Category: Writing

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 that 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 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.

There was no car on the ground level, so I had to wait, watching, like several others, the guests untangling themselves at the entrance, and keeping 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 he was not the concierge, and instead he 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, then clunked 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 lift lobby, only what was 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 to 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

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 295

Day 295 – Don’t tell the readers what they already know about life

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Why Charles Simic’s Advice to “Not Tell Readers What They Already Know” Can Transform Your Writing

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Introduction

“Don’t tell the readers what they already know about life.” — Charles Simic

Charles Simic, the Serbian‑American poet and former U.S. Poet Laureate, was famous for his razor‑sharp wit. This single line may sound almost like a tautology, but it holds a secret weapon for every writer: trust your audience.

When you assume readers have the same life experiences you do, you risk preaching, over‑explaining, and, ultimately, boring them. The modern reader craves connection, not instruction. In this post we’ll unpack Simic’s advice, see why it matters in today’s content‑driven world, and give you concrete steps to keep your prose fresh, resonant, and—most importantly—show rather than tell.

1. What Simic Really Meant

1.1 A reminder of the “show, don’t tell” principle

Simic’s statement is a riff on the classic show‑don’t‑tell mantra taught in every creative‑writing class. While “show” urges you to let actions, dialogue, and sensory details illustrate a point, Simic sharpens it: don’t waste precious words on truths the reader already carries.

1.2 Why it matters today

  • Attention economy: Online readers skim. A sentence that restates the obvious is a fast track to bounce‑rate.
  • Reader empowerment: Audiences enjoy the pleasure of discovering meaning themselves. It feels like a partnership, not a lecture.
  • Depth over surface: By discarding the obvious, you free up space for nuance, subtext, and emotional resonance.

2. The Pitfalls of Over‑Explaining

Common Over‑ExplainersWhy They FailBetter Alternative
Heavy “moral of the story” statementsFeels preachy; removes reader agencyLet the narrative’s arc imply the lesson
Repeating universal truths (“love is painful”)Redundant; cheapens impactUse a specific anecdote that embodies the truth
Expository dumps under the guise of “background”Slows pacing; creates info‑overloadWeave backstory into dialogue, setting, and action
Overly literal metaphors (“the storm raged like a lion” )Cluttered, clichéChoose fresh, concrete images that spark imagination

3. Trusting Your Reader’s Intuition

3.1 Readers bring their own life experience

Even if you think a concept is obvious, each reader’s cultural background, age, and personal history shape how they receive it. By offering breadcrumbs rather than a full meal, you respect their intelligence.

3.2 The “Goldilocks Zone” of information

  • Too little: Readers feel confused or alienated.
  • Just right: Readers fill gaps, feel involved, and remember the story.
  • Too much: The narrative becomes a lecture.

Finding the sweet spot is a skill—one we’ll develop in the next sections.

4. Techniques to “Show, Not Tell” the Known

4.1 Use specific, concrete details

Instead of saying “She was sad,” describe “She traced the rim of her coffee cup with a trembling finger, the steam fogging the window as her eyes refused to meet his.” The emotion is inferred, not stated.

4.2 Leverage dialogue

Let characters voice their worldview. A line like “I guess we’re all just trying to stay afloat” hints at life’s struggle without the author’s narration.

4.3 Play with sensory language

Touch, taste, sound, and smell evoke feeling. The scent of rain on pavement can conjure renewal without commenting on it.

4.4 Deploy subtext and implication

A character’s silence, a lingering glance, or an unfinished sentence can say more than an explicit explanation.

4.5 Trim expository filler

Ask yourself: Is this sentence necessary for plot, character, or theme? If the answer is “no,” cut it.

5. Embracing Ambiguity & Subtlety

Simic didn’t recommend vague writing for its own sake; he championed purposeful ambiguity. When you leave room for interpretation, you invite deeper engagement.

  • Open‑ended endings let readers project their own experiences onto the story.
  • Symbolic objects (a cracked mirror, a broken watch) can hold layered meaning.
  • Contradictory actions (a smile in grief) provoke curiosity and empathy.

