Category: blogging

The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation. Β I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample. Β I was going to give them the re-worked short story. Β Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself. Β We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and there were apartment buildings shimmering in the street light, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected. Β I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party. Β I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble. Β No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

Get it here:Β  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

newechocover5rs

In a word: Prize

What you win, first prize in a raffle, though I don’t think I’ve ever won first prize.  Second maybe.  But, aren’t all raffles rigged?  

But despite my unfortunate run of luck, a prize is generally give to someone who works hard, or wins a race

Or I could have been a prize fighter but lacked the size and the strength, and out of curiosity how many prize fighters didn’t win a prize?

And if I had been a pirate, I could have sailed the seven seas to find a prize, namely a ship to attack and take as my own.

And as a prime example, a Chelsea supporter walking into a bar full of Manchester United fans could be called a prize idiot.

This is not to be confused with the word prise

Don’t relatives prise the last dollar out of a dying man’s hand?

Or prise the truth out of a witness, or a perpetrator

Or prise a window open like thieves do when we forget to lock them properly?

The first case of PI Walthenson – “A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers”

This case has everything, red herrings, jealous brothers, femme fatales, and at the heart of it all, greed.

See below for an excerpt from the book…

Coming soon!

PIWalthJones1

An excerpt from the book:

When Harry took the time to consider his position, a rather uncomfortable position at that, he concluded that he was somehow involved in another case that meant very little to him.

Not that it wasn’t important in some way he was yet to determine, it was just that his curiosity had got the better of him, and it had led to this: sitting in a chair, securely bound, waiting for someone one of his captors had called Doug.

It was not the name that worried him so much, it was the evil laugh that had come after the name was spoken.

Doug what? Doug the ‘destroyer’, Doug the ‘dangerous’, Doug the ‘deadly’; there was any number of sinister connotations, and perhaps that was the point of the laugh, to make it more frightening than it was.

But there was no doubt about one thing in his mind right then: he’d made a mistake. A very big. and costly, mistake. Just how big the cost, no doubt he would soon find out.

His mother, and his grandmother, the wisest person he had ever known, had once told him never to eavesdrop.

At the time he couldn’t help himself and instead of minding his own business, listening to a one-sided conversation which ended with a time and a place. The very nature of the person receiving the call was, at the very least, sinister, and, because of the cryptic conversation, there appeared to be, or at least to Harry, criminal activity involved.

For several days he had wrestled with the thought of whether he should go. Stay on the fringe, keep out of sight, observe and report to the police if it was a crime. Instead, he had willingly gone down the rabbit hole.

Now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, several heat lamps hanging over his head, he was perspiring, and if perspiration could be used as a measure of fear, then Harry’s fear was at the highest level.

Another runnel of sweat rolled into his left eye, and, having his hands tied, literally, it made it impossible to clear it. The burning sensation momentarily took his mind off his predicament. He cursed and then shook his head trying to prevent a re-occurrence. It was to no avail.

Let the stinging sensation be a reminder of what was right and what was wrong.

It was obvious that it was the right place and the right time, but in considering his current perilous situation, it definitely was the wrong place to be, at the worst possible time.

It was meant to be his escape, an escape from the generations of lawyers, what were to Harry, dry, dusty men who had been in business since George Washington said to the first Walthenson to step foot on American soil, ‘Why don’t you become a lawyer?” when asked what he could do for the great man.

Or so it was handed down as lore, though Harry didn’t think Washington meant it literally, the Walthenson’s, then as now, were not shy of taking advice.

Except, of course, when it came to Harry.

He was, Harry’s father was prone to saying, the exception to every rule. Harry guessed his father was referring to the fact his son wanted to be a Private Detective rather than a dry, dusty lawyer. Just the clothes were enough to turn Harry off the profession.

So, with a little of the money Harry inherited from one of his aunts, he leased an office in Gramercy Park and had it renovated to look like the Sam Spade detective agency, you know the one, Spade and Archer, and The Maltese Falcon.

