Category: Book

An excerpt from “Mistaken Identity” – a work in progress

The odds of any one of us having a doppelganger are quite high. Whether or not you got to meet them or be confronted by them was significantly lower. Except, of course, unless you are a celebrity.

It was a phenomenon remarkable only for the fact that, at times, certain high-profile people, notorious or not, had doubles if only to put off enemies or the general public. Sometimes we see people in the street who look like someone we knew and make the mistake of approaching them like a long-lost friend, only to discover an embarrassed individual desperately trying to get away from what they perceive as a stalker, or worse.

And then sometimes it is a picture that looms up on a TV screen, an almost exact likeness of you. At first, you are fascinated, and then, according to the circumstances and narrative that is attached to that picture, either flattered or horrified.

For me, one turned to the other when I saw an almost likeness of me flash up on the screen when I turned the TV on in my room. What looked to be my photo, with only minor differences, was in the corner of the screen, the newsreader speaking in rapid Italian, so fast I could only translate every second or third word.

But the one word I did recognise was murder. The photo of the man on the screen was the subject of an extensive manhunt. The crime, the murder of a woman in the very same hotel I was staying, and it was being played out live several floors above me. The gist of the story, the woman had been seen with and staying with the man who was my double, and, less than an hour ago, the body had been discovered by a chambermaid.

The killer, the announcer said, was believed to be still in the hotel because the woman had died shortly before she had been discovered.

I watched, at first fascinated by what I was seeing. I guess I should have been horrified, but at that moment it didn’t register that I might be mistaken for that man.

Not until another five minutes had passed, and I was watching the police in full riot gear, with a camera crew following behind, coming up a passage towards a room. Live action of the arrest of the suspected killer, the breathless commentator said.

Then, suddenly, there was a pounding on the door. On the TV screen, plain to see, was the number of my room. I looked through the peephole and saw an army of police officers. It didn’t take much to realise what had happened. The hotel staff identified me as the man in the photograph on the TV and called the police.

Horrified wasn’t what I was feeling right then.

It was fear.

My last memory was the door crashing open, the wood splintering, and men rushing into the room, screaming at me, waving guns, and when I put my hands up to defend myself, I heard a gunshot.

And in one very confused and probably near-death experience, I thought I saw my mother and thought what was she doing in Rome?

…

I was the archetypal nobody.

I lived in a small flat, I drove a nondescript car, had an average job in a low-profile travel agency, was single, and currently not involved in a relationship, had no children, and, according to my workmates, no life.

They were wrong. I was one of those people who preferred their own company; I had a cat, and travelled whenever I could. And I did have a ‘thing’ for Rosalie, one of the reasons why I stayed at the travel agency. I didn’t expect anything to come of it, but one could always hope.

I was both pleased and excited to be going to the conference. It was my first, and the glimpse I had seen of it had whetted my appetite for more information about the nuances of my profession.

Some would say that a travel agent wasn’t much of a job, but to me, it was every bit as demanding as being an accountant or a lawyer. You were providing a customer with a service, and arguably, more people needed a travel agent than a lawyer. At least that was what I told myself as I watched more and more people start using the internet, and our relevance slowly dissipating.

This conference was about countering that trend.

The trip over had been uneventful. I was met at the airport and taken to the hotel where the conference was being held with several other delegates who had arrived on the same plane. I had mingled with several other delegates at the pre-conference get-together, including one whose name was Maryanne.

She was an unusual young woman, not the sort that I usually met, because she was the one who was usually surrounded by all the boys, the life of the party. In normal circumstances, I would not have introduced myself to her, but she had approached me. Why did I think that may have been significant? All of this ran through my mind, culminating in the last event on the highlight reel, the door bursting open, men rushing into my room, and then one of the policemen opened fire.

I replayed that last scene again, trying to see the face of my assailant, but it was just a sea of men in battle dress, bulletproof vests and helmets, accompanied by screaming and yelling, some of which I identified as “Get on the floor”.

Then came the shot.

Why ask me to get on the floor if all they were going to do was shoot me? I was putting my hands up at the time, in surrender, not reaching for a weapon.

Then I saw the face again, hovering in the background like a ghost. My mother. Only the hair was different, and her clothes, and then the image was going, perhaps a figment of my imagination brought on by pain-killing drugs. I tried to imagine the scene again, but this time it played out without the image of my mother.

I opened my eyes and took stock of my surroundings. What I felt in that exact moment couldn’t be described. I should most likely be dead, the result of a gunshot wound. I guess I should be thankful the shooter hadn’t aimed at anything vital, but that was the only item on the plus side.

I was in a hospital room with a policeman by the door. He was reading a newspaper and sitting uncomfortably on a small chair. He gave me a quick glance when he heard me move slightly, but didn’t acknowledge me with either a nod or a greeting, just went back to the paper.

If I still had a police guard, then I would still be considered a suspect. What was interesting was that I was not handcuffed to the bed. Perhaps that only happened in TV shows. Or maybe they knew I couldn’t run because my injuries were too serious. Or the guard would shoot me long before my feet hit the floor. I knew the police well enough now to know they would shoot first and ask questions later.

On the physical side, I had a large bandage over the top left corner of my chest, extending over my shoulder. A little poking and prodding determined the bullet had hit somewhere between the top of my rib cage and my shoulder. Nothing vital there, but my arm might be somewhat useless for a while, depending on what the bullet hit on the way in or through.

It didn’t feel like there were any broken or damaged bones.

That was the good news.

On the other side of the ledger, my mental state, there was only one word that could describe it. Terrified. I was looking at a murder charge and jail time, a lot of it. Murder usually had a long time in jail attached to it.

Whatever had happened, I didn’t do it. I know I didn’t do it, but I had to try to explain this to people who had already made up their minds. I searched my mind for evidence. It was there, but in the confused state brought on by the medication, all I could think about was jail, and the sort of company I was going to have.

