Category: Author

‘Sunday in New York’ – A beta reader’s view

I’m not a fan of romance novels but …

There was something about this one that resonated with me.

This is a novel about a world generally ruled by perception, and how people perceive what they see, what they are told, and what they want to believe.

I’ve been guilty of it myself, as I’m sure we all have at one time or another.

For the main characters, Harry and Alison, other issues are driving their relationship.

For Alison, it is a loss of self-worth through losing her job and from losing her mother and, in a sense, her sister.

For Harry, it is the fact that he has a beautiful and desirable wife, his belief that she is the object of other men’s desires, and, in particular, his immediate superior’s.

Between observation, the less-than-honest motives of his friends, a lot of jumping to conclusions based on very little fact, and you have the basis of one very interesting story.

When it all comes to a head, Alison finds herself in a desperate situation, and she realises only the truth will save their marriage.

But is it all the truth?

What would we do in similar circumstances?

Rarely does a book have me so enthralled that I could not put it down until I knew the result. They might be considered two people who should have known better, but as is often the case, they had to get past what they both thought was the truth.

And the moral of this story, if it could be said there is one, is that nothing is ever what it seems.

…

Available on Amazon here: amzn.to/2H7ALs8

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 23

Day 23 – The subtle art of getting a message across

…

The Subtle Art of Getting a Message Across

(And Why You Should Stop Preaching to the Converted)

If you’ve ever read a post, an op‑ed, or a social‑media thread that felt more like a sermon than a conversation, you know the feeling: the message lands in a vacuum, heard only by those who already agree, while everyone else scrolls past, rolls their eyes, or—worst of all—writes back with a snarky “thanks, Captain Obvious.”

It’s a common trap for writers, marketers, and anyone trying to influence opinions: preaching to the converted. You assume your audience already shares your worldview, and you end up sounding like a church bulletin rather than a compelling storyteller. The result? Your ideas get stuck in an echo chamber, your reach stalls, and the people who could benefit most from your insight remain untouched.

In this post, we’ll explore:

  1. Why preaching to the converted is a dead‑end.
  2. How to spot the symptoms in your own writing.
  3. Practical techniques for widening your net without diluting your voice.
  4. A quick checklist to keep you honest.

Let’s turn that echo chamber into a lively town square.

1. The Hidden Cost of Talking to the Choir

What It Looks LikeWhy It Fails
“All true leaders know X, Y, and Z. If you’re still doing A, you’re obviously clueless.”Assumes agreement – readers who don’t already see themselves as “leaders” feel dismissed.
“As we all know, climate change is real, and we must act now.”No invitation – skeptics are met with a wall of affirmation, not a door to dialogue.
“If you love productivity hacks, you’ll love this new framework.”Self‑selection bias – you’re preaching to an audience that already bought into the premise.

The core problem is audience mismatch. When you talk only to those who already nod along, you:

  • Limit impact – only a fraction of the potential readers engage.
  • Reinforce tribalism – echo chambers tighten, making it harder to bridge divides.
  • Waste energy – perfecting a sermon for a crowd that’s already convinced feels like polishing a trophy you’ll never win.

The antidote? Write as if you’re inviting a stranger into a conversation, not delivering a lecture to a congregation.

2. Diagnose Your Own Writing: Are You Preaching?

a. The “We All Know” Test

If you can replace “we all know” with “some people think,” you’ve probably slipped into preaching.

Original: “We all know that the best way to boost ROI is by cutting costs.”
Revised: “Many marketers believe that cutting costs can boost ROI, but there are other angles worth exploring.”

b. The “Assumed Identity” Check

Ask yourself: Does my reader already identify as X? If the answer is “no,” you need to re‑frame.

Original: “If you’re a seasoned entrepreneur, you already understand the power of pivoting.”
Revised: “Even if you’re just starting out, the concept of pivoting can be a game‑changer.”

c. The “Zero‑Tolerant” Scale

Do you use absolutes like “always,” “never,” “must,” or “should” without qualification? Absolutes tend to alienate.

Original: “You must stop using email for lead generation.”
Revised: “Consider whether email is the best tool for your current lead‑generation goals.”

