Category: Creative Writing

Writing a book in 365 days – My Story 46

More about my story – And more on the subject of Beta readers!

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The Beta Reader Gauntlet: Navigating Feedback That Feels Like a Punch to the Gut

Here’s the thing.

Every writer knows this quiet dread, this cold sweat moment that hits long before the manuscript is even finished: What if the beta readers find a fundamental flaw in the story? What if the very foundations you’ve painstakingly laid turn out to be cracked, crumbling, or just plain wonky?

It’s a terrifying thought, but let’s be honest with ourselves: it’s a very real possibility.

The Unseen Chaos of Creation

When you’re deep in the trenches of writing, especially over an extended period, the process itself can create inconsistencies. We’ve all been there:

  • Disjointed Aspects: Plot threads we thought we’d tied up suddenly unravel, or new ones appear from nowhere, leaving logical gaps.
  • Character Trait Drift: Isabel started as a shy introvert, but by chapter 15, she’s leading the charge and cracking jokes. Did she have an arc, or did we just forget her initial persona?
  • Name Changes & Forgotten Details: That minor character, Officer Jenkins, who mysteriously became Sergeant Miller a few chapters later. Or the key plot point about a missing locket, which was actually a ring earlier in the draft.
  • Lost Flow: Life happens. We write in bursts, in fragments, around jobs and families. The initial spark, the driving rhythm of the narrative, can get fragmented, leaving jarring transitions or a meandering pace.

These internal shifts, often invisible to our own eyes because we’re so close to the material, are precisely what beta readers are designed to unearth. And boy, can that unearthing feel brutal.

The Character Conundrum: Loved vs. Loathed

Then there’s the beloved protagonist. You’ve poured your heart and soul into them. They’re complex, relatable, flawed – everything a great character should be. You send your manuscript out, excited for feedback, only to get this:

“I absolutely adore Elara! She’s so resilient and genuine.” …followed by… “Honestly, Elara was pretty annoying. I found her whiny and self-absorbed.”

Is there something wrong with your character? Is the conflicting feedback a sign of a fundamental flaw, or simply a matter of taste? This is where the true beta reader dilemma kicks in.

It’s tempting to panic, to immediately question everything you thought you knew about your protagonist. But before you rewrite their entire personality, let’s unpack this.

The Truth About Character Reception: No character, no matter how perfectly crafted, will be universally loved. Some of the most iconic characters in literature and film are divisive for a reason – their complexity sparks strong opinions. The goal isn’t universal adoration; it’s usually about creating a character who resonates meaningfully with your intended audience, or who effectively serves their role in the story.

Ask Deeper Questions:

  • Why did they find them annoying/likable? Is the “annoying” feedback due to genuine inconsistency or a lack of motivation for their actions? Or is it because the character embodies traits that simply rub that particular reader the wrong way (which might be the point of the character)?
  • Does the character achieve their intended purpose? If your character is meant to be a bit abrasive at first, but grows, then initial annoyance might not be a flaw. If they’re meant to be inspiring, and everyone finds them annoying, that’s a problem.
  • Is there a pattern? If one person finds them annoying and ten others love them, perhaps it’s an outlier opinion. If six out of ten find them annoying, it’s time to investigate further.

The Million-Dollar Question: At What Point Do You Consider Changes?

This is the ultimate balancing act of the beta reader process. You can’t implement every single suggestion, or your story will become a disjointed Frankenstein’s monster. But you also can’t dismiss everything.

Here’s a framework for deciding when to make changes:

  1. Look for Patterns, Not Just Individual Comments: If multiple beta readers (especially those with diverse reading tastes) highlight the same plot hole, character inconsistency, confusing timeline, or pacing issue, pay attention. This is a flashing red light. A single comment might be an anomaly; a pattern is a problem.
  2. Does It Resonate with Your Gut? Often, when a beta reader points out a flaw, there’s a quiet voice in the back of your head that says, “Yeah, I kind of knew that.” Trust that feeling. If the feedback confirms a nagging doubt you already had, it’s likely a change worth making.
  3. Distinguish Between “Preference” and “Problem”:
    • Preference: “I wish the villain had a different motivation,” or “I prefer faster pacing.” These are subjective. Consider them, but don’t feel obligated to change unless they align with a broader pattern or your own vision.
    • Problem: “I didn’t understand why the character did X, it felt out of character,” or “The plot felt like it stopped completely in the middle section.” These indicate a structural or logical issue that needs addressing.
  4. Consider the Scope:
    • Fundamental Flaws: Issues with plot, character arc, world-building logic, or core themes require significant attention. These are the “punch to the gut” feedbacks that, while painful, are vital to fix. They often require rewriting entire sections.
    • Mid-Level Issues: Pacing problems, confusing descriptions, minor character inconsistencies. These might require trimming, expanding, or clearer exposition.
    • Minor Edits: Typos, grammatical errors, word choices. These are easily fixable during the copyediting stage.
  5. Give Yourself Time: Don’t react immediately. Read all the feedback, then walk away for a few days (or even a week). Let your emotions settle. When you return, you’ll be able to assess the comments more objectively.

The beta reader process is less about them finding flaws and more about them helping you find the strongest version of your story. It’s a crucible, yes, but one that hones your craft and your manuscript. Embrace the chaos, learn from the feedback, and have the courage to make the changes that will truly elevate your narrative. Your stronger story (and thicker skin) will thank you for it.

