Tag: Books

“Trouble in Store” – Short stories my way: Setting the scene

I used to like writing short stories, somewhere between two and five thousand words, but, in the end, it was too much hard work.

No chance of getting into stride with a location description, no real chance of giving a background to a character, it was simply a case of diving straight in.

But …

I’ve been thinking about writing a short story, starting it with a short succinct sentence that will set the tone.

Something like:  “Jack was staring down the barrel of a gun”

What then?

Should he start analyzing what sort of gun it was, did it have a light trigger, was the person holding it shaking, a man or a woman, or a child?

Location, in a house, a disused factory, a shop, a petrol station, the side of the road.

So, where was Jack?

Something like:  “He had gone down to the corner shop to get a pack of cigarettes.”

For himself or someone else?  Is it day, is it night, or somewhere in between?

Something like:  “He had to hustle because he knew the shopkeeper, Alphonse, liked to close at 11:00 pm sharp, and came through the door, the sound of the bell ringing loudly and the door bashed into it.”

So, Jack’s state of mind, he is in a hurry, careless coming through the door, not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

How would you react when you saw a gun, pointed at Alphonse until the sound of the door warning bell attracted the gunman’s attention?

Is it a gunman?

Something like:  “It took a second, perhaps three, to sum up the situation.  Young girl, about 16 or 17, scared, looking sideways at a man on the ground, Alphonse, and then Jack.  A Luger, German, a relic of WW2, perhaps her father’s souvenir, now pointing at him.”

The punch line:  Cigarettes can kill in more ways than one.

The revelation:  The corner store also supplied the local drug addicts.

The revised start is now:

Jack was staring down the barrel of a gun.

He had gone down to the corner shop to get a pack of cigarettes.

He had to hustle because he knew the shopkeeper, Alphonse, liked to close at 11:00 pm sharp.  His momentum propelled him through the door, causing the customer warning bell to ring loudly as the door bashed into it, and before the sound had died away, he knew he was in trouble.

It took a second, perhaps three, to sum up the situation. 

Young girl, about 16 or 17, scared, looking sideways at a man on the ground, then Alphonse, and then Jack.  He recognized the gun, a Luger, German, relic of WW2, perhaps her father’s souvenir, now pointing at him then Alphonse, then back to him.

Jack to another second or two to consider if he could disarm her.  No, the distance was too great.  He put his hands out where she could see them.  No sudden movements, try to remain calm, his heart rate up to the point of cardiac arrest.

Pointing with the gun, she said, “Come in, close the door, and move towards the counter.”

Everything but her hand steady as a rock.  The only telltale sign of stress, the bead of perspiration on her brow.  It was 40 degrees Fahrenheit in the shop.

Jack shivered and then did as he was told.  She was in an unpredictable category.

“What’s wrong with your friend?”  Jack tried the friendly approach, as he took several slow steps sideways towards the counter.

The shopkeeper, Alphonse, seemed calmer than usual, or the exact opposite spoke instead, “I suspect he’s an addict, looking for a score.  At the end of his tether, my guess, and came to the wrong place.” 

Wrong time, wrong place, in more ways than one Jack thought, now realizing he had walked into a very dangerous situation.  She didn’t look like a user.  The boy on the ground, he did, and he looked like he was going through the beginnings of withdrawal.

 “Simmo said you sell shit.  You wanna live, ante up.”  She was glaring at Alphonse. 

The language was not her own, she had been to a better class of school, a good girl going through a bad boy phase.

Nest time, point of view.

…

© Charles Heath 2016-2021

Short Story Writing – Don’t try this at home! – Part 4

This is not a treatise, but a tongue in cheek, discussion on how to write short stories.   Suffice to say this is not the definitive way of doing it, just mine.  It works for me – it might not work for you.

…

You’ve got the place, now you want the who.

My main characters are quite often me.

Not the real me, because I’m boring.  No, those characters are what I would like to be, that imaginary superhuman that can do everything.

Until, of course, reality sets in, and the bullets start flying.  When that happens, we should be looking to run or at the very least get under cover, not walk into a hail of bullets, with a huge grin, staring down the enemy.

Hang on, that never happens except in superman comics.

What’s really needed here is a little vulnerability, a little humility and a lot of understanding, qualities at times I don’t have.

So, in order to create a more believable character, I start dragging traits from others I’ve met, or know, or really don’t want to know.  

In a writer’s environment, there are a plethora of people out there that you can draw on for inspiration.  I once spent and afternoon at a railway station just observing people.  Even now, I make observations, some of which are true, and others, wildly off course. 

I once tried to convince my other half that I could pick people’s traits, and we sat at a café outside a church in Venice.  I was lucky, I got more than 75% correct.

Other characters in my stories I have met along the way.

Like a piano player in a restaurant.  It was not so much the playing was bad, it was the way he managed to draw people into his orbit and keep them there.  The man has charisma, but sadly no talent for the instrument.