6. Applying Simic’s Advice Across Genres

GenreWhat “don’t tell” looks likeExample
Literary fictionFocus on inner nuance, avoid moralizingInstead of “He realized love was fleeting,” show the wilted roses he places on the table.
ThrillerKeep suspense by revealing only what the protagonist knowsDon’t tell the reader the killer’s motive before the reveal.
Non‑fictionTrust readers to connect facts themselvesIn a business article, present data and let readers draw the conclusion.
Blog contentProvide actionable insights, not “obvious” adviceSkip “Write regularly” and share a unique workflow that helped you meet deadlines.
PoetryUse metaphor rather than declarative statementsRather than “Life is painful,” write “The night bleeds into the dawn.”

7. Common Mistakes & How to Fix Them

  1. Narrative “hand‑holding” – Fix: Cut adverbs that explain feelings; replace them with visual cues.
  2. Cliché overload – Fix: Replace generic phrases with fresh, sensory images.
  3. Over‑reliance on exposition – Fix: Convert exposition into scenes or dialogue.
  4. Assuming universality – Fix: Research diverse perspectives; test your piece with beta readers from varied backgrounds.

8. Practical Exercises

ExerciseGoalHow to Execute
The 30‑Word SceneStrip to essentialsDraft a scene in 30 words that conveys a full emotional beat.
Show‑Only RewriteReplace “telling” sentencesFind five “telling” lines in a recent draft and rewrite them using only actions, senses, or dialogue.
Reader Gap TestIdentify unnecessary explanationsShare a paragraph with a friend and ask them to “fill in the blanks” where they think you’ve over‑explained.
Metaphor HuntReplace generic statementsLocate any sentences that begin with “It was …” and replace them with a concrete metaphor.
Silence ExerciseUse subtextWrite a dialogue where the main conflict is never spoken outright.

9. Key Takeaways

  • Trust your audience. Readers bring their own life experience—don’t waste words reiterating the obvious.
  • Show, don’t tell with concrete details, dialogue, and sensory language.
  • Embrace ambiguity to create richer, more memorable writing.
  • Tailor the approach to your genre, but the core principle remains universal.
  • Practice relentlessly. Use the exercises above to train your instinct for what to leave unsaid.

10. Frequently Asked Questions

Q: Isn’t some exposition necessary for clarity?
A: Absolutely. The key is balance. Give readers only the information they need to stay oriented, and let the rest unfold organically.

Q: How do I know if I’m over‑explaining?
A: If a sentence could be replaced with a sensory detail or an action without losing meaning, you’re likely over‑explaining.

Q: What if my audience is younger or less experienced?
A: Adjust the depth of implied knowledge, but still avoid stating the obvious. Use relatable analogies instead of explicit explanation.

Q: Does this mean I should avoid “life lessons” altogether?
A: Not at all. Life lessons shine when they emerge from the narrative’s events, not from the author’s direct commentary.

Q: How can I apply this advice to SEO‑focused blog posts?
A: Write for humans first—use engaging storytelling, vivid examples, and data-driven insights. Then sprinkle SEO keywords naturally; avoid keyword‑stuffed “obvious” statements that sound like filler.

11. Closing Thought

Charles Simic’s advice isn’t a command to become cryptic—it’s an invitation to collaborate with your readers. By withholding the obvious, you give them space to connect the dots, feel the emotions, and remember the story. The next time you reach for a line that tells rather than shows, ask yourself: Does my reader already know this? If the answer is yes, let the scene breathe, and watch your writing become more alive, more authentic, and ultimately, more unforgettable.

Ready to rewrite? Grab your latest draft, highlight every sentence that says what instead of how, and start swapping the tell for the show. Your readers (and your Google rankings) will thank you.

“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 that 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 several small, interconnecting events, when piled on top of each other, point to a cataclysmic end to everything he had believed in.

Trust is lost firstly in his best friend and mentor, Andy, who only hints at 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 discovers piece by piece, damning evidence that 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 are 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!

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The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 16

A change in plans

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I couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t the fact that Cecilia was asleep in the next bed, though it was a little unsettling, more it was the series of events that got me to this point.

Something didn’t add up.

I had one of those sixth sense moments, one of the times when I did close my eyes, and in looking down on myself, tied to a chair, with Larry holding a gun to my head screaming it was all my fault.

In that scenario, it had been far too easy for him to take me.  And in the final moments of that reverie, before I opened my eyes, there was a blurred face in the background, the face of the traitor.