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Riga

Beyond the Crowds: Riga’s Top 5 Distinctive & Unforgettable Hidden Gems

Riga. The name itself conjures images of cobblestone streets, vibrant Art Nouveau facades, and the bustling energy of its UNESCO-listed Old Town. And while these iconic sights are undoubtedly charming, sometimes the most profound travel experiences are found just a little off the well-trodden path.

For the discerning traveller who yearns for authenticity without the elbow-to-elbow crowds, who seeks distinctive features and stories that resonate long after the trip is over, Riga holds a treasure trove of quieter wonders. So, put down that mainstream guide and join me on a journey to uncover five visitor attractions in Riga that promise unique character and peaceful exploration.

1. The Zanis Lipke Memorial: A Testament to Humanity

More than just a museum, the Zanis Lipke Memorial is a profound architectural and emotional experience. Hidden away on Ķīpsala island, this striking black tarred wooden structure resembles an inverted Noah’s Ark, built directly over the secret bunker where Zanis Lipke, a dockworker, hid and saved over 50 Jews from the Holocaust during WWII.

Distinctive Features: The building itself is an architectural marvel – stark, symbolic, and deeply moving. Inside, a narrow, dark passage leads down into the actual bunker, immersing you in the chilling reality of those hidden. The design perfectly complements the powerful story of courage and sacrifice, creating a space for quiet introspection and remembrance. It’s rarely crowded, allowing you to absorb its sombre beauty and the incredible human spirit it honours at your own pace.

2. The Latvian Ethnographic Open-Air Museum: A Walk Through Time

Escape the city entirely and step into rural Latvia from centuries past at the Latvian Ethnographic Open-Air Museum. Sprawling across a vast, picturesque forest on the shores of Lake Jugla, this is one of Europe’s largest open-air museums. It features nearly 120 traditional Latvian buildings – farmsteads, churches, windmills, and fishing villages – painstakingly moved from various regions of Latvia and reconstructed here.

Distinctive Features: Each building tells a story, showcasing the lifestyle, crafts, and traditions of Latvian peasants, fishermen, and artisans from the 17th to the 20th centuries. You can wander through authentic homes, see traditional tools, and often witness artisans demonstrating ancient crafts. Due to its sheer size and slightly out-of-the-way location (easily reachable by bus), it rarely feels crowded, offering ample space to stroll, reflect, and enjoy the tranquil natural surroundings. It’s a living history book under the open sky.

3. Kalnciema Quarter: Wooden Architecture & Bohemian Vibes

While parts of Riga are famous for Art Nouveau, the Kalnciema Quarter offers a different, equally captivating architectural experience: beautifully restored wooden buildings. This charming neighbourhood, a bit west of the Old Town, is a vibrant cultural hub, especially on weekends.

Distinctive Features: The cluster of meticulously renovated 19th-century wooden houses, each with intricate carvings and pastel hues, creates an almost fairytale-like atmosphere. Beyond the architecture, the quarter hosts organic food and craft markets, open-air concerts, art exhibitions, and pop-up cafes – all within a relaxed, community-focused setting. While market days bring a lively buzz, it’s a far cry from the tourist throngs, offering a genuine glimpse into Riga’s modern bohemian culture against a stunning historical backdrop.

4. The Corner House (KGB Museum): A Chilling Echo of the Past

For a powerful and sobering experience, visit “The Corner House” (Stūra Māja), the former headquarters of the Soviet KGB in Latvia. This imposing building, now a museum, is a stark reminder of Latvia’s turbulent 20th century.

Distinctive Features: A visit here is not just about exhibits; it’s about walking through history. You can explore the original cells, interrogation rooms, the former waiting rooms, and the chilling exercise yard. The atmosphere is sombre and reflective, offering a raw and unfiltered look at the methods and impact of the Soviet regime. While popular, the nature of the visit (often guided tours through specific areas) means it rarely feels overwhelmingly crowded, allowing for a deeply personal engagement with this poignant piece of history.

5. Miera Iela & The Great Cemetery: Artisanal Charm Meets Serene History

Combine two distinctive, less-trafficked experiences by exploring Miera Iela (Peace Street) and its adjacent Great Cemetery. Miera Iela has earned the nickname “hipster street” for its collection of independent cafes, artisan boutiques, small art galleries, and vintage shops.

Distinctive Features: Miera Iela offers a refreshing contrast to the Old Town, showcasing Riga’s contemporary, creative pulse. Stroll, grab a coffee, browse unique items. Just a stone’s throw away, you’ll find the Great Cemetery (Lielie Kapi). Far from morbid, this historic cemetery is a sprawling, peaceful park adorned with magnificent sculptures, grand mausoleums, and ancient trees. It’s a place of quiet beauty and historical significance, where many notable Latvians are laid to rest, and where you can enjoy a serene walk amidst stunning funerary art and natural tranquillity, almost always in solitude.

Riga is a city that keeps on giving, especially when you’re willing to venture slightly off the beaten path. These five distinctive attractions offer not just sights, but stories, emotions, and a deeper connection to the heart of Latvia, all within the tranquil embrace of fewer crowds.

Have you visited any of these hidden gems in Riga, or found other distinctive, uncrowded spots? Share your experiences in the comments below!

What I learned about writing – Trying not to get into a ‘rut’

I feel like I’m on the outside looking in at this poor fellow struggling to work out what needs to be done, and in the end, getting nothing done.

Writing had suddenly become all that more difficult to do, not because I can’t, there’s an endless supply of ideas running around in my head, it’s just wanting to sit down and do it.

What are my expectations? 