If any of these red flags light up, you’re on the preaching‑to‑the‑converted track.

3. How to Speak to the Unconverted (Without Selling Out)

1. Start With Curiosity, Not Conviction

Instead of stating the conclusion first, pose a question that acknowledges the reader’s perspective.

Preachy: “The truth is, remote work kills collaboration.”
Curious: “What impact does remote work have on collaboration, and how can teams preserve synergy?”

2. Use Stories as Bridges

Stories are the universal language. Show, don’t tell. A personal anecdote or a case study with relatable characters invites empathy, even from sceptics.

Example: “When I first tried the Pomodoro technique, I was skeptical. After three weeks, I realized it helped me finish my thesis without the usual midnight panic. Here’s how you can adapt it for any project.”

3. Offer Evidence, Not Edicts

Give data, cite sources, and explain the reasoning behind your claim. Let the reader see the logic rather than being handed a verdict.

Instead of: “SEO is dead.”
Try: “Recent studies from Moz and Ahrefs show a 30% decline in organic traffic for sites that ignore user intent. Here’s what that means for your SEO strategy.”

4. Invite the Reader to Test the Idea

A call to experiment rather than a command lowers defensiveness.

“Try swapping your usual morning coffee for a 10‑minute walk. Track your focus for a week and see if you notice any difference.”

5. Acknowledge Counterarguments

Show that you understand the other side. A brief, respectful nod to opposing views builds credibility.

“Some argue that rapid iteration leads to sloppy products. While that’s a valid concern, incorporating a lightweight QA step can keep quality high without sacrificing speed.”

6. Use Inclusive Language

Words like “we,” “us,” and “together” can be powerful—but only when they truly include the reader. Pair them with clarifying qualifiers.

“We—whether you’re a freelancer or part of a large corporation—face the same challenge of balancing creativity with deadlines.”

4. The One‑Minute Checklist Before Publishing

✅ CheckWhat to Look For
Audience GapHave I assumed the reader already agrees?
Open‑Ended IntroDoes the opening pose a question or scenario?
Story > StatementIs there at least one anecdote or case study?
EvidenceDo I cite data, sources, or personal experiments?
InvitationHave I encouraged the reader to try something?
CounterpointHave I respectfully acknowledged an opposing view?
Inclusive LanguageDoes “we” really include them, not just me?

If you can answer “yes” to every line, you’ve likely avoided preaching to the choir.

5. A Mini‑Exercise: Rewrite a Preachy Paragraph

Original (Preachy):

“If you’re serious about personal finance, you must start budgeting today. Anyone who doesn’t track every dollar is basically throwing money away.”

Revised (Conversational):

“Wondering how to get a better handle on your money? Many people find that tracking their spending—whether through a simple spreadsheet or an app—offers surprising insights. Give it a try for a week and see where your dollars actually go; you might be surprised by the small changes that add up.”

Notice the shift from imperative to suggestion, the inclusion of a low‑bar entry point, and the invitation to experiment.

6. Closing Thought: Influence Is a Conversation, Not a Sermon

The most persuasive writing feels less like a lecture hall and more like a coffee‑shop chat where both parties leave a little wiser. By recognising the echo chamber, checking our assumptions, and crafting content that invites curiosity, we can reach new audiences without compromising our core message.

Next time you sit down to write, ask yourself: Am I preaching, or am I inviting? The answer will determine whether your words echo in a closed room or ripple across a broader community.

Happy writing—and may your messages travel farther than the choir they were meant for.

Preaching to the converted limits reach and reinforces echo chambers.

  • Spot the habit with “we all know,” assumed identities, and absolutes.
  • Replace them with curiosity, stories, evidence, experiments, and respectful counterpoints.
  • Use the one‑minute checklist before you hit “publish.”

Your audience is waiting—just open the door.

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 eye socket to mouth, and who was also wearing a black shirt with a red tie.

That was all I remembered as my heart almost stopped.

He apologized 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 recognize 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 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 tires.

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.

At the 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 realized 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; 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 by the back door if it had one.