Only I could not get a clear view of who it was.

The bottom line, it was a trap.  Everything pointed to it, and while I wanted to believe what I had decided was the right option, Cecilia was right.  I had been out of the game too long’ and Rodby was right to send a set of fresh eyes.

Juliet was a pawn, coerced to do Larry’s will because of her brother, and her note was a story no doubt conceived out of careful planning on Larry’s part.  He was hoping I would treat him like a moron.

And the irrefutable truth of the matter was that Larry was not going to stop, not unless he had a compelling reason to.

It was about 2 in the morning when I got out of bed and shut myself in the bathroom, and sat on the floor seemingly staring into space, but running scenarios, like I used to. 

An hour later, I had a plan.

The first call was to Alfie who was, by a quirk of fate, still awake.

“This had better be good.”

Awake, but in a cranky mood.

“Larry’s in Sorrento with his family isn’t he?”

“Wife and eldest daughter.  The son is in Milan at the moment visiting another relative.  Why?”

“You’re going to have them picked up and taken to a place where we can talk.”

“Are you mad?”

“Quite sane, I assure you.”

“Rodby warned me this might happen.  Taking them is nigh on impossible given their security.”

“Not where I’m intending you pick them up.  Just assemble a team and wait for my text on where and when.”

“Rodby will never OK this.”

“Tell him it’s an opportunity not to be missed and to send his best interrogator.”

Without another word, he hung up. 

Rodby might think I was a little radical, and at times I was, but my successes outweighed the failures, and he had always wanted to get Larry into a one-on-one to answer some questions.  If he tried not to overthink it, this could turn out to be a genuine opportunity.

The second call was to Larry’s mother.  She had always been a night owl and I suspected she might be at a party somewhere given the rowdy background noise on her phone when she answered.

I said, “It’s been a while.”

Silence.  I had the awful feeling for a moment that she might either dismiss me or simply hang up.

Then, with a lot less background noise, she said, “nnn, how lovely to hear from you again.  I was sorry to hear about Violetta.  I came to the funeral but thought it best not to intrude.”

I had not seen her but I knew she would have come.  And she was right, I was in no fit state of mind that day to address anyone.

“I appreciate that.  Thank you.”

“Now, I know this is not a social call because my son is here and I’ve been waiting for a call.”

“Sorry.  I should have called you sooner but it’s been difficult especially to talk to those who knew her, and yes, it’s about Larry.  For some reason he’s decided to come after me, blaming me for his brother’s death.”

“No surprise to me, though.  It’s become his latest obsession.  The reason is obvious, especially to family.  The provisions of his fathers will come due in three weeks’ time, and if it’s proved that one brother killed the other, then he forfeits his half of the inheritance, and we are talking a lot of money and property.”

“You know the truth about his bother as well as I do.”

She had asked me to try and convince Fabio, Larry’s younger brother, not to join the family business and I had convinced him that it was his mother’s wish for him to go back to Italy where her family lived. 

That was when Larry stepped in and forced him to do one last job.  Larry should have been at the delivery, not send his brother in his place, and it did occur to me that Larry knew it was going to go bad.

I followed Fabio there, and witnessed the deal fall apart, the buyers were expecting Larry, not his brother.  But that was not the worst of it.  An armed gang came out of the shadows and started shooting.  I tried my best to protect Fabio, taking out the armed gang, but Fabio had been hit, but not fatally and even I left him, before the paramedics arrived, he was alive or conscious.

What happened from the moment I left him and he arrived dead on arrival at the hospital was only something Larry could explain.  I had provided his mother with physical proof of Fabio being alive at the meeting, and she too had questions that Larry had never adequately answered. 

“He will not believe me, and because if who I am, he has turned the others against me.  He has become smarter in the last few years.”

“Who’s helping him, I can’t believe he’s capable of doing all this on his own.”

“He says it is, actually bragging about it.”

“I was surprised Brenda and Valentina came with him.  She hates you.”  Brenda was his American wife, the daughter of Mafia Don, Valentina the daughter.

“And, that’s the hell of it.  You know the saying misfortune makes strange bedfellows, well, she tells me he’s having an affair, but I got the boys to have a look into the matter and it’s not an affair.  She is the head of a rival gang that’s been incrementally taking over our turf and now I know why.  She’s got him dangling in a string.”