There’s a movie and a book by Dashiell Hammett if you’re interested.

So, there it was, painted on the opaque glass inset of the front door, ‘Harold Walthenson, Private Detective’.

There was enough money to hire an assistant, and it took a week before the right person came along, or, more to the point, didn’t just see his business plan as something sinister. Ellen, a tall cool woman in a long black dress, or so the words of a song in his head told him, fitted in perfectly.

She’d seen the movie, but she said with a grin, Harry was no Humphrey Bogart.

Of course not, he said, he didn’t smoke.

Three months on the job, and it had been a few calls, no ‘real’ cases, nothing but missing animals, and other miscellaneous items. What he really wanted was a missing person. Or perhaps a beguiling, sophisticated woman who was as deadly as she was charming, looking for an errant husband, perhaps one that she had already β€˜dispatched’.

Or for a tall, dark and handsome foreigner who spoke in riddles and in heavily accented English, a spy, or perhaps an assassin, in town to take out the mayor. The man was such an imbecile Harry had considered doing it himself.

Now, in a back room of a disused warehouse, that wishful thinking might be just about to come to a very abrupt end, with none of the romanticized trappings of the business befalling him. No beguiling women, no sinister criminals, no stupid policemen.

Just a nasty little man whose only concern was how quickly or how slowly Harry’s end was going to be.

…

Β© Charles Heath 2019-2024

“Trouble in Store” – Short Stories My Way:Β  The re-write – Part 1

Now that I’ve gone through the story and made quite a few changes, it’s time to look at the story

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Another long day, another argument, always the same one, when were they going to move to a more ‘desirable’ neighbourhood?

OK, the neighbourhood was a little more downmarket than they expected, and the landlord could do more to make the apartments more livable, but it was as much as they could afford in the inner city area.

But Chelsea kept arguing for the fact their lives would be better and she would feel safer if they moved to New Jersey.Β  It would mean being much closer to her parents, and it meant a longer trip to the office.

Rather than get into a more heated discussion, which always came back to her parents, he stormed out slamming the door behind him.

Now out on the street, it was very cold, and in his temper forgetting to collect his coat.Β  There was no going back, not until he calmed down.

He could see the lights of the corner store on and headed towards it.Β  A six-pack would help soothe the nerves, and perhaps tell the shopkeeper his problems.Β  He had been in there a few times and the chap seemed amiable enough.

He crossed the road, quiet for this time of night, and pushed the door open, setting the bell that alerted the shopkeeper of a new arrival.

Something was wrong.

Jack was looking down the barrel of a gun.

He’d seen the girl holding the gun several times and knew she lived in their apartment block, closer to the ground floor.Β  She had seemed pleasant if not a little out of place, but quite a few people who once had money were down in their luck.

He had thought she was in the same situation.

Then his eyes strayed to the floor beside her, just as the door shut with a bang putting everyone on edge.Β  Except the man on the floor whom he recognized as her boyfriend.

They’d spoken once and Jack didn’t like him.Β  Chelsea said he was a meth junkie.Β  Sprawled on the floor curled up in an almost fetal position, he didn’t look very well.

Had she shot him?

A quick glance at the shopkeeper told him this might be an attempted armed robbery, but for what?

The guy on the floor either needed drugs or hospital care neither of which would be available at the point of a gun.

She looked nervous and the gun was wavering in her hand.

“Get in front of the counter and make sure you show me your hands.”Β  She motioned with the gun where she wanted him to stand.

He put his hands out where she could see them.Β  He wanted no trouble.

“What’s wrong with your friend on the floor?” Jack asked trying to keep his voice and manner calm.

“He isn’t my friend, not anymore.Β  Shit.”Β  She waved the gun at the shopkeeper and said in a slightly hysterical voice, “This is entirely your fault.”

…

Β© Charles Heath 2016-2024

Writing about writing a book – Day 2

Hang about.Β  Didn’t I read somewhere you need to plan your novel, create an outline, set the plot points, and flesh out the characters?