Like an aunt I met only twice in a lifetime, and who left a lasting impression.  Severe, angry looking, speaking a language I didn’t understand, even though it was English.  It was where I learned we came from England, and she was the closest thing I came to as an example of nineteenth-century prim and proper.  And, no, she didn’t have a sense of humour or time for silly little boys.

Like one of my bosses, a man of indeterminate age, but it had to be over 100, or so it seemed to my sixteen-year-old brain, who spoke and dressed impeccably, and yes, he did once say that I would be the death of him.

I can only hope I wasn’t.

Like a Captain of a ship I once met, a man who didn’t seem to have time for the minions, and a man who reeked authority and respect.  I’ve always wanted to be like him, but unfortunately, it was not in the genes.

Those are only a few, there are thousands of others over the years, a built-in library, if you will, of characters waiting to be taken off the shelf and used where necessary or appropriate.  We all have one of these banks.

You just have to know when to use them.

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 5

A triumphant return, not!

…

Whether a spy or an ex-spy, for some, nothing ever goes according to plan. 

And, fortuitously or otherwise, David is saved from the press conference at the airport, relegated in his absence to become the forlorn husband struck down by a mysterious malaise.

It’s a bit hard to explain being cut up in a knife attack in an airport restroom. Especially when the perpetrator is still resting in a broken toilet stall.

David never expected that life with Susan was going to be normal, whatever normal was or could be.  The fact is, David never really got to know the Susan that he married, somewhat out of convenience to her, other than that he loved her.

With the mother she had, the friends she had, and the constant battle with all of them, it had been hard to find a reason why he had chased her all over Europe, much less what to get back what only could be described as trouble.

Perhaps it had been the opportunity to dive back into that murky world, one that he had hated, and yet quite possibly loved, and missed.

The chase over, it was either time to get reacquainted or move on.

And what better way than to dive headfirst into her heady lifestyle, move into the Featherington London residence, go to parties, meet her new friends, and try not to upset the house staff.

Those who were genuine servants and those, alas, who were not.

…

Words written today, 2,609, for a total of 10,890.

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 6

Your friends are not my friends

…

So, integration into the Featherington empire is not going according to plan.

Whose plan, it might be asked.

Instead of just settling into a life of luxury and being the plus one for a woman who simply needed a consort, David has the nagging feeling everything around him is not as it should be.

He could cite the pain-killing drugs sending him into a world of conspiracies and hallucinations, that not everything around him was suspicious.

Take, for instance, her new business partners, far too handsome for their own good, and why is Susan flirting so openly with them?

Then there are the three Russian maids.  See no evil, hear no evil, speak evil, if they’re maids, why did they look and act like Russian spies?

Perhaps an old friend might be able to clear that up for him/

And why does the old family Butler, the only authentic person, other than the housekeeper who truly is both British to the core, and as genuine as they get, whispering in David’s ear that the mistress has changed, and he is concerned/

On day one in the London residence, it doesn’t take long to realize the walls have both eyes and ears, and thus the games afoot.

Once more he finds himself back in the murky world of lies and deceit.

…

Words written today, 1,917, for a total of 12,807.

In a word: Line

The English language has some marvelous words that can be used so as to have any number of meanings

For instance,

Draw a line in the sand

We would all like to do this with our children, our job, our relationships, but for some reason, the idea sounds really good in our heads, but it never quite works out in reality. What does it mean, whatever it is, this I’d where it ends or changes because it can’t keep going the way it is.

Inevitably it leads to,

You’ve crossed the line

Which at some point in our lives, and particularly when children, we all do a few times until, if we’re lucky we learn where that line is. It’s usually considered 8n tandem with pushing boundaries.

Of course, there is

A line you should never cross

And I like to think we all know where that is. Unfortunately, some do not and often find their seemingly idyllic life totally shattered beyond repair. An affair from either side of a marriage or relationship can do that.

You couldn’t walk a straight line if you tried

While we might debate what straight might mean in this context, for this adaptation it means staying on the right side of legality. Some people find a life of crime more appealing than doing honest days work.

This goes hand in hand with,

You’re spinning me a line

Which means you are being somewhat loose with the truth, perhaps in explaining where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. I think sometimes liars forget they need to have good memories.

Then there are the more practical uses of the word, such as

I have a new line of products

Is that a new fishing line?

Those I think most of us get, but it’s the more ambiguous that we have trouble with. Still, ambiguity is a writer’s best friend and we can make up a lot of stuff from just using one word.

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 4

With the best of intentions

…

Susan is used to the best things in life, being a very rich Lady Featherington, and staying in three-star tourist hotels, which is where David is staying, is somewhat downmarket for her.  For one night, it’s just a short stopover on her way back home, with David officially accompanying her as her spouse to be introduced to the world.

Not exactly his idea.

Perhaps she might find it amusing, but they have a history in staying in such hotels before they were married, and then it was ‘fun’.

With her arrival is a few unwanted and unwelcomed others, and David seeks these people out and warns them off.

