Tag: Charles Heath

Thoughts, maybe

I remember one day many many years ago seeing a piece of graffiti in a railway tunnel:  “Being undead isn’t being alive”.

At the time I think I was suffering from a mega hangover.  Those were the days where there was no limit to stupidity, particularly when you had to go to work the next day.

But it made we wonder often over the next forty years what the graffiti artist was trying to tell the world.

Being undead?

I think they was alluding to the fact that being alive was more than just drawing breath and eating and sleeping.

I wondered what their predicament was.  Had he or she just broken up with a partner, that painful time when one or other calls it quits.  I suspect that’s not being undead.  I knew what that was like because it had happened to me, and no doubt just about everyone else, over the years, and I can assure you, you know your alive.

It is a pain like no other, that emptiness you feel, the reaching for the phone to talk to the one person you thought understood you, only they are no longer there, turning to the seat where they usually sit, and there is no one there.

Or is it like that feeling of bring betrayed, that awful feeling when you discover your partner is cheating on you, and inevitably you are the last to find out.  No, you feel that pain and it can be overwhelming.

That everyone else knew and thought they’d spare your feelings, hardly spares your feelings and only makes the betrayal worse, because your friends were hardly acting as friends

Being undead?

Might it allude to the fact you have become invisible?  Might it be you have been abandoned by everyone and everything, that feeling of hopelessness?  I suspect it might have been a precursor to depression.

Being Alive?

Is it that sensation of first love, so wonderful and yet so precarious, trying not to do the wrong thing, and inevitably making mistakes.

Is it being with family, the people you love and those who love you, doing simple things, sometimes ending each other’s sentences, or thinking the same thought at the same time?

I guess that’s why, when I write a romance novel, there is always a happy ending.

Sorry, perhaps that’s give the ending away on some of my books!

Short story writing – Actions have consequences

It’s time for the policewoman to arrive.

There is such a thing as pure dumb luck.

If she did not walk through the door when she did then Jack would have walked away.

From the policewoman’s perspective:

 

She crossed the street from the corner instead of remaining on the same side of the street as she did every other night.  When she reached the other sidewalk, she was about 20 yards from the nearest window of the store.

As she crossed, she got a better view of the three people in the store, and noticed the woman, or girl, was acting oddly, as if she had something in her hand, and, from time to time looked down beside her.

A yard or two from the window she stopped, took a deep breath, and then moved slowly, getting a better view of the scene with each step.

Then she saw the gun in the girl’s hand, and the two men, the shopkeeper and a customer, facing her, hands up.

It was a convenience store robbery in progress.

She reached for her radio, but it wasn’t there.  She was off duty.  Instead, she withdrew, and called the station on her mobile phone, and reported the robbery.  The officer on the end of the phone said a car would be there in five minutes.

In five minutes there could be dead bodies.

She had to do something, and reached into her bag and pulled out a gun.  Not her service weapon, but one she carried in case of personal danger.

 

Guns are dangerous weapons in the hands of professional and amateur alike.  You would expect a professional who has trained to use a gun to not have a problem, but consider what might happen in exceptional circumstances.

People freeze under pressure.  Alternately, some shoot first and ask questions later.

We have an edgy and frightened girl with a loaded gun, one bullet or thirteen in a magazine, it doesn’t matter.  It only takes one bullet to kill someone.

Then there’s the trigger pressure, light of heavy, the recoil after the shot and whether it causes the bullet to go into or above the intended target, especially if the person has never used a gun.

The policewoman, with training, will need two hands to take the shot, but in getting into the shop she will need one to open the door, and then be briefly distracted before using that hand to steady the other.

It will take a lifetime, even if it is only a few seconds.

Actions have consequences:

 

The policewoman crouched below the window shelf line so the girl wouldn’t see her, and made it to the door before straightening.  She was in dark clothes so the chances were the girl would not see her against the dark street backdrop.

Her hand was on the door handle about to push it inwards when she could feel in being yanked hard from the other side, and the momentum and surprise of it caused her to lose balance and crash into the man who was trying to get out.

