Category: Book

What I learned about writing – The Accuracy of Non-fiction

The Unbreakable Vow: How Accurate Must Non-Fiction Really Be?

The Ethical Tightrope Walk of the Storyteller

In an age where information is constantly challenged and fact-checking seems like a lost art, the role of the non-fiction writer has never been more vital—or more scrutinised. When a reader picks up a memoir, a history book, or a piece of investigative journalism, they enter into a sacred contract with the author.

That contract is simple: This is the truth.

But how absolute is that requirement? Writing, after all, is an art form, not a police report. Where does artistic license end, and fabrication begin? And what happens when a writer breaks the cardinal vow of non-fiction?

1. The Currency of Trust: Defining Accuracy

Non-fiction is built on trust. Unlike the novelist, whose power lies in invention, the non-fiction writer’s power rests entirely on verifiability.

The Standard is Rigour

For true accuracy, a writer must adhere to several key principles:

  • Verifiability: All key facts, dates, events, and quotes must be traceable to reliable sources (documents, interviews, established historical record).
  • Contextual Honesty: Presenting a fact accurately is not enough; it must be presented within its proper context. Omitting crucial context can turn a truth into a lie of implication.
  • Due Diligence: The writer has an ethical obligation to actively seek out and include information that might contradict their central thesis, rather than cherry-picking facts that bolster their argument.

The Grey Area: When Narrative Needs Taming

The truth is often messy, disorganised, and tedious. To shape a compelling narrative, even the most rigorous writer must perform certain operations that skirt the edges of pure objectivity:

  • Composite Characters: Combining minor, unnamed figures into one character for the sake of narrative flow (e.g., “a nurse” who represents three different nurses the author spoke to). Ethical Boundary: This is acceptable only if the composite character does not perform actions that never happened or fundamentally alter the setting or plot.
  • Dialogue Recreation: Human memory is imperfect. Few people remember the exact wording from conversations years ago. Writers often recreate dialogue based on notes, journals, or the known speaking style of the person. Ethical Boundary: The reconstructed dialogue must faithfully reflect the actual intent and meaning of the original exchange.
  • Compression of Time: Events that occurred over weeks may be described as happening over a day to maintain momentum. Ethical Boundary: This cannot mislead the reader about cause and effect.

In essence, the rule for navigating the grey area is this: You can compress, simplify, or rephrase, but you cannot introduce invention. If the event, the essential characters, or the core outcome did not happen or exist, you have crossed into fiction.

2. The Cardinal Sin: Fabrication and Lying

Fabricating material in non-fiction is not merely a mistake; it is an act of fraud.

A writer lies when they invent interviews, invent sources, invent data, or fundamentally alter the outcome of a factual event simply to make the story “better.”

The motivation for lying is almost always narrative convenience—the truth wasn’t exciting enough, complete enough, or emotionally satisfying. This choice, driven by desperation or arrogance, guarantees catastrophic consequences.

3. The Scorched-Earth Consequences of Lying

The consequences for writers who fabricate or lie about non-fiction material are swift, catastrophic, and often permanent. They touch every aspect of the writer’s professional and personal life.

A. Reputational Death

For a non-fiction writer, reputation is their lifeblood. Once fabrication is discovered, the writer is professionally toxic.

  • Loss of Credibility: A single lie taints every word the writer has ever published and ever will publish. The reader instantly wonders, “If they lied about this date, did they lie about the entire premise?”
  • Ostracization: Publishers, editors, journalists, and academic institutions will severely limit or cease association with the writer. The writer is no longer a professional peer; they are a liability.
  • The Loss of the Subject: If the work was a biography or history, the writer loses the ability to access primary sources or interview subjects, as no one will risk having their story distorted again.