I had set a list of projects I wanted to work on, more episodes for the three continuing stories, and a start to the next episodic story, ‘motive, means, and opportunity’, though for this story I have brought together all the writing I’ve been doing in past few months.

Then there is the completion of ‘the things we do for love’ which at long last now has a completed second draft with a lot of updates and changes to properly reflect the situation of the characters.  I have also got ‘strangers we’ve become’ to a point where it can finally get editorial sign-off. Publishing is not far away after that.

It would be easy to blame COVID 19 for the delays or the lack of commitment to the task, but that’s not the problem.  I’ve been home and had the time, but there have been a number of distractions, and ideas for new stories always seem to divert my attention from what I should be doing.

It’s not writer’s block.  It’s not laziness.  It seems that I just don’t have the time to work on them, and that might be because my subconscious is telling me there are problems with the narrative, and I’m just not ready to address them.

What has got my attention then?

I’m not sure how or why, but something triggered the idea of passing through a portal into another time, in the past.  I think I might have been looking for photographs to write another photo/story, and I came across a covered bridge, and which led to looking for photographs of ghost towns.  What topped it off, there was an old western in black and white, High Noon, which provoked a whole lot of memories of many westerns I’d seen in the past.

What other reason do you need to write your own story?

Then, when visiting my grandchildren, we just happened to do some stargazing, using Google Sky Map, picking out the planets.  Somehow I managed to take a photo, and looking at it, took me back to the days of Star Trek, and the many series, which sort of gave me an idea for another story, which has been running off and on over the last few months.

Equally, I’m always on the lookout for photo opportunities that I can use to write short stories, and these continue apace, the latest, number 150.  These are being formed into anthologies, stories 1 to 50, and stories 51 to 100.  The first has been assembled into book form and is awaiting the editor’s first reading and report.  I’m still working on the second.

And, now there is the next, stories 101 to 150.

Perhaps some of the time has been spent keeping up with Twitter, where over the last six months, and more recently, sales of my books on Amazon have been increasing.  Not to best-seller numbers, but people are reading my stories, and the reviews have been very good.

It has, of course, pushed me to work harder on marketing and that has consumed some of my time, which unfortunately takes me away from writing.  It sometimes feels like a self-defeating exercise, but it is the same for all of us.

Oh, and something else that cropped up this month, my brother has been digging into our family history, and around the middle of the month, he found some interesting revelations about some family members, including a pseudo-Luddite that ended up in Tasmania of all places, and then later on, when chasing down the places that we, as a family, lived, and this brought out some very interesting information about our father.

I’m discovering for what I’d always assumed was an ordinary man, he had done a lot of very interesting things in his life, and not only that, I’ve been fictionalizing the story.  I have potted pieces written over various stages, and, one day, it might come together as a sort of biography.  It is astonishing just how much you don’t know about your family, until much later on, at least for some of us.  Our relatives have always been a mystery to me, and it’s fascinating as each one is brought to life with a new detail here and there.

Looking back on what I’ve just written, perhaps the passing of time had been more productive than I first thought.  It just seems like nothing major has happened.

Another excerpt from ‘Betrayal’; a work in progress

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My next destination in the quest was the hotel we believed Anne Merriweather had stayed at.

I was, in a sense, flying blind because we had no concrete evidence she had been there, and the message she had left behind didn’t quite name the hotel or where Vladimir was going to take her.

Mindful of the fact that someone might have been following me, I checked to see if the person I’d assumed had followed me to Elizabeth’s apartment was still in place, but I couldn’t see him. Next, I made a mental note of seven different candidates and committed them to memory.

Then I set off to the hotel, hailing a taxi. There was the possibility the cab driver was one of them, but perhaps I was slightly more paranoid than I should be. I’d been watching the queue, and there were two others before me.

The journey took about an hour, during which time I kept an eye out the back to see if anyone had been following us. If anyone was, I couldn’t see them.

I had the cab drop me off a block from the hotel and then spent the next hour doing a complete circuit of the block the hotel was on, checking the front and rear entrances, the cameras in place, and the siting of the driveway into the underground carpark. There was a camera over the entrance, and one we hadn’t checked for footage. I sent a text message to Fritz to look into it.

The hotel lobby was large and busy, which was exactly what you’d want if you wanted to come and go without standing out. It would be different later at night, but I could see her arriving about mid-afternoon, and anonymous among the type of clientele the hotel attracted.

I spent an hour sitting in various positions in the lobby simply observing. I had already ascertained where the elevator lobby for the rooms was, and the elevator down to the car park. Fortunately, it was not ‘guarded’ but there was a steady stream of concierge staff coming and going to the lower levels, and, just from time to time, guests.

Then, when there was a commotion at the front door, what seemed to be a collision of guests and free-wheeling bags, I saw one of the seven potential taggers sitting by the front door. Waiting for me to leave? Or were they wondering why I was spending so much time there?

Taking advantage of that confusion, I picked my moment to head for the elevators that went down to the car park, pressed the down button, and waited.

The was no car on the ground level, so I had to wait, watching, like several others, the guests untangling themselves at the entrance, and an eye on my potential surveillance, still absorbed in the confusion.

The doors to the left car opened, and a concierge stepped out, gave me a quick look, then headed back to his desk. I stepped into the car, pressed the first level down, the level I expected cars to arrive on, and waited what seemed like a long time for the doors to close.

As they did, I was expecting to see a hand poke through the gap, a latecomer. Nothing happened, and I put it down to a television moment.

