Tag: Books

NANOWRIMO Day One

nanowrimo-blog-banner-2019-journal

I took a deep breath and could feel the tug pulling hard on the tow line, as the ship eased away from the dock.

In other words, we’re underway!

It’s going to run like this, read the outline that refers to the section or chapter I’m about to write, let it mull in my mind and then, after several hours, sit down and write.

The start is always the hardest because you have to keep in mind that it will serve as an introduction, with some explanation, about the character, and a situation, and still hold interest.  It’s a fine balancing act and I’m not sure if I have got it exactly right.

As for the next chapter, the story is improving, and perhaps, if I’m not happy later on, I will go back and fix it, if, of course,  it needs fixing.

Just the same, we have a long way to go.

In a word: Peer

It’s not exactly a good word these days, as it has a sinister connotation, much like the word gay, the meaning of which as we know today has nothing to do with what it meant in the past.

Peering at someone could be inferred as looking at someone in a manner that makes them feel uncomfortable.

But, in another sense,  to peer is to look at someone or something with difficulty or without concentration.

A peer can be someone of equal age or social standing as you.

Then there’s peer pressure which is the desire by younger people to be the same as others of the same age or social status.  And it could lead to underage smoking or drinking to fit it with others.

This is not to be confused with the word pier, which is one of the large or small structures that jut out into the sea, the more notable are at Brighton, and Blackpool.

Sometimes you can tie a boat up.

It can also be a tall structure that holds up part of a floor, or roof.

Conversations with my cat – 61

20160902_094127

This is Chester.  This is just before he jumped on the bed and started scratching at the cover.

In the first place, he’s not allowed on the bed.  Somehow he seems not to have got that memo.

In the second place, I don’t like being woken up with a rather shrill meow in my ear.

What, I ask, in a rather grumpy tone.

He sits on my stomach.  Maximum effect for a cat that’s heavier than it looks.

It’s national cat day.

Rubbish, I mutter.  I’d know if it was or wasn’t, it comes up on the computer.

It’s national cat day.  You have to do what I tell you.

As if that doesn’t happen every day.

I throw the cover over him and he disappears.  Get out of that, I say, and I’ll think about it.

In the meantime, I go down to the computer and have a look.  National cat day?  Not our national cat day, it’s in the United States of America.

I hear the jingling of his bird warning system coming down the passage, then a moment later he appears at the door to my office.

Got your wires crossed mate, I say.  It’s in America, not here.  Back to the boondocks for you matey.  I’m going back to bed.

I think I just noticed a cat can shake his head like a human.  Or maybe not, it’s too early in the morning to be bothered about it.

 

 

“The Things We Do For Love” – Coming soon

Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?

For Henry the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself.  It takes him to a small village by the sea, s place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.

Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.  

Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.

A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone.  To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.

But can love conquer all?

It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.

The cover, at the moment, looks like this:

lovecoverfinal1

It’s the end of another month

October, where did that go?

I think when I woke up this morning it was the end of September, so I think Rip Van Winkle and I have something in common.

I guess I’m still wondering where September went, and the month before that.

A lot has happened though.  No, I didn’t get enough time to sit down and read a book like I was hoping to.  The shelves and there are quest a few of them, are full and I have to now replace books when I buy a new one.

Either that or I have to move into a larger house.

Wrong.

I’m retired, so shouldn’t I be downsizing?  Or do I build an Airbus A380 aircraft hanger out the back of my small retirement bungalow for the library?

Stories are progressing, though I haven’t written as much as I would like for each of them.  Instead, I have been editing a new novel, and working on the plan for NANOWRIMO, the ups and downs of that have been chronicled in three posts already, and I’m sure as the month progresses, there will be more.

One day someone in a theme park will be able to create a new death-defying ride that will be called ‘NANOWRIMO will be the death of me, maybe’, with all the twists, turns, gradual ups, and terrifying downs, and that endless heart in mouth moment, followed by that intense feeling of sick stomach when something works or when something fails.

Maybe we should simply call the ride ‘A Writer’s Journey’!

As for everything else, it gets done when I can because I still need to get at least two hours sleep and four hours dreaming up the next scene for whatever story I set in my head as my head hits the pillow.

I’m sure there’s an easier way, so if you know what it is, please tell me.

It just passed midnight here and Halloween is over for another year.  It’s not such a big thing in Australia, we don’t go all out with the Jack o Lanterns, but the kids wander the streets in their costumes, some quite brilliant, looking for candy and we always have a good supply.

 

In a word: Pray

It’s usually associated with the church, and saying a prayer for someone or something, but it kind of covers a lot of different situations, like,

We’ll pray for rain, we’ll pray for Mary to recover, I’ll pray for forgiveness.

In other words, in all of these instances, we are looking for intervention by God.