B. Financial and Legal Ruin

Fabrication often leads to substantial financial and legal actions:

  • Book Recalls and Returns: Publishers are often forced to recall and pulp thousands of copies, costing millions. Royalties are stopped immediately, and the author may be required to pay back advances (a “clawback”) based on breach of contract.
  • Lawsuits: If the fabricated material slanders or libels a real person, or invades privacy, the author and publisher face costly civil lawsuits. This is especially true in memoirs, where the writer has misrepresented the actions or character of family members or acquaintances.

C. The Death of the Work

When fabrication is exposed, the work itself ceases to be viewed as literature or history; it becomes a footnote in the history of literary scandal.

  • Academic institutions remove the book from reading lists.
  • Awards won by the book are often revoked.
  • The work, no matter how engaging the fictional elements were, loses its cultural permanence because its foundation is rotten.

The Example of Literary Hoaxes

History is littered with examples of celebrated non-fiction—particularly memoirs—that were revealed to be frauds. These incidents rarely end with the writer receiving a slap on the wrist. They often involve public confession, professional exile, and a permanent asterisk next to their name in literary history. The narrative satisfaction gained by lying is never worth the loss of an entire career.

The Ultimate Responsibility

The job of the non-fiction writer is the challenging, often frustrating, task of wrestling the truth into a readable shape. It means accepting that sometimes, the real story is incomplete, ambiguous, or less dramatic than we might wish.

The commitment to accuracy is not just an ethical preference; it is the scaffolding upon which the entire genre is built. When we pick up a pen or open a keyboard to write non-fiction, we make an unbreakable vow to the reader to stay true to the facts, not because it’s easy, but because the alternative is professional and sometimes personal extinction.

The truth may be messy, but in non-fiction, it is the only story that matters.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 177

Day 177 – Things to avoid

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Write Like a Pro: 3 Common Writing Pitfalls to Avoid

Great writing is like a good conversation: it should be clear, engaging, and easy to follow. However, even experienced writers sometimes fall into habits that obstruct the reader’s experience. To help you sharpen your prose, let’s look at three common mistakes—run-on sentences, overlong anecdotes, and unnecessary Latin phrases—and how to fix them.

1. Ditch the Run-On Sentences

A run-on sentence happens when two or more independent clauses are joined improperly, often without the necessary punctuation or conjunctions. They force the reader to hold their breath until they hit a period, which kills the rhythm of your content.

What NOT to write:

“I went to the store to buy groceries for the party but they were closed so I had to go to the neighbor’s house to ask for some sugar and then I realized I forgot my wallet at home anyway.”

How to do it properly:

  • Use a period: “I went to the store to buy groceries for the party, but it was closed. I had to go to my neighbour’s house for sugar, only to realise I’d left my wallet at home.”
  • Use a semicolon: “The store was closed; consequently, I had to ask my neighbour for sugar.”

2. Stop Cramming Stories into One Sentence

New writers often try to pack an entire narrative arc—the setting, the conflict, and the resolution—into a single, breathless sentence. If a story requires more than one sentence to explain, give it the space it needs. Breaking your thoughts into multiple sentences allows the reader to digest the information one piece at a time.

What NOT to write:

“When I was hiking in the Rockies last summer, I saw a massive grizzly bear standing just a few yards away from the trail, and my heart started racing as I slowly backed away, hoping it wouldn’t notice me while I reached for my bear spray, and eventually, I made it back to safety without a scratch.”

How to do it properly:

“While hiking in the Rockies last summer, I saw a massive grizzly bear standing just yards from the trail. My heart raced as I slowly backed away, praying it wouldn’t notice me reaching for my bear spray. Thankfully, I made it back to the trailhead without a scratch.”

3. Avoid Obscure Latin Phrases

Using Latin phrases like ad hoc, post hoc, or quid pro quo can make your writing feel pretentious or exclusionary. Unless you are writing for an academic, legal or medical journal, your goal should be clarity. If a simple English word does the job, use it.

What NOT to write:

“We formed the committee ad hoc to handle the budget crisis, but their efforts were ipso facto doomed from the start.”