There were three basement levels, and for a moment, I let my imagination run wild and considered the possibility that there were more levels. Of course, there was no indication on the control panel that there were any other floors, and I’d yet to see anything like it in reality.

With a shake of my head to return to reality, the car arrived, the doors opened, and I stepped out.

A car pulled up, and the driver stepped out, went around to the rear of his car, and pulled out a case. I half expected him to throw me the keys, but the instant glance he gave me told him was not the concierge, and instead brushed past me like I wasn’t there.

He bashed the up button several times impatiently and cursed when the doors didn’t open immediately. Not a happy man.

Another car drove past on its way down to a lower level.

I looked up and saw the CCTV camera, pointing towards the entrance, visible in the distance. A gate that lifted up was just about back in position and then made a clunk when it finally closed. The footage from the camera would not prove much, even if it had been working, because it didn’t cover the life lobby, only in the direction of the car entrance.

The doors to the other elevator car opened, and a man in a suit stepped out.

“Can I help you, sir? You seem lost.”

Security, or something else. “It seems that way. I went to the elevator lobby, got in, and it went down rather than up. I must have been in the wrong place.”

“Lost it is, then, sir.” I could hear the contempt for Americans in his tone. “If you will accompany me, please.”

He put out a hand ready to guide me back into the elevator. I was only too happy to oblige him. There had been a sign near the button panel that said the basement levels were only to be accessed by the guests.

Once inside, he turned a key and pressed the lobby button. The doors closed, and we went up. He stood, facing the door, not speaking. A few seconds later, he was ushering me out to the lobby.

“Now, sir, if you are a guest…”

“Actually, I’m looking for one. She called me and said she would be staying in this hotel and to come down and visit her. I was trying to get to the sixth floor.”

“Good. Let’s go over the the desk and see what we can do for you.”

I followed him over to the reception desk, where he signalled one of the clerks, a young woman who looked and acted very efficiently, and told her of my request, but then remained to oversee the proceeding.

“Name of guest, sir?”

“Merriweather, Anne. I’m her brother, Alexander.” I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my passport to prove that I was who I said I was. She glanced cursorily at it.

She typed the name into the computer, and then we waited a few seconds while it considered what to output. Then, she said, “That lady is not in the hotel, sir.”

Time to put on my best-confused look. “But she said she would be staying here for the week. I made a special trip to come here to see her.”

Another puzzled look from the clerk, then, “When did she call you?”

An interesting question to ask, and it set off a warning bell in my head. I couldn’t say today, it would have to be the day she was supposedly taken.

“Last Saturday, about four in the afternoon.”

Another look at the screen, then, “It appears she checked out Sunday morning. I’m afraid you have made a trip in vain.”

Indeed, I had. “Was she staying with anyone?”

I just managed to see the warning pass from the suited man to the clerk. I thought he had shown an interest when I mentioned the name, and now I had confirmation. He knew something about her disappearance. The trouble was, he wasn’t going to volunteer any information because he was more than just hotel security.

“No.”

“Odd,” I muttered. “I thought she told me she was staying with a man named Vladimir something or other. I’m not too good at pronouncing those Russian names. Are you sure?”

She didn’t look back at the screen. “Yes.”

“OK, now one thing I do know about staying in hotels is that you are required to ask guests with foreign passports their next destination, just in case they need to be found. Did she say where she was going next?” It was a long shot, but I thought I’d ask.

“Moscow. As I understand it, she lives in Moscow. That was the only address she gave us.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I know where that is. I probably should have gone there first.”

She didn’t answer; she didn’t have to, her expression did that perfectly.

The suited man spoke again, looking at the clerk. “Thank you.” He swivelled back to me. “I’m sorry we can’t help you.”

“No. You have more than you can know.”

“What was your name again, sir, just in case you still cannot find her?”

“Alexander Merriweather. Her brother. And if she is still missing, I will be posting a very large reward. At the moment, you can best contact me via the American Embassy.”

Money is always a great motivator, and that thoughtful expression on his face suggested he gave a moment’s thought to it.

I left him with that offer and left. If anything, the people who were holding her would know she had a brother, that her brother was looking for her, and equally that brother had money.

…

© Charles Heath – 2018-2025

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Oslo

Oslo’s Quiet Gems: 5 Distinctive Attractions That Skip the Tourist Crowds

Oslo is a city defined by breathtaking fjords, modern architectural marvels, and world-class museums. While favourites like the Opera House and the bustling Vigeland Sculpture Park deserve their accolades, sometimes the best travel memories are forged in the quiet corners—those distinctive spots overlooked by the masses.

If you are seeking authenticity, tranquillity, and attractions that offer a truly unique Norwegian flavour without the elbow-to-elbow experience, put down the guidebook and follow our list.

Here are five distinctive Oslo attractions where you can slow down and savour the discovery.

1. Ekebergparken (Ekeberg Sculpture Park)

While Oslo has many incredible viewpoints, few combine panoramic vistas with world-class contemporary art quite like Ekebergparken. Located on the hillside southeast of the city centre, this park is less of a museum and more of an experience.

What Makes it Distinctive? The park features works by international greats like James Turrell, Marina Abramović, and Louise Bourgeois, cleverly integrated into the natural forest landscape. Beyond the art, the site itself is historically significant, featuring ancient rock carvings and WWII bunkers. Critically, these park trails offer one of the best and least crowded settings for capturing the iconic view immortalised in Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.”

