Figures of speech

I found this explanation on the internet: ‘a word or phrase used in a non-literal sense for rhetorical or vivid effect.’

We as writers should not use these in our writing because most people might not understand their use.  I think it sometimes adds a degree of whimsy to the story.

I remember some years ago when I working with a Russian chap who’d not been in the country very long, and though he had a reasonable use of English, was not quite up with our figures of speech.

And made me realize when he kept asking me what they meant, just how many I used in everyday use.

Most of these figures of speech use descriptions that do not necessarily match the word being described, such as ‘I dance like I have two left feet’.

And that pretty much sums up how good I can dance.  But …

‘Like a bat out of hell’, not sure how this got into the vernacular

‘Like a bull in a china shop’, describes a toddler let loose

‘More front than Myers’, as my mother used to say, but in context, Myers is the Australian version of the English Selfridges or Harrods or Paris Galleries Lafayette.  It refers to the width of street frontage of the stores

‘As mad as a hatter’, though not necessarily of the millinery kind, but, well, you can guess

‘As nutty as a fruitcake’, provided your fruitcake has nuts in it

You can see, if you get the references, they are somewhat apt, and, yes, they sometimes creep into my stories.

 

Being inspired, maybe

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

2013-06-29 14.51.16

“I saw him go this way,” Joe said, his face flushed from the effort chasing his quarry.

It was like playing a game of hide and seek, but the stakes were a lot higher.  When we found whom we were seeking, matters could end very badly.

“Towards the Orangery, or behind the trees,” I asked, having come from the opposite direction, but not seeing him.

“He went behind the trees, and then towards the building.”

“Right.  You go to the Orangery down the path and I’ll take the trees.”

“But…”

“Go.  We’re wasting time, and he’s getting away.”

Fortunately, there were few people around at this time, but it could have been worse if this was happening an hour later.

I tentatively headed towards the first tree and edged around it, trying not to look like someone edging around a tree expecting to be attacked…

…by a squirrel.

Two or three of them.  No sign of the man we were chasing.  Perhaps he was in disguise.

What’s said cannot be unsaid

You know the moment the words leave your mouth that you have said the wrong thing.

It might be exactly what you were thinking, it might be said before you had time to process what you were going to say, but it’s the look on the face of the recipient that tells the story.

Oh, my God, I shouldn’t have said that!

Your initial reaction is to try and say it’s not what you meant.

Generally, these horrible mistakes come at a point where emotions are running high, and there is an element of truth in the statement, and one that the recipient is aware of, and doesn’t need reminding of.

Not by their best friend, partner or closest relative.

Would it be better if you were not one of those three?

Maybe.

But it isn’t.  Anger, followed by tears, followed by silence.

This is where the statement, time heals all wounds, is brought into play, and you hope that it is true.

Interesting subject, is it not, for the opening gambit of a story?

 

Popularity, or the lack of it

I’ve been sitting around looking at several blank pieces of paper, thinking about how to become more popular or make a significant splash in the popularity stakes without having to sell my soul.

Amazingly I’m having a simultaneous conversation with my grandchildren about trending videos on YouTube, and it seems author interviews aren’t going to cut it.

When my eldest granddaughter listed the type of videos that are trending, I thought what hope has the rest of the world have.

But…

Who knows what the next trend in Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, or YouTube might be.  I might just sit down and write a script of the interview that will, at that moment in time, be just what a million people want to see.

I’m sure I’m crazy enough to fit in because I’m not your average author.  I write more than one book at a time, in fact about five, I get my characters confused, and it takes about three re-writes to track down the idiosyncrasies, and worse, all the main characters are weird versions of me, so I play out as many different lives as I like.

Imagine what that would be like in an interview.

It’s been done before, I know, but so have a lot of other things, and people rarely get tired of good old-fashioned fun.

 

Being inspired, maybe

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

2013-03-10 15.27.44

“He said we were to meet at the bottom car park, and that’s it, right there in front of you, the bottom car park.  And no Davo.  As usual.”

Fred didn’t like Davo.  He didn’t trust him and it was not without good reason.  He’d let us down more than once.

“He’ll be here this time,” I said, in my most soothing tone.

Fred was on the edge of a breakdown.

“What were his exact instructions?”  Maybe there had been a miscommunication.

“He said lower carpark, Turoa.”

And there was the problem.  We were standing all alone at Whakapapa.

 

Being inspired, maybe

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

walterpeakfarm

I was sitting back taking in the last of the afternoon sun, despite the fact it was only 15 degrees.  It was debatable whether it was a haze or low clouds that were beginning to obscure the mountains, and would no doubt obscure the building on the other side of the lake, where our target was hiding out.

Joe, lying flat on the rock next to me was watching him through high powered binoculars.

Thinking he was in an invulnerable position, our target had made the mistake of coming out into the open, not realizing that it was possible to see him from where we were.

I’d thought that too until Joe informed me otherwise.  And had the photographic proof to go with it.

Now, all we had to do was get there without him knowing we were coming.  Logistical was still working on it, a para drop, overland, or through the mountains.

I didn’t like any of the options, but my suggestion of going in by submarine had fallen, unsurprisingly, on deaf ears.

As for now, all we could do was wait.

 

 

The Devil You Don’t

The introduction of Zoe the assassin.

http://amzn.to/2o7ZtxZ

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 favor 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’.

newdevilcvr3

Being inspired, maybe

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

lookingdownfromcoronetpeak

I 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 desire for revenge render me blind 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 not.  The car’s gearbox was going to wear the worst of my temper.

 

 

 

 

“One Last Look”, a thriller

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 favorite 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

A strange hour of the night

It’s 1:20 am on this side of the world.

It’s a time where most people are in bed asleep, but it’s the curse of being a writer that I’m sitting here, cursing the keyboard, and wondering where the next word, sentence, paragraph, page, chapter is coming from.

Left field?

Maybe it will come down in the next shower of rain, which, by the way, is part of a cell where we have light rain turning into heavy rain turning into torrential rain, then becoming drizzle like before there is no more rain.

Then, repeat.

It’s distracting, it’s peaceful, it is loud, I can hearing pouring down the path beside the house like a babbling brook.

OK, you get it, the rain is distracting.

This time of night is usually productive, a sudden thought that came to me in the shower is now being fleshed out as the next major scene in the book.

Someone is being shot, run over, tortured for information, or laughing in the face of the hero, or heroine, just before he or she learns a lesson in not aggravating the hero or heroine, as the case may be.

Maybe the rain will help, someone is standing outside, in the rain, getting very wet, running surveillance. Maybe they are in a car, and the rain is so deafening they can’t hear themselves think, or their boss on the phone telling them to go home.

Maybe I should just go to bed, and start again tomorrow, oops, in the morning!