A lot can happen in a few years.  The only rival gang that I could think of was the DeBortino’s.  If this woman was a problem perhaps the seeds of my plan could be extended slightly to help her with her problem and get rid of mine

“I want to get Larry off my back, and you want to be a good mother-in-law so perhaps we can help each other.”

“What do you have in mind.”

I told her, and at least she didn’t snort at the idea.

Then, after thinking about what Larry’s mother had said I sent a text message to Alfie asking for a deep dive into her life and business, and if she had any dark secrets.

Another idea had come to mind.

© Charles Heath 2023

“Echoes From The Past”, the past doesn’t necessarily stay there


What happens when your past finally catches up with you?

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Christmas is just around the corner, a time to be with family. For Will Mason, an orphan since he was fourteen, it is a time for reflection on what his life could have been, and what it could be.

Until a chance encounter brings back to life the reasons for his twenty years of self-imposed exile from a life only normal people could have. From that moment, Will’s life slowly starts to unravel, and it’s obvious to him that it’s time to move on.

This time, however, there is more at stake.

Will has broken his number one rule: don’t get involved.

With his nemesis, Eddie Jamieson, suddenly within reach, and a blossoming relationship with an office colleague, Maria, about to change everything, Will has to make a choice. Quietly leave, or finally, make a stand.

But as Will soon discovers, when other people are involved, there are going to be terrible consequences no matter what choice he makes.

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The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 48

A meeting of department heads

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First impressions, I was told, were everything.

Back on earth, before this mission, before I had been selected for the crew, we had to spend time learning diplomacy.

I didn’t mind it because I was used to working with multiple nationalities as crew members aboard the cargo ships I worked, some often at odds with each other, and I had to broker peace.

But this brand of diplomacy was more about meeting aliens from other worlds and what to do, even though those running the sessions really had no clue.  The problem was, we would have no idea of what their customs and rules were, much like on earth where the same applied, but you could look them up before going to an ‘alien’s destination.

I could say that now I had experienced one encounter.  And nothing we did in any of those sessions gave me any help or guidance on what I should do.  Yes, we may have learned a little about their culture, but that was never going to be enough, not in the time I had in front of them.

What needed to happen was for us to set up something similar to the old-time embassy where we could exchange information and prevent the problems of new travellers before they got here.  And there would be more travellers now we had the spaceships and not everyone was going to be a positive influence’ ad the Russian example quite clearly illustrated.

But, getting someone or some people to stay with unknown people on a relatively unknown planet, was going to be a difficult ask.

It was one of a dozen topics on the head of department meeting I had called immediately after being transported back to the ship’ joined by the Princess’ whom we had agreed to return to her people.

I suspect that the aliens who had all but incarcerated her did not want to wear the wrath of her people.  Perhaps we would be treated better and hopefully, we would be able to engage in meaningful diplomatic discussions.  It was a subject I had raised with the Princess when escorting her to her transit quarters. Accommodation befitting a Princess.

She was hateful to come aboard but she seemed apprehensive to go home.  That was something else that would fuel another conversation. Because there was definitely more to that story. I didn’t quite trust our so-called new friends.

The next task was to ensure the princess had a private security detail, and dampeners installed to prevent her being transported off the ship.

After that my first call was to the diplomatic unit where I gave them five minutes of my thoughts on the subject before heading back to my quarters to freshen up, and get down the bare bones of the report I was eventually hoping to send on our first encounter, one that I doubted was over yet. 

I will still be getting over the fact they knew of our existence, lived among us, and we had no idea.  And they didn’t believe we were worthy yet to be told.  Sadly, given my knowledge of humankind, I was not really surprised, but others like the Admiral would be shocked and offended and it was their reaction I was worried about.

It was also not so much of a surprise there were others out there, places and people, we knew nothing about because our telescopic technology still wasn’t up to see beyond the limits of our known galaxies and we were the first well technically the second to go beyond it.

And now we proved we could get to that theoretical barrier, set at Pluto, perhaps a telescope launched from there might help us see what was beyond in the first instance because they did hint at a number of civilisations with their own galaxy.