I think death would have been preferable.

…

Half an hour later, maybe longer, I was drifting in and out of consciousness. A nurse, or what I thought was a nurse, came into the room. The guard stood, checked her ID card, and then stood by the door.

She came over and stood beside the bed. “How are you?” she asked, first in Italian, and when I pretended I didn’t understand, she asked the same question in accented English.

“Alive, I guess,” I said. “No one has come and told me what my condition is yet. You are my first visitor. Can you tell me?”

“Of course. You are very lucky to be alive. You will be fine and make a full recovery. The doctors here are excellent at their work.”

“What happens now?”

“I check you, and then you have another visitor. He is from the British Embassy, I think. But he will have to wait until I have finished my examination.”

I realised then she was a doctor, not a nurse.

…

My second visitor was a man, dressed in a suit, the sort of which I associated with the British Civil Service.  He was not very old, which told me he was probably a recent graduate on his first posting, the junior officer who drew the short straw.

The guard checked his ID but again did not leave the room, sitting back down and going back to his newspaper.

My visitor introduced himself as Alex Jordan from the British Embassy in Rome, and he had been asked by the Ambassador to sort out what he labelled a tricky mess.

For starters, it was good to see that someone cared about what happened to me.  But, equally, I knew the mantra, get into trouble overseas, and there is not much we can do to help you.  So, after that lengthy introduction, I had to wonder why he was here.

I said, “They think I am an international criminal by the name of Jacob Westerbury, whose picture looks just like me, and apparently, for them, it is an open and shut case.”  I could still hear the fragments of the yelling as the police burst through the door, at the same time telling me to get on the floor with my hands over my head.

“It’s not.  They know they’ve got the wrong man, which is why I’m here.  There is the issue of what had been described as excessive force, and the fact that you were shot had made it an all-around embarrassment for them.”

“Then why are you here?  Shouldn’t they be here apologising?”

“That is why you have another visitor.  I only took precedence because I insisted on speaking with you first.  I have come, basically, to ask you for a favour.  This situation has afforded us an opportunity.  We would like you to sign the official document, which basically indemnifies them against any legal proceedings.”

Curious.  What sort of opportunity was he talking about?  Was this a matter that could get difficult and I could be charged by the Italian Government, even if I wasn’t guilty, or was it one of those hush-hush type deals, you do this for us, we’ll help you out with that?  “What sort of opportunity?”

“We want to get our hands on Jacob Westerbury as much as they do.  They’ve made a mistake, and we’d like to use that to get custody of him if or when he is arrested in this country.  I’m sure you would also like this man brought into custody as soon as possible, so you will stop being confused with him.  I can only imagine what it was like to be arrested in the manner you were.  And I would not blame you if you wanted to get some compensation for what they’ve done.  But.  There are bigger issues in play here, and you would be doing this for your country.”

I wondered what would happen if I didn’t agree to his proposal.  I had to ask, “What if I don’t?”

His expression didn’t change.  “I’m sure you are a sensible man, Mr Pargeter, who is more than willing to help his country whenever he can.  They have agreed to take care of all your hospital expenses, refund the cost of the Conference, and travel.  I’m sure I could also get them to pay for a few days at Capri or Sorrento, if you like, before you go home.  What do you say?”

There was only one thing I could say.  Wasn’t it treason if you went against your country’s wishes?

“I’m not an unreasonable man, Alex.  Go do your deal, and I’ll sign the papers.”

“Good man.”

…

After Alex left, the doctor came back to announce the arrival of a woman, who had announced herself as the publicity officer from the Italian police. When she came into the room, she was not dressed in a uniform.

The doctor left after giving a brief report to the civilian at the door. I understood the gist of it: “The patient has recovered excellently, and the wounds are healing as expected. There is no cause for concern.”

That was a relief.

While the doctor was speaking to the civilian, I speculated on who she might be. She was young, not more than thirty, conservatively dressed, so an official of some kind, but not necessarily with the police. Did they have prosecutors? I was unfamiliar with the Italian legal system.

She had long, wavy black hair and the sort of sultry looks of an Italian movie star, and her presence made me more curious than fearful, though I couldn’t say why.

The woman then spoke to the guard, and he reluctantly got up and left the room, closing the door behind him. She checked the door and then came back towards me, standing at the end of the bed. Now alone, she said, “A few questions before we begin.” Her English was only slightly accented. “Your name is Jack Pargeter?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“You are in Rome to attend the Travel Agents Conference at the Hilton Hotel?”

“Yes.”

“You attended a preconference introduction on the evening of the 25th, after arriving from London at approximately 4:25 pm.”

“About that time, yes. I know it was about five when the bus came to collect me, and several others, to take us to the hotel.”

She smiled. It was then that I noticed she was reading from a small notepad.

“It was ten past five to be precise. The driver had been held up in traffic. We have several witnesses who saw you on the plane, on the bus, at the hotel, and with the aid of closed-circuit TV, we have established you are not the criminal Jacob Westerbury.”

She put her notebook back in her bag and then said, “My name is Vicenza Andretti, and I am with the prosecutor’s office. I am here to formally apologise for the situation that can only be described as a case of mistaken identity. I assure you, it is not the habit of our police officers to shoot people unless they have a very strong reason for doing so. I understand that in the confusion of the arrest, one of our officers accidentally discharged his weapon. We are undergoing a very thorough investigation into the circumstances of this event.”

I was not sure why, but between the time I had spoken to the embassy official and now, something about letting them off so easily was bugging me. I could see why they had sent her. It would be difficult to be angry or annoyed with her.

But I was annoyed.

“Do you often send a whole squad of trigger-happy riot police to arrest a single man?” It came out harsher than I intended.

“My men believed they were dealing with a dangerous criminal.”