Back together again since their last spell together in Greve, he is beginning to notice the little changes in her, perhaps from her time in incarceration, not enough to cause an issue, but is food for thought.

As background to this, Alisha advises that she is investigating Susan’s increased travels to Russia, and Moscow in particular, and requests David to assist with a subtle interrogation.  Perhaps later.

Sadly, the trip back home will not be in the company jet but on a commercial flight.

And, very nearly not the triumphant return expected when another assassination attempt happens at the airport.

Fortunately, Alisha is there once again to save him, patch him up, and send him home.

It begs the question; who wants him dead?

…

Words written today, 1,901, for a total of 8,281

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 5

A triumphant return, not!

…

Whether a spy or an ex-spy, for some, nothing ever goes according to plan. 

And, fortuitously or otherwise, David is saved from the press conference at the airport, relegated in his absence to become the forlorn husband struck down by a mysterious malaise.

It’s a bit hard to explain being cut up in a knife attack in an airport restroom. Especially when the perpetrator is still resting in a broken toilet stall.

David never expected that life with Susan was going to be normal, whatever normal was or could be.  The fact is, David never really got to know the Susan that he married, somewhat out of convenience to her, other than that he loved her.

With the mother she had, the friends she had, and the constant battle with all of them, it had been hard to find a reason why he had chased her all over Europe, much less what to get back what only could be described as trouble.

Perhaps it had been the opportunity to dive back into that murky world, one that he had hated, and yet quite possibly loved, and missed.

The chase over, it was either time to get reacquainted or move on.

And what better way than to dive headfirst into her heady lifestyle, move into the Featherington London residence, go to parties, meet her new friends, and try not to upset the house staff.

Those who were genuine servants and those, alas, who were not.

…

Words written today, 2,609, for a total of 10,890.

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 3

A holiday in Berlin

Most people think the life of a ‘problem solver’ is simply staying in the best hotels, and virtually going on an expensive all-expenses paid holiday, with a little work on the side.

They’d be wrong.

No first-class hotels, no living in the lap of luxury, just a hard slog, sometimes without result, sometimes ending up in a hospital, or in detention in a country where you really don’t want to be in detention.

And definitely no sightseeing.

So, in his place, we will take in the sights, like:

The Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, Checkpoint Charlie, Tiergarten and Hitler’s Bunker

Just to name a few.

Of course, there is the Stasi records office where our main character spends time researching various people.

Then, there are the beer halls, like then Hofbräuhaus München Berlin, and Alexanderplatz, accessible via the U-Bahn, and a station that was partially closed off during the division of Berlin, up until 1990.

But, after a week David is getting restless, and it’s time to go home.  Fortunately, or otherwise, Susan is coming to join him as she has decided it’s time for them to present him to the world at large, and back into her life.

…

Words written today, 2,071, for a total of 6,380

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 4

With the best of intentions

…

Susan is used to the best things in life, being a very rich Lady Featherington, and staying in three-star tourist hotels, which is where David is staying, is somewhat downmarket for her.  For one night, it’s just a short stopover on her way back home, with David officially accompanying her as her spouse to be introduced to the world.

Not exactly his idea.

Perhaps she might find it amusing, but they have a history in staying in such hotels before they were married, and then it was ‘fun’.

With her arrival is a few unwanted and unwelcomed others, and David seeks these people out and warns them off.

Back together again since their last spell together in Greve, he is beginning to notice the little changes in her, perhaps from her time in incarceration, not enough to cause an issue, but is food for thought.

As background to this, Alisha advises that she is investigating Susan’s increased travels to Russia, and Moscow in particular, and requests David to assist with a subtle interrogation.  Perhaps later.

Sadly, the trip back home will not be in the company jet but on a commercial flight.

And, very nearly not the triumphant return expected when another assassination attempt happens at the airport.

Fortunately, Alisha is there once again to save him, patch him up, and send him home.

It begs the question; who wants him dead?

…

Words written today, 1,901, for a total of 8,281

I think the asylum is beckoning

I’m sitting at my desk surrounded by any number of scraps of paper with more storylines, written excepts, parts of stories, and a number of chapters of a work in progress.

Does this happen to anyone else?

The business of writing requires a talent to keep focused on the one project, and silence all the other screaming voices in your head, pouring out their side of the story.

But it’s not working.

I try to be determined in my efforts to edit my current completed novel, after letting it ‘rest’ in my head for a few months.

I planned to have so time off, but all of those prisoners in my head started clamoring for my attention.  A story I started some time ago needs revising, another story I wrote last year of NANOWRIMO has come back to haunt me, and characters, well, they’re out in the waiting room, pacing up and down, ready to tell me their life stories.

Is the temporary cure coffee or wine?

Now I think I really do need a holiday

Or a trip to the asylum.  Thank God this is not the early 20th century, or I might never return.  And if it’s named Bellview, it would be just another story to be written.

The Author that went Bonkers!

Does it ever end?