Why It’s Uncrowded: It requires a short tram ride up the hill (Line 18 or 19 to Ekebergparken stop), which deters many tourists from sticking solely to the central harbour area.

2. The Emanuel Vigeland Mausoleum

Prepare yourself for a truly unique, slightly macabre, and deeply rewarding experience. While Gustav Vigeland’s towering statues draw millions, his highly eccentric brother Emanuel created a private, haunting masterpiece—his own mausoleum and final resting place.

What Makes it Distinctive? The entire interior of the small, unmarked structure is a dark, barrel-vaulted room adorned with frescoes collectively titled Vita (Life). The ceiling-to-floor artwork depicts dramatic, often heavy themes of human life, death, and sexuality. The atmosphere is deliberately intense: the lights are kept very low, and the acoustics are so sensitive that a caretaker politely requests silence to enhance the feeling of solemn isolation.

Why It’s Uncrowded: It has extremely limited opening hours (usually Sunday afternoons only), making it challenging to visit—which is exactly why it remains a hidden gem for dedicated travellers.

3. Hovedøya Island (The Main Island)

For an immediate escape from city life, hop on a short ferry ride (Boat B1, B2, B3, or B4) from Aker Brygge and head to Hovedøya, the largest and most historically rich island in the Oslo Fjord.

What Makes it Distinctive? Hovedøya offers a perfect blend of lush nature, bathing spots, and fascinating ruins. Within minutes of arriving, you can explore the preserved Cistercian monastery ruins dating back to 1147. Later, the island served as a military base, and you can still find remnants of old defensive structures. Wander the trails, enjoy a picnic by the water, or simply study the medieval stone walls, all while enjoying the crisp fjord air.

Why It’s Uncrowded: While popular with Oslo locals in the height of summer, international tourists often overlook the entire island system in favour of mainland attractions. The short boat journey feels like a genuine adventure but keeps the large tour groups away.

4. Damstredet and Telthusbakken

While Oslo is a modern capital, pockets of its wooden house past remain beautifully preserved. A short walk uphill from the central areas of the city brings you to the charming, picturesque streets of Damstredet and Telthusbakken.

What Makes it Distinctive? These two winding cobblestone streets feel like stepping into a storybook. Lined with perfectly maintained, brightly colored wooden houses from the 18th and 19th centuries, the whole atmosphere speaks of quiet history. Damstredet in particular offers splendid photo opportunities and a glimpse into how many Oslo residents lived before the major urban modernisation programs.

Why It’s Uncrowded: This attraction is purely residential and free. It requires no ticket and isn’t featured on organised group tours. It’s a perfect addition to a self-guided walking tour between the city centre and the tranquil Vår Frelser Cemetery (another quiet spot worth stopping at).

5. The Tøyen Botanical Garden (Botanisk Hage)

Located just outside the buzzing central districts in the Tøyen neighbourhood, Oslo’s Botanical Garden is a serene and scientifically significant outdoor museum that most tourists walk right past on their way to the newer attractions.

What Makes it Distinctive? Managed by the Natural History Museum, the garden is Norway’s oldest and most diverse living collection. Visitors can explore various climate zones within the beautiful Palm House and the Victoria House (home to massive water lilies). The highlight is often the peaceful Scent Garden, designed specifically for the visually impaired, and the historic Old Garden, showcasing plants used for food and medicine throughout Norwegian history.

Why It’s Uncrowded: Despite its beauty and central location near the Munch Museum, the garden offers ample space and shaded trails, meaning the large foot traffic in the area quickly dissipates once you enter the gates. It’s a perfect green lung for contemplation.

Seeking the Authentic Oslo

By prioritizing these five distinctive, yet uncrowded, locations, you gain a deeper understanding of Oslo’s rich history, its commitment to art integration, and the beautiful relationship Norwegians have with their surrounding nature.

Skip the queue, find your quiet corner, and enjoy the authentic pulse of this incredible Nordic capital.

Have you discovered a quiet spot in Oslo that you love? Share your hidden gem in the comments below!

“Sunday in New York”, a romantic adventure that’s not a walk in the park!

“Sunday in New York” is ultimately a story about trust, and what happens when a marriage is stretched to its limits.

When Harry Steele attends a lunch with his manager, Barclay, to discuss a promotion that any junior executive would accept in a heartbeat, it is the fact his wife, Alison, who previously professed her reservations about Barclay, also agreed to attend, that casts a small element of doubt in his mind.

From that moment, his life, in the company, in deciding what to do, his marriage, his very life, spirals out of control.

There is no one big factor that can prove Harry’s worst fears, that his marriage is over, just a number of small, interconnecting events, when piled on top of each other, points to a cataclysmic end to everything he had believed in.

Trust is lost firstly in his best friend and mentor, Andy, who only hints of impending disaster, Sasha, a woman whom he saved, and who appears to have motives of her own, and then in his wife, Alison, as he discovered piece by piece damning evidence she is about to leave him for another man.

Can we trust what we see with our eyes or trust what we hear?

Haven’t we all jumped to conclusions at least once in our lives?

Can Alison, a woman whose self-belief and confidence is about to be put to the ultimate test, find a way of proving their relationship is as strong as it has ever been?

As they say in the classics, read on!

Purchase:

http://tinyurl.com/Amazon-SundayInNewYork

Writing a book in 365 days – My Story 46

More about my story – And more on the subject of Beta readers!

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The Beta Reader Gauntlet: Navigating Feedback That Feels Like a Punch to the Gut

Here’s the thing.