“Do I look like a dangerous criminal?” And then I realised if it was mistaken identity, the answer would be yes.

She saw the look on my face and said quietly, “I think you know the answer to that question, Mr Pargeter.”

“Well, it was overkill.”

“As I said, we are very sorry for the circumstances you now find yourself in. You must understand that we honestly believed we were dealing with an armed and dangerous murderer, and we were acting within our mandate. My department will cover your medical expenses and any other amounts for the inconvenience this has caused you. I believe you were attending a conference at your hotel. I am very sorry, but given the medical circumstances you have, you will have to remain here for a few more days.”

“I guess, then, I should thank you for not killing me.”

Her expression told me that was not the best thing I could have said in the circumstances.

“I mean, I should thank you for the hospital and the care. But a question or two of my own. May I?”

She nodded.

“Did you catch this Jacob Westerbury character?”

“No. In the confusion created by your arrest, he escaped. Once we realised we had made a mistake and reviewed the closed-circuit TV, we tracked him leaving by a rear exit.”

“Are you sure it was one of your men who shot me?”

I watched as her expression changed to one of surprise.

“You don’t think it was one of my men?”

“Oddly enough, no. But don’t ask me why.”

“It is very interesting that you should say that, because in our initial investigation, it appeared none of our officers’ weapons had been discharged. A forensic investigation into the bullet tells us it was one that is used in our weapons, but…”

I could see their dilemma.

“Have you any enemies that would want to shoot you, Mr Pargeter?”

That was absurd because I had no enemies, at least none that I knew of, much less anyone who would want me dead.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then it is strange, and will perhaps remain a mystery. I will let you know if anything more is revealed in our investigation.”

She took an envelope out of her briefcase and opened it, pulling out several sheets of paper.

I knew what it was. A verbal apology was one thing, but a signed waiver would cover them legally. They had sent a pretty girl to charm me. Perhaps using anyone else would not have worked. There was potential for a huge litigation payout here, and someone more ruthless would jump at the chance of making a few million out of the Italian Government.

“We need a signature on this document,” she said.

“Absolving you of any wrongdoing?”

“I have apologised. We will take whatever measures are required for your comfort after this event. We are accepting responsibility for our actions and are being reasonable.”

They were. I took the pen from her and signed the documents.

“You couldn’t add dinner with you on that list of benefits?” No harm in asking.

“I am unfortunately unavailable.”

I smiled. “It wasn’t a request for a date, just dinner. You can tell me about Rome, as only a resident can. Please.”

She looked me up and down, searching for the ulterior motive. When she couldn’t find one, she said, “We shall see once the hospital discharges you in a few days.”

“Then I’ll pencil you in?”

She looked at me quizzically. “What is this pencil me in?”

“It’s an English colloquialism. It means maybe. As when you write something in pencil, it is easy to erase it.”

A momentary frown, then recognition and a smile. “I shall remember that. Thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr Pargeter. Good morning.”

…

© Charles Heath 2015-2021

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 59

Here’s the thing…

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

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

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

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

…

Did it upset me that Boggs was a little snarky?  Yes, a bit.

We’d been friends for a long time, the sort who had stuck together at school to keep arm’s length from the bullies and work together on projects and homework.  That friendship had become more important after his father disappeared, and I had believed he appreciated it.

Until this treasure thing.

It hadn’t been there, looking over everything.  The fact of the matter was he had been too young to understand any of it, and his mother wisely kept the extended details of her husband’s obsession away from him, and it was quite by chance he stumbled over his father’s effects in the attic.

Had she destroyed that stuff then perhaps we’d all not in this position?

Life had been more predictable, we avoided Alex and Vince, Nadia was nowhere to be seen, and life just rolled along in unemployed heaven.  Of course, that would have had to change, as it had, because my mother couldn’t continue to support a son in his late teens, and at that age, I should have been looking for both work, and to move on with my life.

The state of the economy, and the town’s fortunes, made that difficult, and I guess it would have been a matter of time before I left, like nearly all of my contemporaries had to the bigger towns and cities for more opportunities.

Benderby and the factory had staved that off, for now.

Other than that, I was rather pleased with the job I had, not too taxing, amenable hours so I could do other stuff, and although the only downside was working with Alex, all I had to do was avoid him, and the warehouse was a large building.

I went home to change and found my mother there, sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee.

“You’re home early,” I said when I saw her.

“On a break.  Had to go to the bank, and it wasn’t much further to come here.  Muriel tells me you’ve been talking to Nadia Cossatino.”

Talking to Nadia to her was the same as spending time with her.  And to my mother, the Cossatino’s were public enemies, close to the number one.

“You taught me to be polite and speak when spoken to.”

It was always good to quote her rules back to her when she was trying to admonish me.

“You know what the Cossatino’s are, Sam.”

“She doesn’t act like one, not now.”

“You know why they sent her away, don’t you?”

Sent away?  That was not what I heard, but then, as a so-called child, what we were told and what was reality were two entirely different things.

“I thought I did, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me the grown-up reason?”

“She stabbed a girl, and instead of going to juvenile detention, they sent her home to Italy where she couldn’t get into any more trouble.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did she stab another girl?”

“Do the Cossatino’s need reasons for what they do?  She’s not a very nice person, nor are the family very nice people.  Remember that the next time you see her.”

“She’s nice to me, and I prefer to be polite.  But I’ll take what you said and be careful.”

That said, I was dismissed, lecture given.

I changed and came back to pack a meal for the evening break.  Mother was still sitting at the table.

“I thought you’d be on your way back to work.”

“Not going back today.  I’m not feeling very well.  How is the job going?  I never get to see much of you these days.”

“I’m helping Boggs when I can.”

“Isn’t he on that treasure trail his father started?”

“Yes.  He found a box of his stuff in the attic, and we’ve been trying to make sense of it.”