How to do it properly:

“We formed a temporary committee to handle the budget crisis, but their efforts were inherently doomed from the start.”

Note: If you feel a specific Latin phrase is essential, ensure it is widely understood (like “et cetera” or “per se”), but even then, using plain English is almost always the more professional choice.

The Takeaway

Good writing isn’t about how many complex structures you can cram into a paragraph; it’s about how much value you can provide to the reader with the least amount of friction.

Remember:

  1. Break up your clauses to avoid run-ons.
  2. Give your stories the breathing room of multiple sentences.
  3. Choose common English over dusty Latin.

Your readers will thank you for it!

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Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Bonn

Beyond Beethoven: Five Unique Experiences on Bonn’s Road Less Travelled

Bonn! The city of Beethoven’s birth, vibrant cherry blossoms, and a rich political past. Most visitors flock to the Beethoven-Haus, stroll along the Rhine, or admire the Münster. And rightly so – these are truly wonderful experiences!

But what if you’ve already “done” the main sights, or simply yearn for a deeper, more authentic connection with a place? What if you’re the kind of traveller who thrives on uncovering hidden gems, exploring local life, and stepping slightly off the well-trodden path?

If that sounds like you, then welcome to Bonn’s road less travelled! Here are five unique things to do that will give you a fresh perspective on this charming Rhineland city.

1. Scale the Petersberg & Soak in Panoramic History

While most tourists head for the Drachenfels for that iconic Siebengebirge view, the Petersberg offers an equally stunning, often quieter, and historically significant alternative. Perched majestically above the Rhine, this mountain is home to the Steigenberger Grandhotel & Spa Petersberg, a legendary venue that served as Germany’s state guesthouse for decades.

Why it’s unique: Imagine dining where world leaders once negotiated treaties, or simply enjoying a coffee with a view that inspired generations. You can hike up through lush forests (multiple trails offer varying difficulties), or take a scenic drive. The views over the Rhine valley, the city of Königswinter, and across to the Drachenfels are simply breathtaking, especially at sunset. It’s less about a specific attraction and more about the serene atmosphere and the weight of history in the air.

Do this: Choose a clear afternoon, pack some snacks, and hike up one of the quieter trails. Reward yourself with a drink on the hotel terrace, soaking in the panoramic vista. Explore the small chapel and reflect on the significant meetings that took place here.

2. Dive into Art & Herstory at the Frauenmuseum Bonn

Move beyond the grand national museums and discover a truly groundbreaking institution: the Frauenmuseum Bonn. Established in 1981, it was the world’s first museum dedicated to female artists and their cultural-historical contributions.

Why it’s unique: This isn’t just another art gallery. The Frauenmuseum is a vibrant, feminist space that constantly challenges perspectives through its diverse and thought-provoking exhibitions. It showcases contemporary art by women, presents historical themes from a female viewpoint, and fosters dialogue about gender roles and societal change. It’s a dynamic place that feels deeply relevant and often sparks lively discussion.

Do this: Check their current exhibition schedule before you go, as they change frequently. Allow yourself to be challenged, inspired, and educated. Don’t forget to browse their small but interesting gift shop for unique souvenirs.

3. Wander Through the Bonn University Botanical Gardens (Poppelsdorfer Gärten)

While the Poppelsdorf Palace is a known landmark, many visitors simply admire its facade without fully exploring its magnificent Botanical Gardens. These aren’t just any gardens; they are among the oldest and most species-rich botanical gardens in Germany, managed by the University of Bonn.

Why it’s unique: Tucked behind the ornate palace, these gardens are a tranquil oasis packed with scientific wonder. From ancient redwoods to tropical greenhouses brimming with exotic plants, you can travel the world’s flora in an afternoon. It’s a place of quiet contemplation, learning, and incredible beauty, often frequented more by students and local residents than tourists.

