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Tag: Blog
Writing about writing a book – Day 20
It is a day of rest although writers are ready and able to work on any given day at any hour of the day or night when an idea or thought comes to them.
I’m trying not to think, but that’s not working.
I’ve been going over the reasons for writing the first draft of the book 30 odd years ago and it had something to do with the fact I was working with personal computers and local area networking when both were in their infancy, and I wanted to blend this knowledge into a story.
Of course, I’d always wanted to write thrillers, and this presented the opportunity to use computers as a basis for a worldwide conspiracy. How easy it is these days to do just that, but back in those days, it was a lot of hard work.
I remember sitting in a meeting when the company I was working for at the time had just implemented a network and personal computer to replace the mainframe and dumb terminals, also looking to leverage the new technologies of spreadsheets and word-processing, effectively making accounts staff more productive, and removing typists and moving into the world of centralized word processing. It was not a new idea with Wangwriter, but using PC’s was.
One of the departmental managers got up to give his take on the new technology, this about six months after implementation, and after a lot of teething troubles caused mainly by people who were vehemently resisting change, and his message was, it should not be called ‘networking’, but ‘not working’, in reference to the number of times the network went down.
But this is a digression. Computers are only a part of the story.
The story also goes back to a time when there was a clear demarcation between the management levels. Management offices were oasis’s whereas the staff worked in a stark desert-like environment. When one came to work for such an organization, it was with the belief that you start at the bottom, and over time, you work your way up the ladder. There was, very definitely, class distinction, and the various management levels never mixed, at work or socially, except within their own level.
There were Managers, Assistant Managers, and Manager’s Assistants, a typing pool, a secretary, that young, or old, lady who did so many jobs for their boss, that these days it would be considered demeaning. They were dedicated to their jobs and irreplaceable. There was no such person as a Personal Assistant.
Nor was such a thing as sexual harassment. One company I worked in where one of the Assistant Managers was sexually abusing an office girl, her complaints didn’t get a prosecution as it would now, it just had him transferred to another branch. Reprehensible, yes, and thankfully no longer a problem, except of course, in Fifty Shades of Grey which apparently condones such behavior.
There were department heads, General Managers, and Board Members. The upper management level and participants were in a world of their own, one few could ever aspire to. This is the world in which Transworld, my fictitious (but based on a very real) company lives.
I have to work on my company structure to make sure it is right.
Now I have two charts. A timeline, for both Bill, and the story, and a hierarchy for the office management and staff.
This is beginning to be more complicated than I thought.
© Charles Heath 2016-2020
“The Devil You Don’t”, be careful what you wish for
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John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.
Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.
If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.
At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.
That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follows.
Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.
Searching for locations: Toronto, Canada
The touristy things
On the way to the Hall of Fame, we found an ice skating rink
The Hockey hall of fame
The hockey hall of fame is a very large exhibition which would take a whole day to see everything. We sat through a very informative history of the game and the origins of the NHL, which for people who do not have hockey as a sport in their country, is saying something.
We follow the Maple Leafs, coincidentally Toronto’s franchise in the NHL, and we have been here before for a game, which they lost. It didn’t matter, I was staggered by the energy and enthusiasm both the players and the fans put into making it a memorable experience.
I’m hoping for a repeat experience.
St Lawrence Market
We walked 1.8 km to the market and it was closed which is about right for us as we have a knack for turning up and the place is closed, for instance, the Canadian club distillery in Windsor, Canada.
Perhaps tomorrow, before or after the game.
Red Lobster
Ok, we’ve been here before and it was beyond any expectations anyone could have for a restaurant chain.
This was no different from the last.
What more could you want, scallops, shrimp, and a fried lobster tail all drowned in a superb garlic butter sauce.
Add a side of mash potatoes, and a 20oz glass of beer, and there is the definition of heaven on a plate.
St Lawrence Market, again
Snowing, but not heavily
St Lawrence market, everything is very expensive, crab legs $120 per kg, lobster, $50 to $80 per kg. Oddly everything is quoted per pound, and it’s a good thing that we can convert lbs to kg.
It is, to say the least, a disappointment.
Ice Hockey at the Scotiabank Arena
There was a definite buzz in the air, and heading towards the stadium was both us, and many other Toronto supporters. Blue Maple Leaf jerseys were in abundance.
We’ve been before, and the last time the Leafs lost.
What else is new?
They have had a very good season so far, and are second on the ladder overall, so it was not without the expectation that they might win this one.
Never have an expectation.
They lost.
But…
It was an incredible game that was none stop action. It seems to me that you require a lot of skill and skating talent to play this game. I certainly couldn’t, and freely admit that I’d probably last about five minutes.
The score didn’t reflect the play, but in the end, the Leafs lost 4 – 3, at the end of the three periods.