“There is none.   There was no treasure, just a bunch of maps Boggs’s father made for the Cossatino’s to con people out of their money.”

“What about Ormiston?”

“He was a bigger fool than Boggs.  You don’t want to be humoring Boggs with such nonsense.  You concentrate on doing your job properly and let him follow his father down that rabbit hole.  I feel sorry for Muriel, having two of her family sucked into that mess.”

“And what if it is real?”

She gave me a look that told me the only thing that was real would be her wrath if I persisted with it.  “OK,” I said.  “I’ll try and reason with him, and get him to give it up.”

It was then I noticed the flowers over by the window, a very expensive-looking bouquet in an ornate vase.

“Do you have a secret admirer?”

She looked a little puzzled, then realized what I was talking about.

“Joshua sent them over, thought it might cheer me up.”

Joshua was Alex Benderby’s father, my employer.  Odd that he would be sending my mother flowers.  We were not anywhere near his social circle.

“He’s a kind man, Sam, and we have been friends since school.  I could do with some cheering up.”

I was not sure what she meant by that, but I hope it didn’t mean he would come visiting.  Knowing Benderby was a curse, not a benefit, and I hoped my job wasn’t contingent on her being nice to him.

I shuddered at the thought, said no more, and left for work.

My job was supposed to be my sanctuary, where I could get away from home, the depressive nature of living in the town, and Boggs and his treasure hunt.

It wasn’t an escape from Alex, and not only did he work in the same building, but treated it as his fiefdom, and resented the fact I’d ‘wormed’ my way into his domain.

Under that boastful and arrogant exterior, he really was just an insecure little boy.

But very, very dangerous.

He was leaving when I arrived, having switched from night shift to day, a blessing.  His alternate for the night shift was an uncaring old man who was approaching retirement and didn’t want anything to screw up his exit.

He let me do whatever I wanted so long as it didn’t blow back on him, and I took extra care not to cause offense, or raise any flags.  Stuff came in, stuff went out, the stock register was up to date, and nothing ran out.

It was as simple as that, and even so, Alex still couldn’t get it right so we covered for him.

Alex stopped at the door on the way out, a bad sign.

“You want to tell that clown of a friend, Boggs, to stop poking around the caves.  They’re not a place for amateurs.”

“I didn’t know he was poking around the caves.  Nor that you were.  Any particular reason?”

“It’s called spelunking, dimwit.”

I knew that but wasn’t going to make an issue of it.  He was lucky he could pronounce it let alone know what it was.

“They’re just caves, Alex, with nothing more than a few limestone pinnacles, and bat shit on the floor.  Unless, of course, you think the pirate captain hid his treasure in one of them.  I can’t see how, or why.  They’re a long way from the coast.”

“We’re not looking for treasure.  It doesn’t exist.”

“Then why warn Boggs off?”

He shook his head.  “You’re as daft in the head as he is.  Just tell him not to get in my way.”

With that, he was gone.  A huge sigh of relief, and a long peaceful night ahead of me.

Until the phone rang.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

What I learned about writing: How to Keep Your Writing Fresh

How to Keep Your Writing Fresh – Ditch the Clichés (and Use a Few Sparingly, If You Must)

Introduction

We’ve all been there: you sit down to write a blog, a sales email, or a novel chapter, and before you know it your prose is peppered with phrases like “think outside the box,” “at the end of the day,” or “the sky’s the limit.” Clichés feel safe because they’re familiar, but they also signal lazy thinking, dilute your voice, and can even turn readers off.

So how do you keep your writing crisp, original, and engaging? And if a cliché is the perfect punchline for a specific moment, how can you wield it without sounding trite? Below is a practical, step‑by‑step guide to help you banish the overused and, when necessary, deploy a cliché with surgical precision.

1. Know What a Cliché Actually Is

DefinitionWhy It’s Problematic
A phrase, idea, or trope that has been overused to the point of losing its original impact.It signals a lack of original thought, can feel generic, and often triggers “mental fatigue” in readers.

Key takeaway: Not every familiar phrase is a cliché. Idioms (“break a leg”) and widely accepted terminology (“search engine optimization”) are fine when they serve a clear purpose.

2. Identify the Clichés in Your Own Writing

  1. Read Aloud – Hearing the words forces you to notice rhythm and repetition.
  2. Highlight “Red Flags” – Words like obviously, basically, in today’s fast‑paced world, think outside the box, win-win.
  3. Use a Cliché Detector
    • Online tools (e.g., Cliché Finder or ProWritingAid).
    • Browser extensions that underline overused phrases in real time.

Pro tip: Keep a personal “cliché cheat sheet.” Whenever you catch yourself reaching for a tired phrase, jot it down and replace it later.

3. Replace, Not Remove – Strategies for Fresh Alternatives

ClichéWhy It’s OverusedFresh Alternative
“Think outside the box”Corporate buzzword“Explore unconventional angles”
“At the end of the day”Conversational filler“Ultimately” or “When all is said and done”
“The sky’s the limit”Over‑optimistic hype“The possibilities are endless”
“In today’s fast‑paced world”Generic time‑setter“In an era of rapid change”

How to Generate Alternatives:

  • Ask “Why?” – What’s the core idea? Answer that directly.
  • Swap nouns and verbs – Replace box with a concrete image relevant to your niche.
  • Use vivid sensory language – “The horizon expands before us” feels more poetic than “the sky’s the limit.”

4. Embrace Specificity Over Generality

Bad: “She was very happy.”
Good: “She beamed, her eyes sparkling like sunrise on the lake.”

Specific details make the scene vivid, leaving no room for lazy shorthand.

5. When a Cliché Is the Perfect Fit – Use It Sparingly & Strategically

Sometimes a cliché can act as an anchor—a shared cultural reference that instantly connects you with readers. If you decide to keep one, follow these guidelines:

5.1. Make It Contextual

  • Tie it to your unique narrative.
    • Example: Instead of the generic “It’s a win‑win situation,” write, “Our partnership is a win‑win: you get a 20 % discount, and we gain a long‑term client who loves our eco‑friendly packaging.”