Just in case.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

newechocover5rs

In a word: Green

Of course, it is a colour, one used for traffic lights, grass, and a lot of different shades.

It’s made up of blue and yellow, adjusting the amounts of each to get the shade you want.

I once had a dark green suit.

I don’t have any green emeralds.

When you get a green light, it means to go ahead, or just go, in traffic, or for the starting of a project

And a green run on the ski fields denotes the easiest run – just about my level!

Green with envy, yes, though I’m not sure why they picked green for envy

In England especially, green is a patch of grassy land, usually in the middle of a village

A green worker is one that is new to the job, and usually gets all the rotten jobs

Then there is the biggest money-spinner of all time: going green, which means eco-friendly.

I have only one question, why is it to go ‘green’ is to charge far more than normal

Oh, and by the way, political parties that are eco-centric are usually called the greens

And, these are the same people who chain themselves to trees, deterring bulldozers

The blue sea is really green, believe it or not!

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 discrete 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 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 footfall 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 where he went.

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 2019-2021

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

InspirationMaybe1v1

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 45

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…

——

A second report from Blinky’s surveillance of the castle had Leonardo on the move, and a second shadowy person following them.

It had to be Jackerby, Atherton thought.  Jackerby would be the only one who didn’t trust anyone, or, perhaps, he had more murderous intentions.  Maybe he had worked out that Leonardo was rapidly becoming a liability.

Or he had some other agenda.

“How many of resistance are waiting at the barn?” Atherton asked the soldier.

“Four.  The fifth went to find them.”

“OK.  Carlo, take some of the soldiers and stop them.”

He grinned.  At last.

“I’ll deal with the other man.” I whistled and Jack came over.  “We have a job to do, Jack.”  He had no idea what I was saying, but his enthusiasm was obvious.

“Taking any prisoners,” Blinky asked.

“If the situation warrants it, but if the fire on us, we fire back.”

“And, once that’s done?”

“We retake the castle.”

“Sounds a bit like a story out of a Boys Own annual.”

“It does.  It’ll certainly make a good story to tell your grandchildren one day.”

“If we make it back.”

“We will.  If we’re careful and don’t take unnecessary risks.  I won’t be bringing a prisoner back.  If it’s Jackerby, I have a score to settle with him.”

“Don’t let revenge cloud your judgment.”

“I won’t.  See you soon.”

When we reached the woods, on the opposite side of the castle, I planned to come at Jackaby from an angle he would not be expecting anyone.

From the moment we entered the woods, Jack went into what I would call stealth mode as if he was hunting.  In a sense he was, and perhaps he knew instinctively what we were looking for.

It took about a half-hour of carefully moving through the woods to get to a point where I could just see Jackerby, sitting beside a tree, watching the barn.  I moved a little closer, and the change of angle brought Leonardo and two other men of the resistance, sitting behind the barn, and one of sentry duty, waiting for the fifth to return.

I turned back to see where Jack was, but he had gone off.  A rabbit perhaps, or something else.

I moved closer; Jackerby’s attention was fully on the resistance members, so he would not hear me coming.

What was he doing?  He was taking an enormous risk coming out of the castle alone or did he think that if I was clever enough to have the castle under surveillance, he could assume I might be stupid enough to follow him.

It was an interesting thought, broken by the sudden rustling through the undergrowth, and then a yelp, as Jack launched himself at Jackerby, taking him completely by surprise, then, when Jackeby tried to get a gun in hand, Jack attacked that hand.

Long enough for me to get there, gun in hand.  “Stop resisting, or I’m sure Jack will do some serious damage to that hand.”

It looked serious enough to me.

“So, this is where you’re hiding?”

“Enough, Jack.”

Curiously, the dog stopped, but remained menacingly close, growling.

“I should have shot that dog when I had the chance.”

Jack moved forward and growled in his face, baring his teeth, and Jackerby shrank back.

“Don’t upset him.  He obviously doesn’t like you.”

Our attention was interrupted by gunfire, and a glance over to the barn saw two men with their hands up against the wall, and the two on the ground, including Leonardo.   Carlo was in the process of ‘interrogating’ the other two.

