“Have you considered my suggestion?”

“To join the crew?”

“Or I could be so much more for you.”

It took a moment to read between the lines, and it was disconcerting. Was this also a trait of these people?

“If I have given you any reason to think that my intentions were anything other than honourable, I apologise. It simply isn’t the case.”

“You don’t like me?”

“It not a matter of whether I like you or not, it is a matter of propriety, and as Captain, I have to set an example. That might not happen on your planet, but it does on mine.”

“Then I am sorry. I meant no disrespect. It’s just a more preferable option than leaving this ship.”

“Staying here might cause a great many deaths to my people and I have to weigh that up against what may or may not be best for you.”

“If I go with either of them, more of my people will die, one way or another.”

The very definition of being between a rock and a hard place.

“Then how do we resolve this problem? If I agree to let you stay on this ship you have to prove to me you have a purpose.”

“Perhaps I could mediate a truce between the peoples of our worlds. It’s clear to me that if the Krulaxl need me, if that’s why they’re here, then their uprising needs a figurehead, a reason to continue. And if the Foroi is here, they know the battle is slipping. It may present an opportunity to increase your profile and your planet.”

“You do realise the moment you leave this room they will take you off the ship.”

“Not if they are forced to come here.”

An interesting thought.

“It’s an interesting scenario. I’ll be back.”

…

“Opposites Attract” – The Editor’s first draft – Day 25

This book was the effort put into the last NaNoWriMo November 2023 exercise. I have now picked it back up, and working on a more polished first draft for the Editor.

…

Facing the music

…

With the altercation at the bar spreading like fire through a tinder-dry forest, our boy goes home to see Darcy.

Yes, she already knew what was going on, and no she’s not happy, and yes, she is overjoyed that our boy will be marrying Emily.

Talk about mercurial relatives.

Then there’s that little gathering that Darcy has arranged where he can get roasted for his sins.

And from one person in particular, Xavier, who positively hates her and all her friends.

Like our boy, he had been treated badly by the girl and her friends, and having someone who was her friend wasn’t going to improve his lot. But he did agree to be the best man.

It was not going to be a late night.

The next morning there’s a mission, he has to go and see shotgun Annie.

Yes, you heard it right, shotgun Annie.

Tim’s staunchest female ally, but there is a problem. Just another of many he has to get past.

…

The bane of our existence: social media

I’m back to writing, sitting at the desk, pad in front of me, pen in hand.

The only thing lacking is an idea.

It’s 9:03 am, too early to start on a six-pack.

I need a distraction.

Blogging, websites, Twitter, and Facebook, all of these social media problems are swirling around in my mind.

The more I read the more it bothers me that if I don’t have the right social media presence if I do not start to build an email list, all of my efforts in writing a book will come to naught.

Then I start trawling the internet for information on marketing and found a plethora of people offering any amount of advice for anything between a ‘small amount’ to a rather large amount that gives comprehensive coverage of most social media platforms for periods of a day, a week or a month. I don’t have a book so it’s a bit early to be worrying about that.

I move on to the people who offer advice for a cost on how to build a following, how to build a web presence, how to get a thousand Twitter followers, and how to get thousands of email followers before the launch.

The trouble is I’m writing a novel, not a nonfiction book, or have some marvellous 30 page ebook on how to do something, for free just to drive people to my site.

I’m a novelist, not a handyman so those ideas while good are not going to help me.

Yet another problem to wrestle with along with actually creating a product to sell in the first place.

Except I’m supposed to be writing for the love of it without the premeditated idea of writing for gain or getting rich quick.

What am I missing here?

So should l be writing short stories and offering them for free to drive people to my site? These would have to be genre-specific so it needs time and effort and fit into a convenient size story that will highlight or showcase my talent.

Or should I create a website for the novel and set up pages for the characters and get some interaction going that way?

It will be difficult without giving the whole plot away so if I do it will have to be carefully managed.

I don’t think I will have a good night’s sleep again with all of these social media problems I’m going to have.

Oh well, back to the book. It’s time to have a nightmare of a different sort!

“Echoes From The Past”, the past doesn’t necessarily stay there

What happens when your past finally catches up with you?

…

Christmas is just around the corner, a time to be with family. For Will Mason, an orphan since he was fourteen, it is a time for reflection on what his life could have been, and what it could be.

Until a chance encounter brings back to life the reasons for his twenty years of self-imposed exile from a life only normal people could have. From that moment Will’s life slowly starts to unravel and it’s obvious to him it’s time to move on.

This time, however, there is more at stake.

Will has broken his number one rule, don’t get involved.

With his nemesis, Eddie Jamieson, suddenly within reach, and a blossoming relationship with an office colleague, Maria, about to change everything, Will has to make a choice. Quietly leave, or finally, make a stand.

But as Will soon discovers, when other people are involved there is going to be terrible consequences no matter what choice he makes.

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