5.2. Add a Twist

  • Subvert expectations.
    • Example: “We told the team to think outside the box—but first, we built a bigger box.”
    • This acknowledges the cliché, then flips it, showing cleverness.

5.3. Pair It With Strong Imagery

  • Bolster the cliché with fresh description.
    • Example: “At the end of the day, the city lights flickered like fireflies caught in a jar, reminding us that even the busiest streets need moments of calm.”

5.4. Limit Frequency

  • One per paragraph, maximum two per piece.
    • This keeps the impact high without overwhelming the reader.

6. Practice Exercise: Rewrite the Cliché‑Heavy Paragraph

Original (cliché‑laden):

“In today’s fast‑paced world, businesses need to think outside the box if they want to stay ahead. At the end of the day, it’s all about delivering value and creating win‑win solutions for customers and shareholders alike.”

Revised (cliché‑free):

“In an era of rapid change, companies must explore unconventional strategies to maintain a competitive edge. Ultimately, success hinges on delivering genuine value and forging mutually beneficial relationships with both customers and investors.”

What Changed?

  • Replaced “fast‑paced world” with “era of rapid change.”
  • Swapped “think outside the box” for “explore unconventional strategies.”
  • Substituted “at the end of the day” with “ultimately.”
  • Turned “win‑win solutions” into “mutually beneficial relationships.”

7. Checklist Before Publishing

  •  Did I scan for common clichés?
  •  Have I replaced every red‑flag phrase with a specific, vivid alternative?
  •  If a cliché remains, does it serve a strategic purpose?
  •  Have I added a twist or unique imagery to that cliché?
  •  Is the overall tone consistent with my brand voice?

Conclusion

Clichés are the linguistic equivalent of fast food: instantly satisfying but nutritionally lacking. By actively identifying, replacing, and only strategically preserving a few, you’ll elevate your writing from “just okay” to “memorable.”

Remember: your words are a reflection of your thought process. The more original they are, the more credibility you earn with every sentence. So next time you feel the urge to lean on a tired phrase, pause, dig deeper, and craft something that truly belongs to you—cliché or not.

Happy writing!

Feel free to share your favourite “cliché‑with‑a‑twist” in the comments below.

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – Beyond the second novel

Does a series need to be planned

…

Plotters vs. Pantsers: Why Even the Most Spontaneous Novelists Need a Series Bible

If you’ve ever reached book three of your epic fantasy or detective series only to realise your protagonist’s eyes magically shifted from piercing blue to emerald green, or that a character who died in chapter four just casually walked back into a scene, you aren’t alone.

Writing a book series is an incredible creative journey, but it is also a marathon of memory. When you live with characters for months—or years—at a time, details blur.

So, when writing a series, does it pay to have a plan for each novel, if only to maintain continuity?

In a word: Absolutely.

While the debate between “plotters” (those who outline meticulously) and “pantsers” (those who write by the seat of their pants) is fierce in the writing community, long-term continuity demands a hybrid approach. Let’s dive into why minor memory lapses happen, the hidden costs of ignoring continuity, and how a simple planning tool can save your sanity (and your readers’ trust).

The Anatomy of Amnesia: How Continuity Errors Happen

Human memory is notoriously unreliable, and when you are knee-deep in the throes of drafting, your brain is prioritising plot momentum, emotional arcs, and dialogue over trivial data.

Over the course of a multi-book series, several common continuity issues inevitably creep in:

  • The Shape-Shifters (Physical Descriptions): Hair colours darken, eye colours shift, scars migrate from the left cheek to the right, and heights fluctuate.
  • The Aging Paradox: Did timeline pacing get a little wobbly? Suddenly, a character who was supposed to be 16 in book one is acting suspiciously like a seasoned 21-year-old by book two, even though only six months have passed in the book’s universe.
  • The Lazarus Effect: Minor characters—or worse, major ones—disappear for a book, only for the author to accidentally reintroduce them with a different name, backstory, or worse, revive them from the dead without explanation.
  • Logistical Lapses: Geography and lore are major culprits. Did the journey from City A to City B take three days on horseback in the first book, but only an afternoon in the sequel? Did a magic system suddenly acquire a new rule (or lose an old one) just to help you write your way out of a corner?

Why Continuity Errors Cost You Readers

You might think, “Surely my readers won’t notice if a character’s eye colour changes.”

Think again.

Today’s readers are deeply engaged. They read with a fine-toothed comb, theorise on forums like Reddit, and discuss books passionately on BookTok and Goodreads. When they spot a glaring continuity error, it pulls them right out of the fictional dream.

Frequent inconsistencies signal a lack of polish. Worse, they break trust. If a reader can’t rely on you to remember basic facts about your own world, they may hesitate to invest their time and money into the next instalment of your series.

Planning Each Novel: The Blueprint for Success

You don’t have to outline every single plot twist, chapter by chapter, if that kills your creative joy. Many successful authors proudly write by the seat of their pants for the actual storytelling.

However, planning for continuity is entirely different from plotting a narrative. To maintain structural integrity across a series, you need a two-pronged strategy:

1. The Individual Novel Outline

Even if you hate strict outlines, having a loose roadmap for each novel ensures that your pacing holds up, subplots resolve, and you don’t write yourself into a narrative dead end. Knowing your destination doesn’t mean you can’t take scenic detours along the way, but it does mean you won’t accidentally drive off a cliff.

2. The Ultimate Weapon: The “Series Bible”

If you take away only one piece of advice from this article, let it be this: Create a Series Bible.