“Carlo is not a happy man, Jackerby.  And I promised him five minutes alone with you.”

Another glance over at the barn, Carlo was kicking one of the men who had fallen on the ground, with enthusiasm.  I didn’t rate the man’s chances of surviving.  “You really shouldn’t have let Leonardo mistreat Chiara or Martina, wherever you’ve got her.”

“She is still alive.  We can do a deal here, Atherton.”

“The trouble I have with anything you say is that I can’t believe you.  I’m sure you’d say or do anything to stay alive and renege the moment you got back to the castle.”

“I give you my word as an officer.  We are, like you, men of honor.”

I shook my head.  “You’re Gestapo, or worse, Jackerby.  And they, as far as I’m concerned, are the lowest of the low, little more than murderous thugs.  No.”

I aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

The only way Jackerby was leaving the woods was as dead weight.

——-

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 9

…

I remeber once being told that if you shoot for the moon, you’ll land in the clouds, if you shoot for the tree tops, you’ll finish up back where you started from.

It was a silly analogy, but I always remembered it when I looked up at the sky and saw clouds.

That was back in those hazy carefree days just after you were finished with school and you had your whole life in front of you. Your parents were there as the safety net, and were still proud of your scholastic achievements, and were not in too much of a hurry to hustle you out of the house.

But what happened when there’s a recession that came upon everyone without any warning.

Stocks plummeted, people lost their life’s savings, those with mortgages and loans suddenly finding that along with unemployment came no income, no ability to pay the bills, and therefore lost everything.

Although I never said it, I was thinking what good was an education when the whole world had gone to hell in a handbasket.

Two things I remember from back then, which in the context of disaster, wasn’t all that long ago. Firstly, my father making us children go camping from before we could walk, and with it, to survive with nothing but the clothes on our backs, and our wits.

It had happened to him, as a member of am expedition in Africa in his younger days, thinking that he might become the next great explorer, or archeologist, and finishing up getting lost, even though he asserted the other members had deliberately left him behind.

And secondly, that it was essential that we forge working relationships with any and all those who were like minded, such as those who wanted to be saved, not those who expected everyone else to so the work. It was obvious he had met a lot of those type of people too.

It served us well.

When nations began turning on each other, when essential resources like electricity and fuel stopped being distributed and rationed, when food suddenly became scarce, that’s when the real trouble started. My father said, at the outset, what would happen, and was glad our mother was not there to see it.

Then, when neighbours attacked neighbours once food became scarce, it was time to leave. The pity of it was, he died defending us, even after offering up some of the food we had stored away, but that had not appeased a hungry or angry mob.

His last words, “Go to where we said we would go, and remember everything I’ve taught you” were etched in my brain, and my brother and I did as he asked.

But, even knowing where we had to go, and how to get there, a plan of action made many years before, and trialled in recent years with success, nothing in the past could have prepared us for the journey.

It was, literally, time to shoot for the moon.

—

© Charles Heath 2021

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 28

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Chasing leads, maybe

…

It was rather an anti-climax to see the cat, Herman, come slinking out of the bedroom, down the passage, and then stop just at the edge of the room to look at the visitors.

He must have been hiding in her room all this time, and when he’d heard the door close, he thought it was safe to come out.

Jan saw him and held out her hand, “Come on, Herman, you’re safe now.”

He didn’t seem to agree and sat down just back of that invisible line in the sand that he wasn’t, yet going to step over.

But he did meow a few times, just to let us know he wasn’t pleased.

“Now that you’ve seen the cat, what were you thinking might be of significance?”

“I don’t know.  The fact he considered the cat his might have been significant in some way.”

Herman was back on his paws and taking tentative steps towards Jan.  Each time he stopped, he looked sideways at me, waiting.  Perhaps he thought I might attack him.  It would be the other way around.

“Doesn’t trust me, does he?”

He took a step back at the sound of my voice.

“Don’t listen to him Herman, you’re safe here with me.”

He looked at her, the same expression on his face he gave me.  Talk about the original poker face.  I doubt anyone could guess what he was thinking.  

A few more steps, then about a yard away he stopped again and sat.  He then spent the next few minutes looking at me.  Was this a test to see who blinked first?  I knew who would win that contest.  Not me.