I’m sure it didn’t say, sit down and start writing!

Time to find a writing pad and put my thinking cap on.

I make a list, what’s the story going to be about? Who’s going to be in it, at least at the start?

Like a newspaper story, I need a who, what, when, where, and how.

Right now.

Β 

I pick up the pen.

Β 

Character number one:

Computer nerd, ok, that’s a little close to the bone, a computer manager who is trying to be everything at once, and failing.Β  Still me, but with a twist.Β  Now, add a little mystery to him, and give him a secret, one that will only be revealed after a specific set of circumstance.Β  Yes, I like that.

We’ll call him Bill, ex-regular army, a badly injured and repatriated soldier who was sent to fight a war in Vietnam, the result of which had made him, at times, unfit to live with.

He had a wife, which brings us to,

Character number two:

Ellen, Bill’s ex-wife, an army brat and a General’s daughter, and the result of one of those romances that met disapproval for so many reasons.Β  It worked until Bill came back from the war, and from there it slowly disintegrated.Β  There are two daughters, both by the time the novel begins, old enough to understand the ramifications of a divorce.

Character number three:

The man who is Bill’s immediate superior, the Services Department manager, a rather officious man who blindly follows orders, a man who takes pleasure in making others feel small and insignificant, and worst of all, takes the credit where none is due.

Oops, too much, that is my old boss.Β  He’ll know immediately I’m parodying him.Β  Tone it down, just a little, but more or less that’s him.Β  Last name Benton.Β  He will play a small role in the story.

Character number four:

Jennifer, the IT Department’s assistant manager, a woman who arrives in a shroud of mystery, and then, in time, to provide Bill with a shoulder to cry on when he and Ellen finally split, and perhaps something else later on.

More on her later as the story unfolds.

So far so good.

What’s the plot?

Huge corporation plotting to take over the world using computers?Β  No, that’s been done to death.

Huge corporation, OK, let’s stop blaming the corporate world for everything wrong in the world.Β  Corporations are not bad people; people are the bad people.Β  That’s a rip-off clichΓ©, from guns don’t kill people, people kill people!Β  There will be guns, and there will be dead people.

There will be people hiding behind a huge corporation, using a part of their computer network to move billions of illegally gained dollars around.Β  That’s better.

Now, having got that, our ‘hero’ has to β€˜discover’ this network, and the people behind it.

All we need now is to set the ball rolling, a single event that ‘throws a cat among the pigeons’.

Yes, Bill is on holiday, a welcome relief from the problems of work.Β  He dreams of what he’s going to do for the next two weeks.Β  The phone rings.Β  Benton is calling, the world is coming to an end, the network is down.Β  He’s needed.Β  A few terse words, but he relents.

Pen in hand, I begin to write.

…

Β© Charles Heath 2016-2025

The cinema of my dreams – I never wanted to go to Africa – Episode 1

There’s hanging around, and there’s hanging around

…

So, there I was, hanging half out of the helicopter, shooting a handgun at a truck speeding along a dirt track.

I know, what’s the effective range of a handgun?

The sound of the rotors was still deafening even with the earphones on and as I run out of bullets and was reaching for another clip, I heard a voice crackle in my ears.

“Some fool’s got a rocket launcher.”

That fool was trying to lean out the passenger side of the truck and aim the launcher at the helicopter.

The bucking and swaying of the vehicle nearly tipped him out onto the roadside, but something managed to anchor him, and he was taking aim.

“Now would be the time to peel away,” I said, not knowing if the pilot could hear me.

Our course didn’t deviate, so perhaps he hadn’t.

I calculated the distance between the helicopter and the ground, and the speed we were traveling.Β  Fast.Β  Short drop.Β  Quick landing.Β  Very painful.

In that moment I saw the rocket leave the launcher, I let go.