A Series Bible is a centralized, living document (using software like Scrivener, Notion, Google Docs, or a dedicated binder) where you track the immutable facts of your fictional world. It should include:

  • Character Profiles: Full names, nicknames, physical descriptions, birthdays/ages, key relationships, core motivations, and major life events.
  • The Timeline: A master chronological ledger tracking what happens on what day, month, and year across all books.
  • World-Building Lore: Rules of magic, geography, political structures, currency, and technology. Keep a running glossary of invented terms, town names, and historical events.
  • The “Loose Ends” Ledger: A list of unresolved plot threads or lingering questions you need to address in future books.

Strike a Balance: Structure Meets Creativity

Planning doesn’t mean chaining yourself to a spreadsheet. Think of a series outline and a continuity bible not as a cage, but as safety rails. They give you the freedom to drive fast and take creative risks, knowing you won’t crash into a wall of your own making further down the road.

By investing just a little bit of time upfront to track your characters, ages, and world rules, you save yourself hours of agonising developmental edits later—and you deliver a polished, immersive experience that keeps readers coming back for book after book.

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How do you keep track of your series continuity? Let us know your favourite tips and tricks in the comments below!

…

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Brasília

Discover Brasília’s Hidden Gems: 5 Under-the-Radar Adventures

Brasília, the futuristic capital of Brazil, is a city of sleek modernist architecture and political grandeur. But beyond the iconic landmarks like the National Congress and Cathedral of Brasília (Catedral de Brasília), there lies a quieter, more authentic Brasília waiting to be explored. If you’re ready to venture off the beaten path, here are five unique experiences that will make your visit unforgettable.

1. Step Back in Time at Cruzeiro Velho

Tucked away in the Setor Habitacional Jardim Botânico, Cruzeiro Velho is a charming neighbourhood that offers a glimpse into Brasília’s origins. Established in 1959, this area was one of the city’s first residential enclaves, featuring traditional Portuguese-style houses constructed from adobe and wooden beams. Unlike the city’s geometrically modern structures, Cruzeiro Velho exudes rural simplicity and warmth. Stroll through its narrow cobblestone streets, visit the historic Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Carmo (Church of Our Lady of Mount Carmel), and join locals at the community square for a slice of real Brasília life. Tip: Visit in the evening when the community hosts small cultural events, like folk music performances.

2. Admire Street Art in the Túnel das Artes

Hidden beneath Asa Sul, the Túnel das Artes (Arts Tunnel) is a vibrant canvas of local creativity. This 110-meter tunnel, once a utility passage, is now a kaleidoscope of murals, graffiti, and mosaics by Brasília’s most talented artists. The artwork reflects the city’s dynamic spirit and social narratives, making it a must-see for art enthusiasts. Since it’s a working-class thoroughfare, you’ll often spot locals enjoying the art amidst the hum of daily life. Pro Tip: Bring a camera and explore the tunnel during daytime when the lighting highlights the vivid colours.

3. Relax in the Tranquil Jardim Botânico de Brasília

Escape the city’s buzz at the Jardim Botânico de Brasília (Brasília Botanical Garden), a serene sanctuary housing over 2,000 plant species native to Brazil’s Cerrado and Amazon regions. While it’s a scientific institution, the garden’s peaceful atmosphere and scenic walking trails make it a beloved retreat for horticulturists and nature lovers alike. Don’t miss the Pavilhão das Orquídeas (Orchid Pavilion) and the Casebre (a replica of a traditional Cerrado house). Essential Info: Admission is free, and the garden is open daily from 8 AM to 6 PM.

4. Taste Local Flavours at Feira Central

One of Latin America’s largest markets, Feira Central, is where Brasília’s soul tastes best. This bustling hub, open Monday to Friday, is a sensory overload of sizzling street food, fresh produce, and handicrafts. Sample regional delicacies like feijoada (Brazilian stew), queijadinha (cheese cake), and quindim (egg custard in a caramel cup). The market is also a treasure trove for Afro-Brazilian art, leatherwork, and traditional cangaço-style jewellery. Traveller’s Note: Arrive early to avoid the midday heat and join locals for a lively pre-lunch tradition.

5. Discover Nature and Nostalgia at Parque da Torre de TV

Located in Asa Sul, Parque da Torre de TV blends history, nature, and fun. The park is anchored by the iconic Torre de TV, a 139-meter communications tower that once served as a vital link for Brazil’s media. Surrounding the tower is a scenic reservoir, walking paths, and a mini-zoo with native wildlife. Rent a paddleboat on the lake or hike the trails to the top of Morro da Mineirinha for panoramic views. It’s a family-friendly spot that feels worlds away from the city’s formal vibe. Insider Tip: Visit on weekends when the park hosts cultural fairs and open-air concerts.

Conclusion: Beyond the Blueprints
Brasília’s true magic lies not just in its architectural masterpieces but in the stories whispered through its lesser-known corners. Whether you’re savouring street food at Feira Central or wandering the adobe streets of Cruzeiro Velho, these off-the-beaten-path adventures reveal a city that’s as rich in culture as it is in innovation. So let curiosity be your guide, and discover Brasília beyond the blueprints.

Final Note: Before you go, check local event calendars for festivals, farmers’ markets, and art exhibitions that add spontaneity to your trip. Brasília’s hidden gems are best discovered with an open heart and a willing spirit.

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 rewrites, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  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.  We were there for New Year’s, 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 apartment buildings were 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.  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 Centre is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy man with few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  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.  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:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

newechocover5rs

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Buenos Aires

Exploring Buenos Aires Beyond the Tourist Trail: 5 Unexpected Adventures

When most travellers picture Buenos Pride, they think of the tango‑filled streets of San Telmo, the grand avenues of Recoleta, and the bustling cafés of Palermo. While those neighbourhoods are undeniably iconic, the Argentine capital hides a wealth of lesser‑known gems that reveal a more intimate, quirky, and authentic side of the city.