Jan moved slightly and he jumped, and moved back several steps, looking warily at us both now.

“We’re not going to win him over, are we?”

“Maybe, maybe not.  There are a bowl and some food in the other room.  Put some in the bowl and bring it to me.”

Ah, the way to a cat’s heart is through his stomach.  I think the only thing relevant to that statement was that he was male.  I did as she asked, handed her the bowl, and resumed my position, far enough away for him not to consider me a threat.

He watched me leave the room and return again, and I think he recognized the bowl, and that we were about to trick him into submission.

She put the bowl down next to her and patted the floor.

“It’s your favourite, Herman.”

Yes, head movements, and was he sniffing to see if he could recognize what was in the bowl?  Maybe he was hungry after being hidden away.  Would starvation overcome a fear of strangers?

A minute later we had the answer.  He was hungry and tentatively came over before smelling what was in the bowl before starting to eat.

Jan patted him.

“Works every time,” she said.

Both of us realized at the same time that Herman had a collar, slightly lost in the fur.  And she had the same idea as I did, that the collar might be significant.

She removed it as gently as she could without startling him, and then looked at it, around the outside, and then on the inside, and a sudden change of expression told me she found something.

“VS P4 L324.  What do you think that means?” she asked?

“Whatever it is, it’s a reminder that’s significant to O’Connell, or it is a message to someone if anything happened to him.  I expect that might mean it was a message to you.  You shared the cat so, clearly, he thought at some point in time you would look.”

“If he was expecting me to decipher it, then he must have seen something in me that I can’t.”

“You would work it out in time.  The point is if he hid that in plain sight, believing that if anyone came, they would take no notice of the car, then what else might he have hidden.  Does the cat have a bed?

“Not at his place, he used to sleep at the end of his bed.  But I put out an old blanket.”

How did she know the cat slept on the end of O’Connell’s bed?  I wasn’t going to ask, but if they were more than just friends, perhaps he had confided some details of what he was doing.

“In your room?”

“In the spare room where you found the food.”

I went back to the room found the blanked tossed in a corner, put there by the person who searched her flat no doubt, because I couldn’t see the cat doing it, not unless he was extremely bad-tempered and had super cat powers to move objects multiple times heavier than he was.

I picked it up and immediately had cat hair on my clothes.  Good thing then I wasn’t allergic to cats.

Then, I had a feeling someone was watching me.  I was right, Herman had come back to see what I was doing.

“Just straightening it out for you,” I said.

The death stare didn’t change.  He just stood there looking at me.  Or was he looking through me at something else, like a ghost?  It was slightly unnerving.

I felt around the edges and suddenly, in the middle of one side, where the manufacturer’s label was, it felt like something was under it.  On closer examination, I could see the stitching had been removed for several inches in length and then crudely sewn it back together.  Inside what would be a pouch, I could feel something under the material, and with a little more twisting, I thought it might be a tag.

I’d seen a pair of scissors in the kitchen and came back to get them.  Jan was busy trying to position the wet part of the towel over her head.  After I’d finished with the blanket, I would fetch her some Panadol.

I gently cut the crude stitches and then wriggled the item out.  It was a card with a number on it, 324.  That was all that was printed on the card.  Not what it was, who it belonged to, or what it represented.  I went back into the room where the cat was now sitting on her leg.

“There was a card sewn into the blanket.  It has the number 324 on it.  That would make it…”

“… a check for a post box, or safety deposit box, or a storage locker.”

Not exactly what I was going to say, but close enough.

Then she said, “It’s the same number on the collar.  L324.  Locker 324.  Somewhere defined by VS and P4.”

“Do you have a computer?”

“Not here.  Do you?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll go into the office and use one of theirs.  I assume you can do the same?”

I could, but I wasn’t quite sure what or who would be waiting for me,, now that I knew I couldn’t trust Nobbin.

“To be honest, I don’t think it’s safe for me.  It’s probably better if I don’t, not until I can find out who is who.”