Souvenir hunting and other stuff
I woke tired and exhausted, not looking forward to walking around Toronto.
Got up early to do the walking.
Oh, did I tell you, this hotel has a laundry and it is the bugbear of staying in major hotels, not being able to wash clothes?
Breakfast is included, but it is the main meal of the day so we feast. The selection is incredible.
We had to go back to the Maple Leafs franchise shop to exchange a Maple Leafs Jersey, which was no trouble.
So near to the CN tower, we go in to shop for souvenirs, of which there were plenty. I liked the stuffed mooses and beavers.
We’ve been up the tower so it’s back to the Union Station and a short stay at upstairs, a little bar overlooking the Toronto Pearson train line.
Time for tasting some Canadian ales, the first a Mill Street tank house ale, the second a Mill Street hopped and confused. Seriously, that’s what they were called.
The drinking mood music was old hits like Queen and a little bit of country and western.
good view of the trains, too.
Union Station
Like all main stations very large very tall ceilings and openings that lead to the tracks of which there are about 24, and an underground system
Much the same as all large railway terminals and probably far busier in times gone by.
Dining, but not necessarily dinner
Not far from the station, and opposite to clock tower belonging to the old city hall was a restaurant called Bannock.
There I had a Moosehead Cracked Canoe lager, a light ale, and a house special since 1929, a chicken pot pie, and it was very good.
In a word: Stick
Everyone knows what a stick is, it’s a lump of wood that you throw out in front of you, and if your dog is inclined to, he will run out and fetch it back.
Of course, there’s the obstinate ones who just lie down on the ground and look at you like you’re foolishly throwing away something useful.
For instance, that stick, and a few others that would be very useful to light a campfire, or just a woodfire in the house, during winter.
Or it can be a stick of wood needed for something else, like a building project, of of those highly secret affairs that go on in the locked shed at the bottom of the garden.
I’m sure the dog who refuses to fetch sticks knows exactly what is going on there, but is disinclined to say.
But..
If you are looking at the gooey sense of the word, there is an old saying, if you throw enough mud, some of it sticks’.
Yes, you can stick stuff to stuff, such as words cut out of various newspapers to make up a ransom, or warning, note.
Too many mystery movies, I know.
Paint will stick to timber, or any surface really.
Mud sticks to the bottom of shoes or boots and then becomes analysable evidence.
I can stick to you like glue, which means, really, where you go I go, quite handy if you are trying to stop an opposition player from scoring in a game.
I can use a walking stick, beat someone with a stick, use a stick to fly a plane, or a gear stick to move a car.
I’m sure, if you think about it, you can come up with a dozen more ways to use it.
Inspiration, maybe
A picture paints … well, as many words as you like. For instance:
And the story:
It was once said that a desperate man has everything to lose.
The man I was chasing was desperate, but I, on the other hand, was more desperate to catch him.
He’d left a trail of dead people from one end of the island to the other.
The team had put in a lot of effort to locate him, and now his capture was imminent. We were following the car he was in, from a discrete distance, and, at the appropriate time, we would catch up, pull him over, and make the arrest.
There was nowhere for him to go.
The road led to a dead-end, and the only way off the mountain was back down the road were now on. Which was why I was somewhat surprised when we discovered where he was.
Where was he going?
“Damn,” I heard Alan mutter. He was driving, being careful not to get too close, but not far enough away to lose sight of him.
“What?”
“I think he’s made us.”
“How?”
“Dumb bad luck, I’m guessing. Or he expected we’d follow him up the mountain. He’s just sped up.”
“How far away?”
“A half-mile. We should see him higher up when we turn the next corner.”
It took an eternity to get there, and when we did, Alan was right, only he was further on than we thought.”
“Step on it. Let’s catch him up before he gets to the top.”
Easy to say, not so easy to do. The road was treacherous, and in places just gravel, and there were no guard rails to stop a three thousand footfall down the mountainside.
Good thing then I had the foresight to have three agents on the hill for just such a scenario.
Ten minutes later, we were in sight of the car, still moving quickly, but we were going slightly faster. We’d catch up just short of the summit car park.
Or so we thought.
Coming quickly around another corner we almost slammed into the car we’d been chasing.
“What the hell…” Aland muttered.
I was out of the car, and over to see if he was in it, but I knew that it was only a slender possibility. The car was empty, and no indication where he went.
Certainly not up the road. It was relatively straightforward for the next mile, at which we would have reached the summit. Up the mountainside from here, or down.
I looked up. Nothing.
Alan yelled out, “He’s not going down, not that I can see, but if he did, there’s hardly a foothold and that’s a long fall.”
Then where did he go?
Then a man looking very much like our quarry came out from behind a rock embedded just a short distance up the hill.