Every writer knows this quiet dread, this cold sweat moment that hits long before the manuscript is even finished: What if the beta readers find a fundamental flaw in the story? What if the very foundations you’ve painstakingly laid turn out to be cracked, crumbling, or just plain wonky?

It’s a terrifying thought, but let’s be honest with ourselves: it’s a very real possibility.

The Unseen Chaos of Creation

When you’re deep in the trenches of writing, especially over an extended period, the process itself can create inconsistencies. We’ve all been there:

  • Disjointed Aspects: Plot threads we thought we’d tied up suddenly unravel, or new ones appear from nowhere, leaving logical gaps.
  • Character Trait Drift: Isabel started as a shy introvert, but by chapter 15, she’s leading the charge and cracking jokes. Did she have an arc, or did we just forget her initial persona?
  • Name Changes & Forgotten Details: That minor character, Officer Jenkins, who mysteriously became Sergeant Miller a few chapters later. Or the key plot point about a missing locket, which was actually a ring earlier in the draft.
  • Lost Flow: Life happens. We write in bursts, in fragments, around jobs and families. The initial spark, the driving rhythm of the narrative, can get fragmented, leaving jarring transitions or a meandering pace.

These internal shifts, often invisible to our own eyes because we’re so close to the material, are precisely what beta readers are designed to unearth. And boy, can that unearthing feel brutal.

The Character Conundrum: Loved vs. Loathed

Then there’s the beloved protagonist. You’ve poured your heart and soul into them. They’re complex, relatable, flawed – everything a great character should be. You send your manuscript out, excited for feedback, only to get this:

“I absolutely adore Elara! She’s so resilient and genuine.” …followed by… “Honestly, Elara was pretty annoying. I found her whiny and self-absorbed.”

Is there something wrong with your character? Is the conflicting feedback a sign of a fundamental flaw, or simply a matter of taste? This is where the true beta reader dilemma kicks in.

It’s tempting to panic, to immediately question everything you thought you knew about your protagonist. But before you rewrite their entire personality, let’s unpack this.

The Truth About Character Reception: No character, no matter how perfectly crafted, will be universally loved. Some of the most iconic characters in literature and film are divisive for a reason – their complexity sparks strong opinions. The goal isn’t universal adoration; it’s usually about creating a character who resonates meaningfully with your intended audience, or who effectively serves their role in the story.

Ask Deeper Questions:

  • Why did they find them annoying/likable? Is the “annoying” feedback due to genuine inconsistency or a lack of motivation for their actions? Or is it because the character embodies traits that simply rub that particular reader the wrong way (which might be the point of the character)?
  • Does the character achieve their intended purpose? If your character is meant to be a bit abrasive at first, but grows, then initial annoyance might not be a flaw. If they’re meant to be inspiring, and everyone finds them annoying, that’s a problem.
  • Is there a pattern? If one person finds them annoying and ten others love them, perhaps it’s an outlier opinion. If six out of ten find them annoying, it’s time to investigate further.

The Million-Dollar Question: At What Point Do You Consider Changes?

This is the ultimate balancing act of the beta reader process. You can’t implement every single suggestion, or your story will become a disjointed Frankenstein’s monster. But you also can’t dismiss everything.

Here’s a framework for deciding when to make changes:

  1. Look for Patterns, Not Just Individual Comments: If multiple beta readers (especially those with diverse reading tastes) highlight the same plot hole, character inconsistency, confusing timeline, or pacing issue, pay attention. This is a flashing red light. A single comment might be an anomaly; a pattern is a problem.
  2. Does It Resonate with Your Gut? Often, when a beta reader points out a flaw, there’s a quiet voice in the back of your head that says, “Yeah, I kind of knew that.” Trust that feeling. If the feedback confirms a nagging doubt you already had, it’s likely a change worth making.
  3. Distinguish Between “Preference” and “Problem”:
    • Preference: “I wish the villain had a different motivation,” or “I prefer faster pacing.” These are subjective. Consider them, but don’t feel obligated to change unless they align with a broader pattern or your own vision.
    • Problem: “I didn’t understand why the character did X, it felt out of character,” or “The plot felt like it stopped completely in the middle section.” These indicate a structural or logical issue that needs addressing.
  4. Consider the Scope:
    • Fundamental Flaws: Issues with plot, character arc, world-building logic, or core themes require significant attention. These are the “punch to the gut” feedbacks that, while painful, are vital to fix. They often require rewriting entire sections.
    • Mid-Level Issues: Pacing problems, confusing descriptions, minor character inconsistencies. These might require trimming, expanding, or clearer exposition.
    • Minor Edits: Typos, grammatical errors, word choices. These are easily fixable during the copyediting stage.
  5. Give Yourself Time: Don’t react immediately. Read all the feedback, then walk away for a few days (or even a week). Let your emotions settle. When you return, you’ll be able to assess the comments more objectively.

The beta reader process is less about them finding flaws and more about them helping you find the strongest version of your story. It’s a crucible, yes, but one that hones your craft and your manuscript. Embrace the chaos, learn from the feedback, and have the courage to make the changes that will truly elevate your narrative. Your stronger story (and thicker skin) will thank you for it.

In a word: Dry

We all know what this means, without moisture, in other words not wet.

It could also mean dull factually, as in reading some non-fiction books, and quite often those prescribed as mandatory reading at school.

You could also have a dry sense of humour, where you have to be on your game to understand, or get, the humour.

It could also describe boredom by saying that it’s like watching paint dry.