Either of the two, Nobbin or Severin could be on the wrong side, maybe even both of them.  I was surprised that Severin didn’t drag me off when he came for Maury.  Perhaps I was still useful to him in the field as a second string to finding the USB.

I helped her to stand.  

“No time like the present.  I’ll let you know what I find if anything.  Are you going to stay here?” she asked.  

“No.  Severin knows about this place and might come back.  We’re done here.  I’ll make sure the cat gets out.  I don’t think you should come back here unless you have to.”

“Then I’ll see you at the hotel.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2023

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 22

Day 22 – Using better words

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Elevate Your Writing: Replacing Overused Words With Purpose (Without Sounding Like You’re Trying Too Hard)

Introduction:
Let’s face it: words like “good,” “bad,” “very,” and “thing” are writing crutches. We use them when our mental thesaurus hits a roadblock. But overused words don’t just make your prose feel lazy—they can also turn a compelling idea into a bland blur. The secret to engaging writing isn’t about stringing together the most obscure vocabulary (though a sprinkle of that can help). It’s about choosing words that work harder for you. This isn’t about sounding clever—just clearer, more vivid, and authentically thoughtful.

Why We Fall into the “Word Rut”

We all do it. When we’re tired, stressed, or simply in a hurry, our brains default to the most familiar tools at hand. But just like using “very” to spice up a basic adjective, slapping a thesaurus-derived word onto a sentence for the sake of it doesn’t elevate your message. In fact, it can backfire. Ever read a sentence that feels like someone dressed their words up for a party, but the content wasn’t invited to? That’s what happens when you prioritise sound over meaning.

5 Common Words to Upgrade (With Examples That Don’t Sound Forced)

  1. “Good” → Be Specific
    • Overused: “This was a good movie.”
    • Better: “The film was hauntingly atmospheric, with a plot that lingered long after the credits rolled.”
      Why it works: Instead of using a vague adjective, focus on sensory details or emotional impact. Replace “good” with descriptors like “compelling,” “nuanced,” or “luminous.”
  2. “Bad” → Explain How or Why
    • Overused: “The policy is bad for the environment.”
    • Better: “The policy exacerbates deforestation by relaxing critical regulatory safeguards.”
      Why it works: Specificity shows you’ve analysed the issue, not just thrown out an opinion. Words like “harmful,” “detrimental,” or “counterproductive” can anchor your argument.
  3. “Very” → Use Stronger Adjectives
    • Overused: “I was very frustrated by the delay.”
    • Better: “The delay left me seething with irritation.”
      Why it works: Adverbs like “very” often highlight weak adjectives. Replace the pair with a punchier verb or descriptor: “absurd,” “exasperating,” or “unacceptable.”
  4. “Thing” → Know What You Mean
    • Overused: “There are a few things to consider here.”
    • Better: “Several key factors demand attention: budget constraints, team capacity, and timeline realism.”
      Why it works: “Thing” is a placeholder for ideas you haven’t fully fleshed out yet. Replace it by naming what’s actually important.
  5. “Stuff” → Be Exact
    • Overused: “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do.”
    • Better: “I need to finalise the report, schedule client calls, and prepare for tomorrow’s presentation.”
      Why it works: Specificity builds credibility. If “stuff” is unavoidably casual, try “tasks,” “materials,” or “details,” depending on context.

How to Use Better Words Without Falling into the “Try-Hard” Trap

  1. Know Your Audience: A research paper deserves technical precision; a text to your friend calling off lunch doesn’t.
  2. Write First, Polish Later: Let your ideas flow in the first draft. Use more precise language during revisions.
  3. Read Aloud, Then Edit: Awkward phrasing sticks out when you hear it. Trim any word that feels like it’s showing off.
  4. Learn Through Context: Read authors whose style you admire. Notice how they balance simplicity and flair.

The Final Word

Using better words isn’t about impressing anyone—just about expressing yourself more clearly, honestly, and vividly. It’s about caring enough to let your voice be distinct, not generic. So the next time you catch yourself typing “good,” “bad,” or “stuff,” pause. Ask: What am I really trying to say? Then choose a word that does the heavy lifting. Your readers—and your writing—will thank you.