Do this: Dedicate a good hour or two. Explore the different sections, marvel at the giant water lilies in summer, and step into the warm, humid greenhouses to discover rare orchids and carnivorous plants. It’s especially beautiful in spring and early summer.

4. Get Lost in the Architectural Charm of the Südstadt

Forget the central hubbub for a moment and take a leisurely stroll through Bonn’s Südstadt (South Town). This district is one of Germany’s largest and best-preserved Gründerzeit (late 19th-century) residential areas, boasting stunning historical architecture around every corner.

Why it’s unique: It’s a living, breathing neighbourhood, not a museum district. The Südstadt’s streets are lined with beautifully ornate Wilhelminian-era buildings, each with unique facades, intricate balconies, and charming details. There are no major “attractions” here, just pure aesthetic pleasure and a glimpse into Bonn’s elegant past and present-day local life. You’ll find quiet cafes, small boutiques, and a sense of calm distinct from the city centre.

Do this: Start near Poppelsdorfer Allee and simply wander the side streets like Argelanderstraße, Kaiserstraße, and Bonner Talweg. Look up and admire the architectural details. Stop at a local cafe for Kaffee und Kuchen (coffee and cake) and soak in the atmosphere.

5. Savor Authentic “Bönnsch” at a Traditional Brauhaus

While Bonn isn’t as famous for beer as Cologne, it has its own unique brew and a strong pub culture. Seek out a traditional Bönnsch Brauhaus for an authentic taste of local life and regional cuisine.

Why it’s unique: “Bönnsch” is a specific top-fermented beer brewed only in Bonn, similar to Cologne’s Kölsch but with its own distinct character. These Brauhäuser are more than just pubs; they’re social hubs where locals gather. You’ll find a lively, unpretentious atmosphere, hearty German dishes, and endlessly refilled small glasses (Stangen) of the refreshing local brew. It’s an immersive cultural experience that connects you directly with Bonn’s everyday rhythm.

Do this: Head to a well-regarded local brewery-pub. Order a “Bönnsch” (or just wait for the Köbes/waiter to bring one) and a traditional dish like “Sauerbraten Rheinische Art” (Rhenish pot roast) or “Himmel un Ääd” (Heaven and Earth – blood sausage with mashed potatoes and apple sauce). Don’t be shy; strike up a conversation with a local if the opportunity arises!

Bonn is a city that rewards those willing to peel back its layers. So, next time you’re in this beautiful city, dare to wander a little further, look a little closer, and discover the unique spirit that truly makes Bonn special. Happy travels on the road less travelled!

Have you discovered any other hidden gems in Bonn? Share your finds in the comments below!

In a word: Port

So, I wonder if it’s true, any port in a storm, except perhaps Marseilles.

Or, if you are a lothario-type sailor, you would have a girl in every port.

Yes, the most common definition of a port is a place where ships dock.

And, while talking of ships we don’t call the sides left and right, we call them port and starboard.  Just in case you didn’t know, port is on the left side of the ship when facing forward.

And of course, ships have portholes, i.e. windows, traditionally round and rather small.

It could be an alcoholic drink, imbibed mostly after dinner with coffee and cigars, though no one seems to smoke cigars anymore.

There is still coffee, for now.  No doubt sometime in the future someone will link it to death and dying, and it will fall out of favour, like sugar, weedkillers and asbestos.

The best port seems to come from Portugal, strange about that.

You can port a program (app in phone speak) from one platform to another, which basically means from Android to Apple IOS, but not without a reasonable amount of work.

It can also be an outlet plug on a computer that accepts cables from other devices (USB) and many years ago, a printer port, and a serial port.

In certain places in the world a port is a child’s schoolbag, a definition I was not aware of until we moved to a different state.

I’m still having a problem with it 30 years on.

Inspiration, Maybe – Volume 2

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:

And, the story:

Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply fly away?

Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, I came to the airport to see the plane leave.  Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.

But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision.  She needed the opportunity to spread her wings.  It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.

She was in a rut.  Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level that she, the youngest of the group, would get the position.