For those who like a bit of a tipple, the last place you want to go is a dry bar, where no alcohol is served.

Perhaps this should be mandatory for weddings and funerals, places where feelings often run very high and do not need the stimulus of half a dozen double Scotches.

And speaking of alcohol and cider in particular, you can have it sweet, dry, or draft. Many people prefer dry, sometimes the drier the better, especially wine, and oddly martinis.

Aside from whether they are shaken or stirred.

But the most fascinating version of dry is dry cleaning. Just how can you ‘dry’ clean clothes?

Would that be what they call an oxymoron?

An excerpt from “What Sets Us Apart”, a mystery with a twist

See the excerpt from the story below, just a taste of what’s in store…

http://amzn.to/2Eryfth

whatsetscover

McCallister was old school, a man who would most likely fit in perfectly campaigning on the battlefields of Europe during the Second World War. He’d been like a fish out of water in the army, post-Falklands, and while he retired a hero, he still felt he’d more to give.

He’d applied and was accepted as head of a SWAT team, and, watching him now as he and his men disembarked from the truck in almost military precision, a look passed between Annette, the police liaison officer, and I that said she’d seen it all before. I know I had.

There was a one in four chance his team would be selected for this operation, and she had been hoping it would be one of the other three. While waiting for them to arrive she filled me in on the various teams. His was the least co-operative, and the more likely to make ad-hoc decisions rather than adhere to the plan, or any orders that may come from the officer in charge.

This, she said quite bluntly, was going to end badly.

I still had no idea why Prendergast instructed me to attend the scene of what looked to be a normal domestic operation, but as the nominated expert in the field in these types of situations, it was fairly clear he wasn’t taking any chances. It was always a matter of opinion between us, and generally I lost.

In this case, it was an anonymous report identifying what the authorities believed were explosives in one of the dockside sheds where explosives were not supposed to be.

The only reason why the report was given any credence was the man, while not identifying himself by name, said he’d been an explosive expert once and recognized the boxes. That could mean anything, but the Chief Constable was a cautious man.

With his men settled and preparing their weapons, McCallister came over to the command post, not much more than the SUV my liaison and I arrived in, with weapons, bulletproof vests, and rolls of tape to cordon off the area afterward. We both had coffee, steaming in the cold early morning air. Dawn was slowly approaching and although rain had been forecast it had yet to arrive.

A man by the name of Benson was in charge. He too had groaned when he saw McCallister.

“A fine morning for it.” McCallister was the only enthusiastic one here.

He didn’t say what ‘it’ was, but I thought it might eventually be mayhem.

“Let’s hope the rain stays away. It’s going to be difficult enough without it,” Benson said, rubbing his hands together. We had been waiting for the SWAT team to arrive, and another team to take up their position under the wharf, and who was in the final stages of securing their position.

While we were waiting we drew up the plan. I’d go in first to check on what we were dealing with, and what type of explosives. The SWAT team, in the meantime, were to ensure all the exits to the shed were covered. When I gave the signal, they were to enter and secure the building. We were not expecting anyone inside or out, and no movement had been detected in the last hour since our arrival and deployment.

“What’s the current situation?”

“I’ve got eyes on the building, and a team coming in from the waterside, underneath. Its slow progress, but they’re nearly there. Once they’re in place, we’re sending McKenzie in.”

He looked in my direction.

“With due respect sir, shouldn’t it be one of us?” McCallister glared at me with the contempt that only a decorated military officer could.

“No. I have orders from above, much higher than I care to argue with, so, McCallister, no gung-ho heroics for the moment. Just be ready to move on my command, and make sure you have three teams at the exit points, ready to secure the building.”

McCallister opened his mouth, no doubt to question those orders, but instead closed it again. “Yes sir,” he muttered and turned away heading back to his men.

“You’re not going to have much time before he storms the battlements,” Benson quietly said to me, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “I’m dreading the paperwork.”

It was exactly what my liaison officer said when she saw McCallister arriving.

The water team sent their ‘in position’ signal, and we were ready to go.

In the hour or so we’d been on site nothing had stirred, no arrivals, no departures, and no sign anyone was inside, but that didn’t mean we were alone. Nor did it mean I was going to walk in and see immediately what was going on. If it was a cache of explosives then it was possible the building was booby-trapped in any number of ways, there could be sentries or guards, and they had eyes on us, or it might be a false alarm.

I was hoping for the latter.

I put on the bulletproof vest, thinking it was a poor substitute for full battle armor against an exploding bomb, but we were still treating this as a ‘suspected’ case. I noticed my liaison officer was pulling on her bulletproof vest too.

“You don’t have to go. This is my party, not yours,” I said.

“The Chief Constable told me to stick to you like glue, sir.”

I looked at Benson. “Talk some sense into her please, this is not a kindergarten outing.”

He shrugged. Seeing McCallister had taken all the fight out of him. “Orders are orders. If that’s what the Chief Constable requested …”

Madness. I glared at her, and she gave me a wan smile. “Stay behind me then, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Believe me, I won’t be.” She pulled out and checked her weapon, chambering the first round. It made a reassuring sound.

Suited up, weapons readied, a last sip of the coffee in a stomach that was already churning from nerves and tension, I looked at the target, one hundred yards distant and thought it was going to be the longest hundred yards I’d ever traversed. At least for this week.

A swirling mist rolled in and caused a slight change in plans.