There is another instance, not related to religion, in that in a general sense you can pray for good weather over the weekend because they’re going camping.

In fact it is basically to hope for something very much.

It is, in a sense, wishful thinking, because in reality, no-one can predict, let alone dictate, what the weather will be.

It is also a forceful way of saying something, like,

Where the hell have you been, pray tell?

There is another word that sounds quite similar, prey.

That describes a creature that is hunted by another for food.

It’s also someone who is easily deceived or harmed.

It could also be something that preys on your mind

NANOWRIMO eve

I’m ready, finally, to set sail.

It was touch and go with the preparations almost foundering on the rocky shoreline that represented the plot holes, and in the end, I put all of the plot lines on cards and blue tacked them to the wall in the order I expected they would play out, and it showed where the holes were.

It was an innovative idea, sadly not my own, but one I used many years ago when working as principal researcher for a company biography, a company that had been in business since the 1890s. Inthat instance, I collated the main points attached to dates, sorted the cards m into date order and it gave a very clear historical outline.

The same, I found worked for the plot, and in being able to attach a loose timeline across all of the plots and sub plots to see where, chapter wise, they were going to fit in. Or where something was missing.

I know there’s probably very good computer software that also does this, but I was getting distressed, and didn’t want to put it all into a program, and find it didn’t do the job quite as i might expect, and being so close to starting time I didn’t have the time to fiddle.

Call me a luddite, but what did we do before computers. Yes. Pencils and paper.

Or was that charcoal and papyrus?

Betwixt metaphorical houses

It’s like working in two offices, one uptown, and one downtown.

I have two blogs, this one, and another which is purely for writing, and generally, a lot of starts and not a lot of finishes.  I get ideas, and it’s a place to store them, and give a few people some amusement at my, sometimes, improbable situations and far-fetched stories.

Here I try to be more serious.

I have the ceiling, the cinema of my dreams.  Here anything is possible, like jumping from a helicopter about to explode, and survive, and get out of a sinking ship, like Houdini.  Of course, there is always one time when it doesn’t work, and Houdini knows that all too well.

Over there, I have a series which I started here, long ago, where I take a photograph and write a story inspired by it.  The interesting thing about that is I could probably use the same photograph over and over, and it would inspire a different tale.

I know, if I was running a writing class, everyone would see that photograph differently.

But what amazes me sometimes is the fact the story is not directly related to the theme.  It got me thinking about how we view our experiences, and what triggers memories.  I’ve discovered that it doesn’t necessarily happen by correlation, say, for instance, a memory of being in New York might be triggered by a visit to a cafe in Cloncurry.

I try to do one of these every day, but sometimes it’s hard work.  Writing itself can be some days, particularly when the words are lurking there, behind that invisible, impenetrable, rock wall.

OK, so I’m stuck in the middle of writing a piece over there, and I’ve come over here to whinge.

But, enough.  I’ll let you know what the cinema of my dreams is showing, later.

“One Last Look”, nothing is what it seems

A single event can have enormous consequences.

A single event driven by fate, after Ben told his wife Charlotte he would be late home one night, he left early, and by chance discovers his wife having dinner in their favourite restaurant with another man.

A single event where it could be said Ben was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Who was this man?  Why was she having dinner with him?

A simple truth to explain the single event was all Ben required.  Instead, Charlotte told him a lie.

A single event that forces Ben to question everything he thought he knew about his wife, and the people who are around her.

After a near-death experience and forced retirement into a world he is unfamiliar with, Ben finds himself once again drawn back into that life of lies, violence, and intrigue.

From London to a small village in Tuscany, little by little Ben discovers who the woman he married is, and the real reason why fate had brought them together.

http://amzn.to/2CqUBcz

onelastlookcoverfinal2

Conversations with my cat – 61

20160902_094127

This is Chester.  This is just before he jumped on the bed and started scratching at the cover.

In the first place, he’s not allowed on the bed.  Somehow he seems not to have got that memo.

In the second place, I don’t like being woken up with a rather shrill meow in my ear.

What, I ask, in a rather grumpy tone.

He sits on my stomach.  Maximum effect for a cat that’s heavier than it looks.

It’s national cat day.

Rubbish, I mutter.  I’d know if it was or wasn’t, it comes up on the computer.

It’s national cat day.  You have to do what I tell you.

As if that doesn’t happen every day.

I throw the cover over him and he disappears.  Get out of that, I say, and I’ll think about it.

In the meantime, I go down to the computer and have a look.  National cat day?  Not our national cat day, it’s in the United States of America.

I hear the jingling of his bird warning system coming down the passage, then a moment later he appears at the door to my office.

Got your wires crossed mate, I say.  It’s in America, not here.  Back to the boondocks for you matey.  I’m going back to bed.

I think I just noticed a cat can shake his head like a human.  Or maybe not, it’s too early in the morning to be bothered about it.