It was something that had been weighing her down for the last three months, and if she noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper.  I knew she had one; no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.

And then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere.  Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication.  It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact that she had to entertain more, and frankly, I felt like an embarrassment to her.

So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock.  We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.

It was then that she said she had quit her job and found a new one.  Starting the following Monday.

Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it was something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.

I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.

What surprised her was my reaction.  None.

I simply asked who, where, and when.

A world-class newspaper in New York, and she had to be there in a week.

A week.

It was all the time I had left with her.

I remember just shrugging and asking if the planned weekend away was off.

She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.

Is that all you want to know?

I did, yes, but we had lost the intimacy we used to have, where she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker, but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.

There’s not much to ask, I said.  You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place,  and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.

Her immediate superior was instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position, he had not taken advantage of the situation like some might.  And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.

One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.

So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.

Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology.  It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you.  I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.

Yes, our relationship had a use-by date, and it was in the next few days.

I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me; you can make cabinets anywhere.

I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job.  It was everything around her and going with her that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.

Then the only question left was, what do we do now?

Go shopping for suitcases.  Bags to pack, and places to go.

Getting on the roller coaster is easy.  At the beginning, it’s a slow, easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top.  It’s much like some relationships; they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, followed by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.

What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.

Our roller coaster had just come out of the final turn, and we were braking so that it would stop at the station.

There was no question of going with her to New York.  Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back.  After a few months in the new job, the last thing she’d want was a reminder of what she left behind.  New friends, new life.

We packed her bags, threw out everything she didn’t want, a free trip to the op shop with stuff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.

Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming; that moment, the taxi arrived to take her away forever.  I remember standing there, watching the taxi go.  It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.

So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.

Already that morning, there had been 6 different types of planes departing, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.

People coming, people going.

Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just to see what the attraction was.  Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.

As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.

Perhaps it was.

© Charles Heath 2020-2026

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Coming soon.  Find the above story and 49 others like it in:

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Edinburgh

Beyond the Castle: Unearthing Edinburgh’s Hidden Gems (The Road Less Travelled)

Edinburgh. The name alone conjures images of its majestic castle, the Royal Mile’s bustling crowds, and Arthur’s Seat’s iconic silhouette. And while these are undoubtedly must-sees for any visitor, what if you’re craving a taste of the city that goes deeper, a little off the well-trodden tourist path? If you’ve already ticked off the big hitters or simply fancy an Edinburgh experience that feels more personal and unique, then buckle up. We’re venturing down the road less travelled to uncover five fantastic, alternative experiences in this captivating Scottish capital.

1. Dive into the Artistic Depths of the Dean Village

Forget the galleries packed shoulder-to-shoulder. For a truly enchanting artistic escape, head to Dean Village. This picturesque oasis, nestled on the Water of Leith, feels like stepping back in time. Once a thriving milling community, it’s now a bohemian enclave dotted with stunning Victorian architecture, charming bridges, and lush greenery.

Why it’s off the beaten path: While it’s a beautiful spot for a stroll, many visitors overlook it in favour of more central attractions.

What to do: Wander along the river, admire the intricate buildings of Well Court and the former mills, and soak in the tranquil atmosphere. Keep an eye out for resident artists working in their studios (some even have open days!). It’s a photographer’s paradise and a balm for the soul.

2. Uncover Literary Secrets at the Writer’s Museum

Edinburgh is a UNESCO City of Literature, and while the National Library is impressive, the Writers’ Museum offers a more intimate and characterful glimpse into the lives of Scotland’s literary giants. Housed in a beautiful 17th-century tenement building off the Royal Mile, this museum is dedicated to the lives and works of Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott, and Robert Louis Stevenson.

Why it’s off the beaten path: It’s tucked away on a side street, and its smaller scale means it’s often bypassed by those seeking grander institutions.