There was that instant where you feel disembodied and floating on air.Β  The same as that few seconds in free fall, just before pulling the rip cord of a parachute.

I hit the ground a rolled, not that I thought it would do much good, and the stopped, just before I lost consciousness.Β  Somewhere in front of me, there was a huge explosion, and then nothing.

Last thought, I hope the helicopter didn’t land on me.

…

Β© Charles Heath 2018 – 2023

Writing a book in 365 days – 265

Day 265

That subtle relationship between author and reader

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When you open a book and begin reading, it’s more than just you reading words; it’s about a subtle relationship you have with the author, and that what he or she writes resonates with you…

…

That’s a profound and very accurate observation. You’re highlighting the fundamental difference between simply processing information and engaging with literature.

This “subtle relationship” you describe can be broken down into a few key concepts in literary theory and reader response:

1. The Author-Reader Pact (Resonance)

When a reader connects with a text, it often feels like the author is speaking directly to them. This resonance occurs because the author has successfully:

  • Anticipated the Reader’s World: The author uses language, references, and emotional contexts that they expect the reader to understand and relate to.
  • Established a Voice: The author’s unique style, tone, and perspective shine through, creating an implied personality that the reader either trusts or finds intriguing. If the reader finds this voice authentic or compelling, they are more willing to follow the narrative and accept the author’s vision.
  • Invited Collaboration: The author intentionally leaves gaps, ambiguities, and “blanks” in the text. The reader fills these in using their own experiences, imagination, and knowledge, effectively becoming a co-creator of the story. This active participation strengthens the personal bond.

2. Empathy and Shared Human Experience

At its core, the relationship is built on empathy. Reading is an exercise in experiencing the world through another’s perspective. Even if the author is long dead or writes about fantastical events, the underlying emotionsβ€”joy, fear, loss, curiosityβ€”are universal and allow the reader to connect on a human level.

3. The Power of Intent

The act of writing for publication implies an intent to communicate, to be understood, or to persuade. The subtle relationship is the reader’s reception of that intent, even if they later disagree with the message. The author is saying, “Here is something I value and wish to share,” and the reader’s choice to engage is their acceptance of that invitation.

In short, it’s not just about what the author writes, but how their words make you feel, think, and ultimately understand yourself and the world a little differently.

Searching for locations: From Toronto, Canada to New York, USA

After arriving latish from Toronto, our arrival was not without its own problems. The room we were allocated was on the 22nd floor and was quite smallish. Not a surprise, but we needed space for three, and with the fold-out bed, it was tight but livable.

Except…

We needed the internet to watch the Maple Leafs ice hockey game. We’d arrive just in time to stream it to the tv.

But…

There was no internet. It was everywhere else in the hotel except our floor.

First, I went to the front desk and they directed me to call tech support.

Second, we called tech support and they told us that the 22nd-floor router had failed and would get someone to look at it.

When?

It turns out it didn’t seem to be a priority. Maybe no one else on the floor had complained

Third, I went downstairs and discussed the lack of progress with the night duty manager, expressing disappointment with the lack of progress.

I also asked if they could not provide the full service that I would like a room rate reduction or a privilege in its place as compensation.

He said he would check it himself.

Fourth, after no further progress, we called the front desk to advise there was still no internet. This time we were asked if we wanted a room on another floor, where the internet is working. We accepted the offer.

The end result, a slightly larger, less cramped room, and the ability to watch the last third of the Maple Leaf’s game. I can’t remember if we won.

We all went to bed reasonably happy.

After all, we didn’t have to get up early to go up or down to breakfast because it was not included in the room rate, a bone of contention considering the cost.

I’ll be booking with them directly next time, at a somewhat cheaper rate, a thing I find after using a travel wholesaler to book it for me.

As always every morning while Rosemary gets ready, I go out for a walk and check out where we are.

It seems we are practically in the heart of theaterland New York. Walk one way or the other you arrive at 7th Avenue or Broadway.