If you’ve already checked off the classic attractions and still have a craving for something different, these five off‑the‑beaten‑path experiences will take you deeper into Buenos Aires’ soul—without the crowds. Pack a reusable water bottle, wear comfortable shoes, and get ready to wander where locals love to roam.

1. Stroll Through the Hidden Gardens of Jardín Japonés at Night

Why it’s special
Most visitors see Jardín Japonés (the Japanese Garden) during daylight hours, but the garden transforms after sunset. The soft glow of lanterns, the gentle hum of koi swimming under moonlight, and the occasional echo of a distant saxophone from a nearby jazz bar create a magical, almost cinematic atmosphere.

What to do

  • Evening tea ceremony – Join a 30‑minute tea‑ceremony workshop (offered on Fridays at 7 pm). It’s a quiet, meditative experience that includes a short talk on the tea’s cultural meaning.
  • Night photography – The garden’s bridges, stone lanterns, and the iconic tea house make superb low‑light subjects. Bring a tripod and experiment with long‑exposure shots of the koi pond.
  • Moonlit stroll – Follow the moss‑covered stepping stones along the tea garden’s “Shinrin‑yoku” (forest‑bath) path. The silence is punctuated only by the rustle of bamboo and distant traffic, offering a rare moment of urban tranquillity.

Pro tip – The garden closes at 9 pm, but the surrounding Barrio de Palermo’s quiet side streets remain lively with hidden speakeasies. Grab a late‑night empanada from a local bakery and head to Bar Los Galgos for an after‑hours gin cocktail.

2. Take a Mini‑Cruise on the Río de la Plata in a Historic “Patache”

Why it’s special
While most tourists imagine the Río de la Plata as a massive, industrial waterway, a handful of small, restored patache vessels (traditional Argentine sailing boats) offer intimate tours focusing on the river’s ecological and historical narrative.

What to do

  • Eco‑tour (2 hours) – Departing from Puerto Madero’s Muelle 1, this guided cruise visits the “Isla de los Pájaros” bird sanctuary. A naturalist points out native herons, cormorants, and the occasional shy black‑skinned swan.
  • Historical storytelling – On select evenings, a local historian narrates tales of early 19th‑century smugglers, the 1880 “Golden Age” of river trade, and the river’s role in shaping Buenos Aires’ identity.
  • Sunset salsa – Some night cruises feature impromptu tango or milonga lessons on deck, letting you sway to the river’s gentle lull while the city lights flicker in the distance.

Pro tip – Book the “sunset salsa” cruise for a Wednesday or Thursday—mid‑week sails are less crowded, and you’ll enjoy a complimentary glass of Malbec from a boutique vineyard in Mendoza.

3. Explore the Street Art Labyrinth of Colegio Nacional de Arquitectura (CNA)

Why it’s special
The façade of the National School of Architecture (CNA) is a living canvas. Since 2015, a rotating collective of local and international muralists has turned its concrete walls into a kaleidoscope of political commentary, surreal imagery, and whimsical cartoons.

What to do

  • Guided “Graffiti Walk” (45 min) – Follow a self‑guided QR‑code trail that links to short video interviews with the artists. Learn the symbolism behind the giant armadillo, the floating books, and the hidden QR‑code that unlocks a secret Instagram filter.
  • Hands‑on stencil workshop – Every Saturday at 11 am, the school’s community art space offers a free stencil‑making class. Produce a mini‑poster to take home—a souvenir you actually made yourself.
  • Evening “Light‑Up” show – On the first Friday of each month, the building’s façade is illuminated with projection mapping, syncing the murals to a live DJ set. The resulting visual symphony is a must‑see for night‑owls.

Pro tip – Bring a reusable tote bag for the workshop supplies and wear comfortable shoes; the CNA campus is a sprawling, cobblestone‑strewn complex perfect for a leisurely wander.

4. Savour a Secret Supper Club in Barrio Chino (Little China)

Why it’s special
Buenos Aires’ Chinatown, nestled in the heart of Belgrano, is often overlooked by tourists who flock to the more famous “Chinatown” of Buenos Aires (the restaurant strip on Avenida Corrientes). Hidden within the narrow alleys is a rotating supper club run by a collective of Chinese‑Argentine chefs who fuse traditional Sichuan flavours with Argentine ingredients.

What to do

  • Reserve a seat – The club operates on a “by invitation only” model. Sign up on their WeChat group or follow their Instagram (@secretchinasabado) to receive a secret code for reservations.
  • Taste the “Chimichurri Dumplings” – A standout dish that blends Argentine chimichurri sauce with delicate pork dumplings, served with a smoky paprika‑infused broth.
  • Cultural exchange – After dinner, the chef hosts a short talk about the migration story of Chinese families arriving in Buenos Aires in the early 1900s, followed by a live erhu (Chinese violin) performance.

Pro tip – Arrive a few minutes early to explore the nearby Plaza de la China, a tiny garden with a bronze statue of a dragon. The surrounding streets are lined with hidden tea houses where you can enjoy a post‑dinner té mate infused with jasmine.

5. Ride the Vintage Tram and take a short walk to the local Museum in La Boca

Why it’s special
Most visitors associate La Boca with colourful houses and the famous Caminito street. Few know that a vintage 1920s tram line still operates on a short, scenic route that ends at the Museum of Industry—a former meat‑packing plant turned interactive exhibition space.

What to do

  • Tram ride (20 min) – Board at the historic Tram Station Plaza de la República (a modest brick building with a tiny ticket booth). The tram clatters through cobblestone streets, passing hidden murals and small workshops.
  • Museum tour – Visit the museum that showcases local history.
  • Coffee at the café.