My idea would be to suggest caution and not hit them with a flood of ships but to spend time building a space station at the edge, and then launch exploratory forays from there, when it was complete.  It would take time ten or more years, but the aliens weren’t going anywhere.

But I knew it didn’t matter what I thought.  That was up to the Admiral and the rest of the Space Alliance, and they would want to be out there getting as many aliens on side, much the same as the others would.

The Russian ship had stayed long enough to offload the prisoners and get ready for the return trip.  That was going to be some homecoming because the Space Alliance was going to want answers long before it hit Earth’s outer limits.

Stolen technology, an unannounced foray into space that could have ultimately destroyed any chance of relations with our nearest space neighbours, I wouldn’t want to be the captain of that vessel, at home, or in front of an international jury.

It highlighted just how easy it was to make mistakes, or how badly everything could go wrong very quickly over a nuance.  His background hadn’t helped him either but that shoe could also have fitted elsewhere too.  I had been lucky, he had not.

I walked into the conference room packed with both relevant and interested parties, all eyes on me.  It was, to say the least, uncomfortable.  Whatever noise there was had subsided into silence.

There was one seat remaining.  Mine.

…

© Charles Heath 2021-2022

NANOWRIMO – April 2024 – “The One That Got Away” – Day 6

The General

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We are now going to look at the individuals who are national heroes, looking to do some good in the twilight of their lives.

They have a name, they have a reputation, and it’s a recognisable commodity.

Selling range rovers or enticing young adults to join the armed services isn’t quite the post-service career move he was looking for.

The trouble is, he never got the opportunity to get rich like some of his contemporaries, and what there was went on a gambling addiction that just about took everything when he retired.

But the question is, is the General the person he portrays himself as?

Truth is, he needs to find a very well-paying gig.

And just lurking in the background, fuelling the rising trust issues between father and daughter, why is Agatha’s father promoting this particular celebrity?

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What I learned about writing – History is what you make of it

What happened yesterday is history, but that’s not necessarily how we view what is history and what isn’t.

Similarly what is and what isn’t history is usually decided on by academics, because history texts that are used in schools are not written by ‘the man in the street’ authors. They’re usually university types who specialise in a particular field, or specialise section of history.

Even then one doubts that what is written is not a consensus of a panel.

So, when we talk about re-writing history, that takes a very brave bunch of people who want to buck the norm.

Our history, that which was taught when I went to school,. about our own country, Australia, started in 1770. Some brave soul tried to say it began earlier than that, before Captain Cook and the British arrived, out up a flag pole, and declared it belonged to Britain, like in 1606 when the Dutch explorer Willem Janszoon landed on the Cape York peninsula, only it wasn’t called that then.

And he might have been as surprised as Captain Cook that there were people here to observe their arrival. Yes, people had been living in this country for tens of thousands of years before the Europeans arrived.

But that was not what we were taught. No, Captain Cook, 1770, the a fleet of ships in 1788, and off we run as a new country, and a dumping ground for Britain’s convicts. Our history starts there, and then meanders through time, dividing the country up into states, having famous explorers like Burke and Wills, and Blaxland, Wentworth, and Lawson, Hume and Hovell.

And we commemorate all these people and those who were in charge over the years, with names of states, cities, rivers, mountains, everything under the sun. You’ve only got to glance at the list of hundreds of these forefathers and explorers to see just how many places in this country were named after them.

No heed was taken of what they may have been called before because no one really understood the languages of the first people who lived here. And they never seem to rate as a matter of study for us children back then.

Now, as people have begun to realise our history goes way, way back, and that there should be a nod to those inhabitants, they are considering re-writing some of our history to incorporate these people. And change the names of places to their original. A famous instance of recent renaming is of Ayers Rock, now called Uluru.

Even then, Australian History didn’t rate very highly, and I have to say, as a child at school 50 odd years ago, I learned more about the British Empire/Commonwealth, and about the English kings and queens, than we did about our own Governor Generals, Prime Ministers and State Premiers.

Could I tell you the name of our first Prime Minister? No. I can say when Australia became Australia, yes. 1901. Can I tell you the first King of England? Yes, William the Conqueror in 1066. There were kings before that but they only ruled of parts of England.

But over the years since I have read the odd book of Australian History but for some reason it never quite seems as colourful or as interesting as that of England or Scotland, or even some of the European countries.