Because the front of the buildings was constantly illuminated by large overhead arc lamps, my intention had been to approach the building from the rear where there was less light and more cover. Despite the lack of movement, if there were explosives in that building, there’d be ‘enemy’ surveillance somewhere, and, after making that assumption, I believed it was going to be easier and less noticeable to use the darkness as a cover.

It was a result of the consultation, and studying the plans of the warehouse, plans that showed three entrances, the main front hangar type doors, a side entrance for truck entry and exit and a small door in the rear, at the end of an internal passage leading to several offices. I also assumed it was the exit used when smokers needed a break. Our entry would be by the rear door or failing that, the side entrance where a door was built into the larger sliding doors. In both cases, the locks would not present a problem.

The change in the weather made the approach shorter, and given the density of the mist now turning into a fog, we were able to approach by the front, hugging the walls, and moving quickly while there was cover. I could feel the dampness of the mist and shivered more than once.

It was nerves more than the cold.

I could also feel rather than see the presence of Annette behind me, and once felt her breath on my neck when we stopped for a quick reconnaissance.

It was the same for McCallister’s men. I could feel them following us, quickly and quietly, and expected, if I turned around, to see him breathing down my neck too.

It added to the tension.

My plan was still to enter by the back door.

We slipped up the alley between the two sheds to the rear corner and stopped. I heard a noise coming from the rear of the building, and the light tap on the shoulder told me Annette had heard it too. I put my hand up to signal her to wait, and as a swirl of mist rolled in, I slipped around the corner heading towards where I’d last seen the glow of a cigarette.

The mist cleared, and we saw each other at the same time. He was a bearded man in battle fatigues, not the average dockside security guard.

He was quick, but my slight element of surprise was his undoing, and he was down and unconscious in less than a few seconds with barely a sound beyond the body hitting the ground. Zip ties secured his hands and legs, and tape his mouth. Annette joined me a minute after securing him.

A glance at the body then me, “I can see why they, whoever they are, sent you.”

She’d asked who I worked for, and I didn’t answer. It was best she didn’t know.

“Stay behind me,” I said, more urgency in my tone. If there was one, there’d be another.

Luck was with us so far. A man outside smoking meant no booby traps on the back door, and quite possibly there’d be none inside. But it indicated there were more men inside, and if so, it appeared they were very well trained. If that were the case, they would be formidable opponents.

The fear factor increased exponentially.

I slowly opened the door and looked in. A pale light shone from within the warehouse itself, one that was not bright enough to be detected from outside. None of the offices had lights on, so it was possible they were vacant. I realized then they had blacked out the windows. Why hadn’t someone checked this?

Once inside, the door closed behind us, progress was slow and careful. She remained directly behind me, gun ready to shoot anything that moved. I had a momentary thought for McCallister and his men, securing the perimeter.

At the end of the corridor, the extent of the warehouse stretched before us. The pale lighting made it seem like a vast empty cavern, except for a long trestle table along one side, and, behind it, stacks of wooden crates, some opened. It looked like a production line.

To get to the table from where we were was a ten-yard walk in the open. There was no cover. If we stuck to the walls, there was equally no cover and a longer walk.

We needed a distraction.

As if on cue, the two main entrances disintegrated into flying shrapnel accompanied by a deafening explosion that momentarily disoriented both Annette and I. Through the smoke and dust kicked up I saw three men appear from behind the wooden crates, each with what looked like machine guns, spraying bullets in the direction of the incoming SWAT members.

They never had a chance, cut down before they made ten steps into the building.

By the time I’d recovered, my head heavy, eyes watering and ears still ringing, I took several steps towards them, managing to take down two of the gunmen but not the third.

I heard a voice, Annette’s I think, yell out, “Oh, God, he’s got a trigger,” just before another explosion, though all I remember in that split second was a bright flash, the intense heat, something very heavy smashing into my chest knocking the wind out of me, and then the sensation of flying, just before I hit the wall.

I spent four weeks in an induced coma, three months being stitched back together and another six learning to do all those basic actions everyone took for granted. It was twelve months almost to the day when I was released from the hospital, physically, except for a few alterations required after being hit by shrapnel, looking the same as I always had.

But mentally? The document I’d signed on release said it all, ‘not fit for active duty; discharged’.

It was in the name of David Cheney. For all intents and purposes, Alistair McKenzie was killed in that warehouse, and for the first time ever, an agent left the Department, the first to retire alive.

I was not sure I liked the idea of making history.

© Charles Heath 2016-2020

NANOWRIMO – November 2025 – Day 17

…

The Third Son of a Duke

…

Melbourne in March 1915. 

It’s the tail end of a hot summer.

Our protagonist is expecting to see all of his friends made on that epic voyage a year before.

It’s a moment of profound disappointment.

But it is to be expected.  He cannot expect that the world was going to sit still and wait for him to decide what he’s going to do.

After all, he was supposed to be up in Queensland chasing down errant cattle for what then was a foreseeable future.

Rose is off, having visited the cousins in Footscray, and was seeking new adventures in Bairnsdale, though it’s not clear how she met anyone from there, or how it is she found herself as chief bridesmaid at a wedding in Maffra.

Louise, the new possible love of his life, had taken what little nursing training she had and parlayed it into becoming a volunteer nurse for the army, having just left, not a week or two before, to head to the front to care for the wounded.

He might just find her in Egypt, making this story almost an epic love story.

And Margaret, still in Melbourne, who got the letter he sent that morning, which is why she is at the station to greet him.

He has mixed feelings about Margaret, which he has had since their encounter in Naples.

If it wasn’t for Louise…

…

2325 words, for a total of 27190 words.