Bonus: How to Weave These Experiences Into One Seamless Itinerary

DayMorningAfternoonEvening
1Night stroll in Jardín Japonés (7 pm)Late‑night empanada & cocktail in PalermoRest
2Mini‑cruise on Río de la Plata (2 pm)Walk along Puerto MaderoLight‑up show at CNA (9 pm)
3Graffiti walk at CNA (10 am)Stencil workshop (11 am)Dinner at secret Chinatown supper club (8 pm)
4Tram ride and walk to La Boca Museum Museum tour & coffeeFree night – explore local bars in La Boca
5Free day – revisit favorite spots or relax in a parkOptional bike ride along the Ecological ReserveCelebrate with a tango show in a hidden speakeasy

Final Thoughts

Buenos Aires is a city of layers—each neighbourhood, street, and riverbank offers a story waiting to be discovered. By stepping off the traditional tourist map, you’ll uncover hidden gardens that whisper at night, historic vessels that glide through the river’s heart, and culinary experiences that fuse continents.

These five “road‑less‑travelled” adventures give you a taste of the city’s creative, industrial, and multicultural spirit, inviting you to see Buenos Aires not just as a destination, but as a living, breathing tapestry of stories.

Ready to explore? Pack your curiosity, charge your camera, and let the hidden corners of Buenos Aires become your personal playground.

Happy travels!

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 were several 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 a 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 that 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, it literally 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 recurrence. 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 that 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 ‘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 that 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 romanticised 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.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2024

365 Days of writing, 2026 – Beyond the second novel

Does a series need to be planned

…

Plotters vs. Pantsers: Why Even the Most Spontaneous Novelists Need a Series Bible

If you’ve ever reached book three of your epic fantasy or detective series only to realise your protagonist’s eyes magically shifted from piercing blue to emerald green, or that a character who died in chapter four just casually walked back into a scene, you aren’t alone.

Writing a book series is an incredible creative journey, but it is also a marathon of memory. When you live with characters for months—or years—at a time, details blur.

So, when writing a series, does it pay to have a plan for each novel, if only to maintain continuity?

In a word: Absolutely.

While the debate between “plotters” (those who outline meticulously) and “pantsers” (those who write by the seat of their pants) is fierce in the writing community, long-term continuity demands a hybrid approach. Let’s dive into why minor memory lapses happen, the hidden costs of ignoring continuity, and how a simple planning tool can save your sanity (and your readers’ trust).

The Anatomy of Amnesia: How Continuity Errors Happen

Human memory is notoriously unreliable, and when you are knee-deep in the throes of drafting, your brain is prioritising plot momentum, emotional arcs, and dialogue over trivial data.

Over the course of a multi-book series, several common continuity issues inevitably creep in:

  • The Shape-Shifters (Physical Descriptions): Hair colours darken, eye colours shift, scars migrate from the left cheek to the right, and heights fluctuate.
  • The Aging Paradox: Did timeline pacing get a little wobbly? Suddenly, a character who was supposed to be 16 in book one is acting suspiciously like a seasoned 21-year-old by book two, even though only six months have passed in the book’s universe.
  • The Lazarus Effect: Minor characters—or worse, major ones—disappear for a book, only for the author to accidentally reintroduce them with a different name, backstory, or worse, revive them from the dead without explanation.
  • Logistical Lapses: Geography and lore are major culprits. Did the journey from City A to City B take three days on horseback in the first book, but only an afternoon in the sequel? Did a magic system suddenly acquire a new rule (or lose an old one) just to help you write your way out of a corner?

Why Continuity Errors Cost You Readers

You might think, “Surely my readers won’t notice if a character’s eye colour changes.”

Think again.

Today’s readers are deeply engaged. They read with a fine-toothed comb, theorise on forums like Reddit, and discuss books passionately on BookTok and Goodreads. When they spot a glaring continuity error, it pulls them right out of the fictional dream.

Frequent inconsistencies signal a lack of polish. Worse, they break trust. If a reader can’t rely on you to remember basic facts about your own world, they may hesitate to invest their time and money into the next instalment of your series.

Planning Each Novel: The Blueprint for Success

You don’t have to outline every single plot twist, chapter by chapter, if that kills your creative joy. Many successful authors proudly write by the seat of their pants for the actual storytelling.

However, planning for continuity is entirely different from plotting a narrative. To maintain structural integrity across a series, you need a two-pronged strategy:

1. The Individual Novel Outline

Even if you hate strict outlines, having a loose roadmap for each novel ensures that your pacing holds up, subplots resolve, and you don’t write yourself into a narrative dead end. Knowing your destination doesn’t mean you can’t take scenic detours along the way, but it does mean you won’t accidentally drive off a cliff.

2. The Ultimate Weapon: The “Series Bible”

If you take away only one piece of advice from this article, let it be this: Create a Series Bible.

A Series Bible is a centralized, living document (using software like Scrivener, Notion, Google Docs, or a dedicated binder) where you track the immutable facts of your fictional world. It should include:

  • Character Profiles: Full names, nicknames, physical descriptions, birthdays/ages, key relationships, core motivations, and major life events.
  • The Timeline: A master chronological ledger tracking what happens on what day, month, and year across all books.
  • World-Building Lore: Rules of magic, geography, political structures, currency, and technology. Keep a running glossary of invented terms, town names, and historical events.
  • The “Loose Ends” Ledger: A list of unresolved plot threads or lingering questions you need to address in future books.

Strike a Balance: Structure Meets Creativity

Planning doesn’t mean chaining yourself to a spreadsheet. Think of a series outline and a continuity bible not as a cage, but as safety rails. They give you the freedom to drive fast and take creative risks, knowing you won’t crash into a wall of your own making further down the road.

By investing just a little bit of time upfront to track your characters, ages, and world rules, you save yourself hours of agonising developmental edits later—and you deliver a polished, immersive experience that keeps readers coming back for book after book.

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How do you keep track of your series continuity? Let us know your favourite tips and tricks in the comments below!

…

‘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

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