Now, since I’ve been reading about what’s happening in the United States I have begin to take an interest in American history, and it, too, seems to suffer the same problems we have with ours, a bunch of academics decided what it was, and what it would not include, and then there is this thing called the 1619 project.

Wow, that seems to have stirred up a hornet’s nest.

Can’t wait to see what happens next.

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 294

Day 294 – Observation

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The Art of Extreme Observation: What Georges Perec’s 60-Page Parisian Stakeout Can Teach Every Writer

Imagine sitting at a cafe table in the heart of Paris for three consecutive days. You aren’t writing a sweeping historical fiction novel, inventing dramatic plot twists, or even checking your phone. Instead, you are simply acting as a human security camera—writing down the make of every passing car, the colour of a pigeon’s feathers, the exact time a woman in a green coat walks by, and the hum of conversation drifting from the bar.

This isn’t a mindfulness exercise; it was a radical literary experiment.

Over a full October weekend in 1974, French avant-garde writer and filmmaker Georges Perec posted up in Paris’s Place Saint-Sulpice. Armed with notebooks, he attempted to exhaust his subject completely. The result? An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris, a fascinating 60-page essay that redefines how we look at the world around us.

So, is this something every writer should do? And more importantly, why should you waste an entire weekend staring at ordinary life when you could be drafting your next masterpiece?

Let’s dive into the radical genius of Perec’s experiment and explore why hyper-observation is the secret weapon every writer needs.

What Did Georges Perec Actually Do?

Georges Perec was a member of Oulipo (Ouvroir de littérature potentielle), a loose gathering of French-speaking writers and mathematicians who enjoyed creating works using constrained writing techniques.

For his Place Saint-Sulpice experiment, Perec’s constraint was simple: record the infratrivial—the ordinary, the trivial, the background noise that people usually ignore.

Over Thursday, October 18, Friday, October 19, and Saturday, October 20, 1974, Perec sat at various cafes (Café de la Mairie, Tabac Saint-Sulpice) and noted:

  • The weather shifting.
  • Buses arriving and departing (Route 86, Route 63).
  • Dogs being walked.
  • The changing shadows of the Saint-Sulpice church.
  • Fragments of overheard dialogue.

He wasn’t looking for a murder mystery to unfold. He wasn’t waiting for a celebrity sighting. He was deliberately focusing on what happens when nothing special happens.

As Perec wrote in the introduction:

“What happens every day and recurs every day: the banal, the quotidian, the obvious, the common, the ordinary, the infra-ordinary, the background noise, the habitual? How to account for it, how to question it, how to describe it?”

Is This Something Every Writer Should Do?

Let’s be honest: you probably shouldn’t spend 60 pages detailing the license plates of cars in your local strip mall today. Most writers are already strapped for time, balancing day jobs, families, and actual writing deadlines.

However, every writer should adopt the mindset of Perec’s experiment.

Whether you write literary fiction, sci-fi world-building, high-octane thrillers, or creative nonfiction, doing a localised “exhaustion” exercise completely transforms your relationship with reality and your craft. Here is why you need to try it at least once.

1. It Cures “Writer’s Blindness”

Writers are professional daydreamers. We live inside our heads, plotting, planning, and worrying about character arcs. Because of this, we suffer from what psychologists call inattentional blindness—we stop seeing the actual physical world around us.

When you force yourself to sit still and record mundane details for an hour (let alone a whole weekend), the world snaps back into high definition. You notice how sunlight hits a cracked pavement, the precise way an elderly man adjusts his scarf, or the nervous tic of a barista dropping a ceramic cup. These are the sensory details that turn flat, generic writing into immersive, breathing fiction.

2. It Teaches You the Power of Constraint

In a world of infinite possibilities (blank Google Docs, endless plot directions), writers often freeze. Perec’s experiment proves that limitations breed creativity.

By restricting yourself to a single street corner, park bench, or coffee shop for a defined period, you remove the paralysis of choice. You stop worrying about what to write and focus entirely on how to capture what is right in front of you.

3. It Deepens Your Understanding of Pacing and Rhythm

Read An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris, and you’ll notice the text has a rhythmic, hypnotic quality. It mimics the natural ebb and flow of daily life—slow lulls in the afternoon, rushes of commuter traffic, quiet evenings.