What to do: Explore the rooms filled with personal belongings, manuscripts, portraits, and furniture belonging to these iconic writers. You can almost feel their creative energy lingering in the air. It’s a deeply personal and inspiring experience for any book lover.

3. Explore the Fascinating Underbelly of the Real Mary King’s Close (Beyond the Main Entrance)

Okay, so “Real Mary King’s Close” is a popular attraction, but hear us out. Instead of booking a standard tour, seek out some of the specialist tours or historical reenactments that occasionally run. These often delve deeper into specific aspects of the Close’s history, focusing on social history, specific residents, or even ghost stories with more dramatic flair.

Why it’s off the beaten path: While the main tours are well-marketed, these niche offerings cater to a more dedicated historical interest and have limited availability.

What to do: Look for advertised events or inquire at local historical societies. These tours can offer a more immersive and less crowded experience, allowing you to truly connect with the stories of those who lived and died beneath the city.

4. Take a Tranquil Escape to the Hermitage of Braid Nature Reserve

Need a break from the urban buzz? The Hermitage of Braid Nature Reserve offers a surprisingly wild and peaceful escape within the city limits. This beautiful wooded glen, also along the Water of Leith, is a haven for wildlife and a perfect spot for a contemplative walk.

Why it’s off the beaten path: It’s further south from the city centre and less advertised than the more accessible parks.

What to do: Follow the winding paths through ancient woodlands, discover charming waterfalls, and enjoy the abundant birdlife. There’s a small, historic Hermitage building and a lovely walled garden to explore. It’s the ideal place to recharge your batteries and reconnect with nature.

5. Indulge Your Sweet Tooth (or Savoury Cravings) at the Stockbridge Market

While Edinburgh has plenty of great restaurants, for a truly local and vibrant food experience, head to the Stockbridge Market. Held every Sunday in the charming Stockbridge neighbourhood, this bustling market is a food lover’s paradise, showcasing a diverse array of local producers, artisanal bakers, and talented street food vendors.

Why it’s off the beaten path: It’s a local’s favourite and attracts a more discerning crowd than the typical tourist markets.

What to do: Sample delicious Scottish produce, from artisan cheeses and freshly baked bread to gourmet baked goods and international street food. Grab a coffee, enjoy the lively atmosphere, and perhaps pick up some unique souvenirs. It’s a fantastic way to experience the city’s culinary heart and support local businesses.

So, the next time you find yourself in Edinburgh, dare to stray from the familiar. These five hidden gems offer a different perspective, a chance to discover the soul of the city beyond the postcards. Happy exploring!

What are your favourite “off the beaten path” spots in Edinburgh? Share them in the comments below!

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you?

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realises his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters, cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times, taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice, where, in those back streets, I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all, a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

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Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

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365 Days of writing, 2026 – 177

Day 177 – Things to avoid

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Write Like a Pro: 3 Common Writing Pitfalls to Avoid

Great writing is like a good conversation: it should be clear, engaging, and easy to follow. However, even experienced writers sometimes fall into habits that obstruct the reader’s experience. To help you sharpen your prose, let’s look at three common mistakes—run-on sentences, overlong anecdotes, and unnecessary Latin phrases—and how to fix them.

1. Ditch the Run-On Sentences

A run-on sentence happens when two or more independent clauses are joined improperly, often without the necessary punctuation or conjunctions. They force the reader to hold their breath until they hit a period, which kills the rhythm of your content.

What NOT to write:

“I went to the store to buy groceries for the party but they were closed so I had to go to the neighbor’s house to ask for some sugar and then I realized I forgot my wallet at home anyway.”

How to do it properly:

  • Use a period: “I went to the store to buy groceries for the party, but it was closed. I had to go to my neighbour’s house for sugar, only to realise I’d left my wallet at home.”
  • Use a semicolon: “The store was closed; consequently, I had to ask my neighbour for sugar.”