“Sorry,” he said quite calmly. “Had to go if you know what I mean.”
I’d lost him.
It was as simple as that.
I had been led a merry chase up the hill, and all the time he was getting away in a different direction.
I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, letting my desperation blind me to the disguise that anyone else would see through in an instant.
It was a lonely sight, looking down that road, knowing that I had to go all that way down again, only this time, without having to throw caution to the wind.
“Maybe next time,” Alan said.
“We’ll get him. It’s just a matter of time.”
© Charles Heath 2019
Find this and other stories in “Inspiration, maybe” available soon.
It’s not a writing room unless…
You have this incredible fully working to scale model of an Airbus A380 coming into land…
This plane is over a meter long and has actually flown as a model aircraft, complete with remote control.
The thrust from the four engines was enough to almost blow the lounge room curtains off their hooks from 40 feet away … and it was a struggle to hold the plane down.
Now I can simulate tornados.
And, I have to say it’s rather awe-inspiring to look at it.
For those who like the technical details:
The A380 is the largest EPO model you will ever see and with a wingspan of 1520mm and 4 x 56mm ducted fans it is sure to make an impression at any airfield!
Despite it’s size, the A380 is very light and economical to fly, only requiring a 3000mAh 3S battery.
This huge A380 (EPO) model aircraft comes 95% pre-built and includes a powerful 4 x 25A brushless EDF system and steerable nose wheel, just include your own Tx/Rx and battery.
Specs:
Length: 1410mm (55.51in)
Wing span: 1520mm (59.84in)
Flying weight: 1800g
Motor: 2826 Brushless outrunner (3200KV)
ESC: 4 x 25A
Servo: 9g * 5pcs
Battery: 3000~5000mAh 3S1P 45C~65C Lipoly Pack (Required)
EDF Diameter: 4 x 56mm
Past conversations with my cat – 42
This is Chester. Somedays, like today, he is an accomplice.
In what, you may ask.
I got a DM (a direct mail in Twitter) from someone who wants to ask a few questions and write a little piece about me in their blog.
Why? Chester asks. He’s been sitting beside me staring at the same screen I have, and it finally got the better of him.
They asked I replied.
But what about the last person who tried to get simple answers to simple questions?
I was in a frivolous mood, I tell him.
That’s most days, isn’t it? Unless, of course, you’ve dozed off after a long night trying to get words on theoretical paper.
OK, so he’s trying to annoy me. It’s working.
The first question, tell us a little about yourself.
So, what do I say? Suave and sophisticated.
A sidelong look from an obviously amused cat. I can tell by the expression on his face.
And then the words, don’t use words of more than two syllables, and worse, use words you don’t know the meaning of.
That’s why I have a thesaurus and dictionary on the computer.
He lets that pass.
So I have been around long enough to have many experiences, go to many places, see many people, and do stuff.
Do stuff? What the hell is ‘stuff’?
You know, stuff. Looking at stuff, eating stuff, sitting on stuff.
Groan.
He gets up, gives me that pitiful look of disdain, and leaves.
I shrug. Maybe tomorrow, when he’s in a better mood.
“Echoes From The Past”, buried, but not deep enough
On special, now only $0.99 for the next few weeks.
What happens when your past finally catches up with you?
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 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 is going to be terrible consequences no matter what choice he makes.
Short story writing. Don’t try this at home! (2)
This is not meant to be a treatise on short story writing. Far be it for me to advise anyone on the subject. I prefer to say how it is that I do it so you can learn all of the pitfalls in one go.
I like to think I fly by the seat of my pants, you know, like the reader who takes up the story and starts reading, not having a clue where it’s going to go.
I prefer that blissful ignorance, of course, until I have to start editing it into something that resembles a logical story,
It was a revelation when I discovered there are two types (possibly more) or writer, pantsers and planners.
I’ve tried both. Both work. But in the case of the latter, you need to know where it’s going to start what’s going to happen in the middle and have the end firmly planted in your mind. Not much good if a rotten character is pissing you off and you want to kill him, excruciatingly.
Flying blind gives you a little more creativeness, and be able to go around a corner and see what’s there. it also allows for those complete changes of direction you come up with in the shower, that place that is a fertile ground for new ideas just when you’re running out of them.
But, it can sometimes play havoc with word counts and if you’re trying to fit into 2,000 words, 5,000 words, or a lot less, taking the story where it wants to go is not a good idea, and sadly, I tend to let stories run their course.
And sometimes I like the idea of writing three different endings, and then can’t choose which one I like the best.
So, role model I am not. I like writing, and when I’m in the ‘zone’ it’s like I’m in another world.
But, then, isn’t that the case for all of us?
More unclarity tomorrow!