By practising extreme observation, you learn the natural cadences of the real world. When you translate this into storytelling, your narrative pacing improves. You learn when to speed up a scene (like morning rush hour) and when to let the atmosphere linger (like a quiet Sunday afternoon).

4. It Retrains Your Brain to Value the “Infratrivial”

The best stories aren’t always about explosions, dramatic breakups, or epic fantasy quests. Often, the most resonant moments in literature happen in the spaces in between: a conversation over lukewarm soup, the silence in a car after an argument, the way someone stirs their coffee.

Perec teaches us to pay attention to the background noise. As writers, our job is to make readers care about the ordinary. If you can make a 60-page essay about a mundane Parisian square engaging, you can make any scene in your novel compelling.

How to Do Your Own “Perec Weekend” (Or Afternoon)

You don’t need to fly to Paris to channel Georges Perec. You can run your own micro-version of this experiment this very weekend. Here is how:

  1. Pick a Mundane Location: Choose somewhere unremarkable—a local diner, a subway platform, a hotel lobby, or a bench in a suburban park. Avoid hyper-stimulating tourist hotspots.
  2. Bring a Notebook (Not a Phone): Put your phone on Do Not Disturb. Use a physical notebook and pen. Digital devices invite distraction; paper demands presence.
  3. Commit to a Timeframe: Start small. Give yourself one uninterrupted hour. If you’re feeling ambitious, try three hours.
  4. Record Without Filtering: Write down everything. Do not judge whether it’s “interesting” enough. Write the mundane details: “12:15 PM. A pigeon with a missing toe lands near a discarded crisp packet. A woman in a yellow jacket walks past, looking at her watch. The hum of an idling delivery van.”
  5. Review and Mine: Later, read back through your notes. Highlight the phrases, sensory triggers, and micro-moments that jump out at you. Drop these observations into your current work-in-progress to anchor your characters in a vivid, tangible reality.

Final Thoughts

Georges Perec didn’t write An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris to give us a plot blueprint; he wrote it to wake us up.

As writers, we are chroniclers of the human experience. But we cannot write about humanity if we aren’t willing to watch it—truly watch it—in its most unpolished, unscripted, and ordinary moments.

So, pack a notebook, find a bench, and start noticing. You might just surprise yourself with what you find when you stop looking for a story and let the world come to you.

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Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Zagreb

Beyond Ban Jelačić: 5 Hidden Gems That Define the Real Zagreb

Zagreb. The name conjures images of the iconic red roofs of the Upper Town, the vibrant café culture of the Lower Town, and the mandatory selfies by the Funicular. It’s a beautifully manageable European capital, often praised for its charm and easy walkability.

But for the seasoned traveller—the one who seeks the unvarnished truth of a city—the real magic often lies where the tourist map runs thin.

If you’ve already checked off the Museum of Broken Relationships and sipped your coffee on Cvjetni Trg, it’s time to venture deeper. We’ve compiled the five essential experiences that will take you off the beaten path and into the authentic heart of Zagreb.

1. Descend into History: The Grič Tunnel

While many tourists stick to the surface, locals know that a fascinating, slightly eerie piece of history lies just beneath the cobblestones of the Upper Town.

The Grič Tunnel is a 350-meter-long passage originally constructed during World War II as an air-raid shelter. For decades, it was mostly forgotten, dark, and damp. Today, it has been beautifully renovated and repurposed as a public walkway, linking Radićeva Street (near the main square) to the other side of Grič Hill (near Mesnička Street).

It’s often used for fashion shows, art installations, and even the spectacular Advent in Zagreb Christmas market features sections here. But even on a quiet Tuesday afternoon, walking through its vast, vaulted halls offers a cool, dramatic escape and a poignant reminder of Zagreb’s turbulent past.

  • Why it’s RLT (Road Less Travelled): Many tourists assume it’s a construction site or just a side alley, missing the entrance entirely.
  • Insider Tip: While there are several entrances, try the one on Radićeva Street for the full dramatic walk-through experience.

2. A Silent Architectural Masterpiece: Mirogoj Cemetery

Admittedly, the word “cemetery” might not immediately sound like a key tourist destination, but Mirogoj is unlike any other burial ground. Designed in 1876 by the famed architect Hermann Bollé, Mirogoj is less a cemetery and more an open-air art gallery and park.