2. Stop Cramming Stories into One Sentence

New writers often try to pack an entire narrative arc—the setting, the conflict, and the resolution—into a single, breathless sentence. If a story requires more than one sentence to explain, give it the space it needs. Breaking your thoughts into multiple sentences allows the reader to digest the information one piece at a time.

What NOT to write:

“When I was hiking in the Rockies last summer, I saw a massive grizzly bear standing just a few yards away from the trail, and my heart started racing as I slowly backed away, hoping it wouldn’t notice me while I reached for my bear spray, and eventually, I made it back to safety without a scratch.”

How to do it properly:

“While hiking in the Rockies last summer, I saw a massive grizzly bear standing just yards from the trail. My heart raced as I slowly backed away, praying it wouldn’t notice me reaching for my bear spray. Thankfully, I made it back to the trailhead without a scratch.”

3. Avoid Obscure Latin Phrases

Using Latin phrases like ad hoc, post hoc, or quid pro quo can make your writing feel pretentious or exclusionary. Unless you are writing for an academic, legal or medical journal, your goal should be clarity. If a simple English word does the job, use it.

What NOT to write:

“We formed the committee ad hoc to handle the budget crisis, but their efforts were ipso facto doomed from the start.”

How to do it properly:

“We formed a temporary committee to handle the budget crisis, but their efforts were inherently doomed from the start.”

Note: If you feel a specific Latin phrase is essential, ensure it is widely understood (like “et cetera” or “per se”), but even then, using plain English is almost always the more professional choice.

The Takeaway

Good writing isn’t about how many complex structures you can cram into a paragraph; it’s about how much value you can provide to the reader with the least amount of friction.

Remember:

  1. Break up your clauses to avoid run-ons.
  2. Give your stories the breathing room of multiple sentences.
  3. Choose common English over dusty Latin.

Your readers will thank you for it!

…

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to write a war story – Episode 21

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 in 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…

 

Chiara knew the moment she told Martina that one of the Germans was dead, she would be in trouble.  Not only from the resistance but from the British or whoever they were, up at the castle.

The man’s name was Eric Carmichael, and he was a nice man, more of a boy really, having not suffered the full effects of a front line.  He wanted to, but the Gods, as he called them, were against it.

Now he was dead.

He had come to the farm, told she was not there and had left again.  The pity of it, on any other occasion, nothing would have happened.  Nobody went out at night, so no one knew of their association.

Of course, if he did tell her anything, which he hadn’t so far, she would pass it on to Martina.  And, perhaps the only annoying thing about him was that he kept asking about the resistance as if it was still operational.  It was one of the reasons who Martina kept her at arm’s length, so she had nothing useful to tell them if they took her in for questioning.

Now it was a matter of seeing if he had told anyone about this affair, and if he did, she would not be safe at the farm.  It was why she was in hiding, waiting, and watching to see if anyone came.

Along with Carlo, and the new man, Atherton.

Not far from where the soldier’s body lay in the ditch, one that no one had yet found.

Until now.

A car was coming along the road quite fast, heading towards her farm.  Atherton recognised it as one of the staff cars from the castle, and as it slowed to turn the corner, Atherton could see it contained three men, the driver, and the two men who had followed him down the stream.

Suddenly the car skidded to a stop.  All three got out and went over to the ditch.  The driver had seen the bicycle.

 

It was an interesting conversation.

“The fool looks like he run off the side of the road and into a tree, fell off and hit his dead on the rocks.”

It was the man who had set me free.  I’d recognise him anywhere.

“Or maybe some ‘innocent bystander’ shoved a wrench in the wheel and he went over the handlebars.”

The big man turned to him.  “You have a story that implicates every member of the enemy population, don’t you?  Where’s the wrench?”

“They could have tossed it away or thrown it into the bushes.”

“The kid’s an idiot.  He was out for some fun and had his mind everywhere but on the job.  If she’s that tempting, maybe I’ll go and have a look in myself.”