P.S. Need a quick fix? Keep a list of go-to replacements handy (think: exceptional, nuanced, detrimental, nuanced, pragmatic). But remember: the best word is still the one that feels right for the moment.

If I only had one day to stop over in – Vienna – what would I do?

One Day in Vienna: A Symphony of Splendour at Schönbrunn Palace

Vienna is a city of emperors, composers, and unparalleled grandeur—a place where history, art, and music intertwine. But if you’re stuck with a one-day stopover, how do you choose just one place to visit? Amid the city’s iconic attractions, Schönbrunn Palace rises as the perfect answer. This UNESCO World Heritage Site is more than a palace; it’s a portal to the opulence of the Habsburg Empire and a living testament to Vienna’s legacy. Here’s how to make the most of your day in this majestic setting.

Why Schönbrunn? A Journey Through Time and Taste

Nestled in the heart of Vienna’s 11th district, Schönbrunn Palace served as the summer residence of the Habsburg dynasty for centuries. Its name, which means Beautiful Spring, nods to the natural spring discovered by a shepherd in the 11th century. By the 17th century, it had transformed into a Baroque masterpiece under the direction of Emperor Leopold I. The palace’s grandeur is matched only by its history: it witnessed imperial triumphs, the horrors of WWI, and the resilience of Austrian culture.

Walking through its gates, you’re instantly transported into a world of gilded halls, stately gardens, and stories whispered in marble corridors. Whether you’re a history buff, an art lover, or a seeker of beauty, Schönbrunn offers layers of experience that resonate with every visitor.

The Highlights: A Gilded Itinerary

1. The Grand Tour of the Palace
Start with the Imperial Apartments, where the Habsburgs lived and ruled. The opulent rooms—like the Mirrors Hall and the Kleiner Prunksaal—showcase the dynasty’s wealth and taste. Don’t miss the intricate frescoes, Venetian chandeliers, and the Schönbrunn Silver Museum, home to over 6000 pieces of exquisite tableware.

2. The Gloriette: A Garden’s Jewel
No visit is complete without ascending to the Gloriette, the garden’s crowning glory. This neoclassical pavilion, framed by 500 sculpted cypress trees, offers panoramic views of the city. The surrounding Parc de la Thomayer is a tranquil spot to take a break, its geometric pathways and fountains a nod to Versailles.

3. The Baroque Gardens
Spanning 180,000 square meters, the gardens are a masterclass in design. Walk through the Esterházy Gate into “Maria Therese’s Garden,” where flowerbeds bloom in vibrant symmetry. Stop by the Orangery, once vital for protecting tropical plants in winter, or the Children’s Zoo, where a mirror maze adds whimsy to the imperial ambience.

Practical Tips for a Perfect Day

  • Skip the Line: Book tickets in advance to avoid long waits, especially on weekends.
  • Timing is Everything: Arrive early to maximise your time. A full visit to the palace and gardens can take 3–4 hours; allow extra if you stroll the gardens thoroughly.
  • Guided Tours or Self-Guided? Opt for a guided Palatine Tour (45 minutes) for context, then explore on your own.
  • Grab a Coffee Break: The Palace Café serves classic Austrian pastries and coffee. For a more hidden gem, stop by Café Gloriette in the gardens for light bites with a view.

Why Schönbrunn Makes the Day Memorable

Schönbrunn is the essence of Vienna in one location. It’s where history breathes in frescoed walls and where nature dances in meticulously designed gardens. As the sun sets, casting golden light on the palace’s façade, you’ll understand why this place remains the heartbeat of Austria’s imperial past.

In just a day, Schönbrunn offers a narrative of power, artistry, and human ambition. It’s a place where even fleeting moments feel eternal, and where you’ll leave with not just photos, but a sense of wonder. For a one-day stopover, there’s no better choice to make Vienna unforgettable.

Schönbrunn Palace is open daily from 9:00 AM to 6:30 PM (season-dependent). For more details, visit www.schoenbrunn.at.

What would you do with a day in Vienna? Let us know in the comments!

📸 Pro Tip: Bring a camera—every corner of Schönbrunn is a postcard waiting to be snapped.