What the hell…

A second or two later both were on the floor in a tangled mess, he gun hand caught underneath her, and a glance in the direction of the girl with the gun told her the situation had gone from bad to worse.

The girl had swung the gun around and aimed it at her and squeezed the trigger twice.

The two bangs in the small room was almost deafening, and definitely disorientating.

Behind her the glass door disintegrated when the bullet hit it.

Neither she or the man beside her had been hit.

Yet.

She felt a kick in the back and the tickling of glass, then broke free as the man she’s run into rolled out of the way.

Quickly on her feet, she saw the girl had gone, and wasted precious seconds getting up off the floor, then out the door to find she had disappeared.

She could hear a siren in the distance.  They’d find her.

 

If she had not picked that precise moment to enter the shop, maybe the man would have got away.

Maybe.

Is she had been aware of the fact he was allowed to leave.

He was lucky not to be shot.

Yet there were two shots, and we know at least one of them broke the door’s glass panel.

 

Next – the epilog

Thoughts, maybe

I’ve been trawling the endless collection of twitter descriptions provided by their users, noting that there is a restriction of 140 characters.

How do you sum yourself up in 140 characters?

I don’t think I can, so we tend to put down a few catch phrases, something that will draw followers.  I’m thinking the word ‘aspiring’ will be my catch word.

I’m aspiring to be a writer, or is that author?  Is there a difference, like for instance, one publishes ebooks on Amazon, one publishes hard copies in the traditional manner?

Is there a guide to what I can call myself?

Quite simply put, but in more than 140 characters, married happily, two wonderful children, three amazing grandchildren, and a wealth of experience acquired over the years.

Actually that sounds rather boring doesn’t it.

Perhaps it would be better if I was a retired policeman, a retired lawyer, a retired sheriff, a retired private investigator, a retired doctor, someone who had an occupation that was a rich mine of information from which to draw upon.

Retired computer programmers, supermarket shelf stackers, night cleaners, accounts clerks and general dogsbody s don’t quite cut the mustard.

I have also become fascinated with the expression ‘killer biography’.  Does it mean that I have to be a ‘killer’?

Better than the self confession above.  Should we try to embellish our personal history in order to make it more appealing?

It’s much the same as writing about daily life.  No one wants to read about it, people want to be taken out of the hum drum of normalcy and be taken into a world where they can become the character in the book.

And there you have it, in a nutshell, why I write.

I want to escape the mundanity of everyday life, and become something, someone else, and, with a little luck I want to you, the reader, on the ride with me.

 

 

The Things We Do For Love

Like Sunday in New York, this is another attempt at writing a romance novel.  I’m one of those deluded fools who believes in happy endings.

I guess that was a ‘spoiler’!

This is the description I’m currently working with.

 

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.  Tonbright, a small village by the sea, is one such a place, but he never expected to find another, 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 had happened.  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

 

Strangers We’ve Become

This is the sequel to ‘What Sets Us Apart’ and a continuation of the story of David and Susan, and their relationship which, as always, seems to be teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Following is a preliminary description for the book, and it will most likely change by the time it is published.

 

How well do you know your partner?

David had just moved heaven and earth to rescue his wife, Susan, from her evil father.

After a short re-acquaintance in Greve, Italy, they return to London where Susan becomes immediately immersed in her new role as Lady Featherington.  It was a life she was destined to inherit, but for David he is still not quite sure if he is ready for it.

A trip to Russia to confirm a suspicion, David meets with an old acquaintance, and becomes the target of an assassin. In the fallout from this, he discovers a secret Susan is hiding from him, one that could cause an end to their marriage.

How could she change so much in such a short time?

Reunited with Alisha, they join forces to find out why, discovering once again that Prendergast is running his own agenda, and Susan’s new bodyguards are not what they seem.

 

At the moment the cover is still under construction!

 

Writing Update – March

Just a short note to tell everyone where I am.

Other than slowly going crazy, because I think I have over-committed myself to too many projects.

Number one:  Strangers We’ve Become

This is the sequel to ‘What Sets Us Apart’, the continuing story of David and Susan, two people who should be together, but there just seems to be too many obstacles, and people in their way.