Walk uptown and you reach 42nd Street and Times Square, little more than a 10-minute leisurely stroll. On the way down Broadway, you pass a number of theatres, some recognizable, some not.

Times Square is still a huge collection of giant television screens advertising everything from confectionary to TV shows on the cable networks.

A short walk along 42nd street takes you to the Avenue of the Americas and tucked away, The Rockefeller center and its winter ice rink.

A few more steps take you to 5th Avenue and the shops like Saks of Fifth Avenue, shops you could one day hope to afford to buy something.

In the opposite direction, over Broadway and crossing 8th Avenue is an entrance to Central Park. The approach is not far from what is called the Upper West Side, home to the rich and powerful.

Walk one way in the park, which we did in the afternoon, takes you towards the gift shop and back along a labyrinth of laneways to 5th Avenue. It was a cold, but pleasant, stroll looking for the rich and famous, but, discovering, they were not foolish enough to venture out into the cold.

Before going back to the room, we looked for somewhere to have dinner and ended up in Cassidy’s Irish pub. There was a dining room down the back and we were one of the first to arrive for dinner service.

The first surprise, our waitress was from New Zealand.

The second, the quality of the food.

I had a dish called Steak Lyonnaise which was, in plain words, a form of mince steak in an elongated patty. It was cooked rare as I like my steak and was perfect. It came with a baked potato.

As an entree, we had shrimp, which in our part of the world are prawns, and hot chicken wings, the sauce is hot and served on the side.

The beer wasn’t bad either. Overall given atmosphere, service, and food, it’s a nine out of ten.

It was an excellent way to end the day.

What I learned about writing: An X (formerly Twitter) biography

What are the essentials for writing an X (formerly Twitter) boigraphy

…

The X (formerly Twitter) bio is your digital elevator pitch. It has a strict limit of 160 characters, so every word and symbol must count.

The most essential elements for an effective X biography focus on telling visitors who you are, what you offer, and what they should do next.

Here are the key essentials:

1. The Core Information (Who & What)

  • Your Value Proposition: Immediately state what you do, what you tweet about, or the benefit people get from following you. Don’t just list your job title, but explain the impact.
    • Bad: Digital Marketing Specialist
    • Good: Helping small businesses decode SEO and grow their online presence.
  • Keywords: Use terms related to your industry or niche (e.g., #FinTech, Data Science, Fantasy Author) to make your profile searchable.

2. Personality and Trust

  • Show Your Personality: Inject your unique voice, whether it’s professional, witty, humorous, or inspiring. This makes you memorable.
    • Example: “I write books about dragons πŸ‰ and argue with people about coffee β˜•.”
  • Social Proof (Humble Brag): Briefly mention a notable achievement to build credibility.
    • Examples: TEDx Speaker, 10K+ Followers, Host of Top 10 Podcast, Featured in Forbes.

3. The Call-to-Action (CTA)

  • Direct the Next Step: Every great bio should tell the visitor what to do. Use a simple, direct instruction. This is often paired with the single clickable Link in Bio.
    • Examples: Get my free guide ⬇️ | DM for collabs | New video every Fri!
  • Use Emojis: Emojis are essential because they save characters, add visual flair, and break up text. Use them as bullet points or to replace words.
    • Example: “Engineer βš™οΈ | Runner πŸƒβ€β™€οΈ | Always curious πŸ€””

4. Maximizing the 160 Characters

  • Be Concise: Eliminate filler words and be ruthless with your editing.
  • Use Line Breaks: Separate different ideas (e.g., Who I Am, What I Do, CTA) onto new lines for easy scanning.
  • Utilize Other Fields: Remember that your Name (50 characters), Location, and Website Link are separate fields and do not count against the 160-character bio limit. Use them all!

‘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 there are other issues 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 he has a beautiful and desirable wife, and his belief she is the object of other men’s desires, and one in particular, his immediate superior.

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, 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, nothing is ever what it seems.

…

Available on Amazon here: amzn.to/2H7ALs8

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