The driver took a closer look, then suddenly bolted for the bushes and threw up.  I’d expected more seasoned soldiers in the group of paratroopers, but maybe they were late recruits with only half the training, and barely out of school.  He didn’t look all that old.  Neither had the lad in the ditch.

The tall guy yelled out, “when you finish puking, get over here and help us get him into the car.  Then we’ll meander down to this farm.”

 

Carlo knew a quicker way across the country to their farm.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what he was intending to do.

Three fewer Germans, three fewer problems.

I followed, trying to keep up.

“You got weapons hidden away?”

“Several rifles and a handgun.”

“It’ll do.  When we get there, you say out of sight.  Me and the new laddie here will take care of them.”

A look in my direction told me I’d just been recruited into the killing force.  Exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid.  I guess it was time to make a stand.

A few minutes later we were in the large shed out the rear of the farmhouse, retrieved the rifles, of which one was a sniper rifle, a rather interesting trophy, and not the sort of gun any soldier would leave lying around.

I was tempted to ask where she got but decided against it.  I had an awful feeling the previous owner had met a gruesome if not a sticky end.  Chiara was not just a pretty face.

“You know what to do with this thing?” Carlo said, holding it out in my direction.

“Vaguely, but I think I can manage.”

With it was a carton of shells, rather long and ugly and very deadly, even at long range.  But this time, we were not that far from the target area so wind and external conditions would not be a factor.

Also, I was hoping the sight had been calibrated.

After getting a feel for the weapon I took up a position on top of some hay bales and could see through a large enough crack when I put the barrel, and stretching out, found a comfortable position, and aimed for the back door.

It was like putting out my hand and touching it.  This was going to kick like a mule on the recoil, but I would only have time to worry about reloading for the next target.  Then I realised the driver might be a problem, especially when the shooting started, so I swivelled around to the back end of the house where a vehicle might come, and, saw the blue, altered the sight, and then saw the car approaching slowly.

I was hoping it would remain in sight, so if anything happened, I would be able to pick him off.  It would be all that much harder if he managed to try driving away.

I tracked the car to the point where it stopped, just pat the corner, with only the back half displayed in my sight.

Damn.

In the distance, we heard two car doors slam shut.

The driver was staying put.

Double damn.

A minute later we could hear pounding on the front door, then nothing.  My guess, they kicked in the front door.  There was no one at home, Chiara’s parents were away because they had no crops in the ground.  Their problem was water, and the river was running low this year.  Aside from the fact they were not going to feed the enemy soldiers who would simply take everything and give them nothing in return.

I heard rather than saw Carlo stiffen and resight the back door.  His shots would be far more difficult than mine.

The tall man came out the back door, stood on the ground not far from the door, his head filling my scope.

“Now,” Carlo said softly.

A pull of the trigger and the man’s head exploded, at just the same time as the other man came out.  A reload and another shot.  I missed the head, winged him, and Carlo finished him off.  Once shot at an impossible range.

Another reload, and swivel towards the car, now reversing, and making it very hard to see his face or body to get a clear shot.  Back, around and driving off, in a panic.  He’d heard the two shots.

“The fuel,” Carlo said, “shoot the fuel.”

I lined up where I thought the fuel tank was and squeezed the trigger.

Almost instantaneously the car exploded in a ball of fire.  Just under my line of sight, Carlo was running.  If the driver escaped…

I put the scope on Carli and then to the side.  I saw him raise his gun and fire twice.  The drive must have miraculously thrown clear of the car, only to find himself in Carlo’s sights.

Chiara had appeared behind me.  “We have to go,” she said.

I picked up the gun and took it with me.  It could come in handy later on.

Carlo was already heading back to the shortcut through the woods and we met him on the path about twenty yards along.

“That’s going to stir up a hornet’s nest,” he said.

More than that, I thought.  Now Johannsson knew he had a real problem.  There would be a price to pay for this exercise, and the villagers were the ones who would be paying it.

 

© Charles Heath 2019

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

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