What defines the space are the massive, sweeping neo-Renaissance arcades clad in green ivy, housing the tombs of Croatia’s most influential figures, from writers and artists to politicians. The central dome and the rows of elegant statues create an atmosphere of serene, melancholy beauty.

This is a space that speaks volumes about Croatian history, artistry, and respect for the departed. It’s quiet, reflective, and stunningly photogenic—a short bus ride from the city centre, but a world away from the city noise.

  • Why it’s RLT (Road Less Travelled): It requires a slight detour (Bus 106 from Kaptol), discouraging day-trippers focused solely on the centre.
  • Best Time to Visit: Early morning or late afternoon, when the sun casts dramatic shadows across the ivy-covered arcades.

3. The Unassuming Heart of Local Life: Trešnjevka Market

To truly feel the pulse of local Zagreb life, you need to leave the polished centre and head west to the bustling district of Trešnjevka. While Dolac Market is mandatory viewing, Trešnjevački plac (Trešnjevka Market) is where real Zagreb families shop.

This market is large, chaotic, affordable, and incredibly authentic. You won’t just find your typical kumice (market grandmothers) selling produce; you’ll find everything from hardware stalls and used clothing to cheap, traditional dining halls (gableci) serving hearty lunch deals.

Wander the indoor stalls filled with vintage clothing and household trinkets, or browse the outdoor stands overflowing with local cheeses, fresh meats, and flowers. This is the perfect place to grab a ridiculously inexpensive lunch and observe the daily rhythm of the city’s working class.

  • Why it’s RLT (Road Less Travelled): Located outside the traditional tourist triangle, it requires using the tram system (Trams 3, 9, 12).
  • What to Try: Look for a gablec (daily lunch) sign—usually a simple, filling meal like goulash or stuffed peppers for under €7.

4. Find the Inventors’ Spirit: The Technical Museum Nikola Tesla

While art and history museums abound in Zagreb, the Technical Museum often gets overlooked in favor of flashier attractions. This is a mistake, especially for those interested in science, industry, and the incredible contributions of Croatian minds.

Named after the world-famous inventor Nikola Tesla, this museum is a fantastic throwback, filled with retro industrial machinery, firefighting equipment, and displays dedicated to engineering breakthroughs. Highlights include a full-scale coal mine model (which you can walk through!), vintage trams, and a dedicated room honouring Tesla himself.

It’s hands-on, slightly dusty in a charming way, and a beautiful testament to Croatia’s industrial history and inventive spirit.

  • Why it’s RLT (Road Less Travelled): It isn’t located directly in the central museum quadrant, requiring a short tram ride south of the main train station.
  • Must-See: Check the schedule for the planetarium shows. They are highly rated and offer an excellent break from walking.

5. Escape to the Peak: Medvednica Nature Park

If you feel the need for fresh mountain air and stunning city views that rival those from Lotrščak Tower, hop on a bus or drive toward the northern edge of the city and ascend the Medvednica mountain range.

Medvednica, with its highest peak, Sljeme, is Zagreb’s essential backyard playground. It offers miles of hiking/biking trails, the historic Medvedgrad (a medieval fortified town), and, most importantly, numerous traditional mountain huts (planinarski domovi) serving classic, hearty Croatian mountain food.

Spend a day hiking to one of the lookouts, explore the Veternica cave, or just drive up for lunch at the top. The views are spectacular, and the atmosphere is entirely different from the busy city below.

  • Why it’s RLT (Road Less Travelled): Requires dedicated travel time and is not a quick walk-by attraction.
  • What to Try: Order štrukli (baked cheese pastry) at a mountain hut after a long walk—it’s the ultimate Croatian comfort food, and it tastes better high up in the woods.

The Reward of the Detour

Zagreb is a city built on layers of history, culture, and architecture. While the central squares offer undeniable beauty, the true reward comes when you step off the main path.

These five spots provide a window into the life that sustains the city, whether that’s the silent dignity of a historic park, the daily bustle of a working market, or the rugged landscape that surrounds it.

So, put away the polished guidebook, grab a tram, and go discover the real, complex, and captivating Zagreb.