Of course, I had the first draft done about six months ago, and several re-writes since then, but one night, while the whole of the story was running around in my head (actually I was at page 317 on the most recent edit, when I realized I was not happy with how the story was progressing.

That’s right, five re-writes and four edits, and a very cranky editor who views complete re-writes as, well, let’s not go there.

I’ve now written all bu the last few pages of the part I felt was missing, and I’m feeling better about it.

It’s supposed to be published this month.  Oops!

Number two:  The things we do for love

This is essentially done and just requires me to re-read and make small amendments so that it can go to the editor.

Number three:  PI Walthenson

PI Walthenson Website

This was another of my many unfinished stories, and the first thirty odd episodes were written in the the early eighties when I worked at an IT company called Ferntree.  I let one of the receptionists at the time read the pages after I told her I was a wannabe writer, and she started posting them as an email every morning.

The staff loved in but the bosses hated the traffic it caused on the network, distributing it to over a large number of employees every morning.  These were the days before Outlook and we were using a stodgy mainframe based email program.

Since then I have continued to write episodes, each getting bigger, or around a page an a half, and the story is about to become deeper and darker.

But it takes a lot of effort to write each episode.

Number four:  Writing a book about writing a book.

Writing a book about writing a book website

This is my fun exercise, and based on a work that I wrote, also in the early eighties.  The original manuscript ran to 400 odd typewritten pages, and now that I’ve taken an interest in it again, I’m taking the opportunity to re-write it whilst transcribing it onto the computer from the typewritten pages.

I have also create a web site for the novel and will be updating it with information about each of the characters, the plot, and a blow by blow synopsis as it develops.

At the moment I’m working on the main characters back story and once this is done I will be publishing it as a novella, along with new material that will not make the final book.

I am hoping the project will be finished by the end of this year, and the backstory novella about June this year.

Number five:  First Dig Two Graves

This is the sequel to the Zoe the assassin novel and is about three quarters finished.  I have written several sections, as I do, separately in Notepad, but I cannot find the files, and this is impeding progress.  It is sitting on the back burner, and will be the next book after the previous two mentioned above are published.

 

Travel is part of the story – Paris

We have been to Paris a number of times over the years.

The first was at the end of a whirlwind bus tour, seven countries in seven days or something like that.  It was a relief to get to Paris and stay two nights if only to catch our breath.

I remember three events from that tour, the visit to the Eiffel Tower, the tour of the night lights, not that we were able to take much in from the inside of the bus, and the farewell dinner in one of the tour guides specially selected restaurants.  The food and atmosphere was incredible.  It was also notable for introducing us to a crepe restaurant in Montmartre, another of the tour guide’s favorite places.

On that trip to Paris we also spent an afternoon exploring the Palace of Versailles.

The next time we visited Paris we flew in from London.  OK, it was a short flight, but it took all day.  From the hotel to the airport, the wait at the airport, departure, flying through time zones, arrival at Charles De Gaulle airport, now there’s an experience, and waiting for a transfer that never arrived, but that’s another story.

I can’t remember where we stayed the first time, it was somewhere out in the suburbs, but the second time we stayed at the Hilton near both the Eiffel Tower and the Australian Embassy, notable only because the concierge was dating an Australian girl working in the Embassy.  That was our ticket for special treatment, which at times you need to get around in Paris.

It was the year before 2000 and the Eiffel Tower was covered in lights, and every hour or so it looked like a bubbling bottle of champagne.  It was the first time we went to Level 3 of the Tower, and it was well worth it.  The previous tour only included Level 2.  This time we were acquainted with the frites available on the second level, and down below under the tower.

This time we acquainted ourselves with the Metro, the underground railway system, to navigate our way around to the various tourist spots, such as Notre Dame de Paris, The Louvre, Sacre-Coeur basilica, and Les Invalides, and, of course, the trip to the crepe restaurant.

We also went to the Louvre for the express purpose of seeing the Mona Lisa, and I came away slightly disappointed.  I had thought it to be a much larger painting.  We then went to see the statue of Venus de Milo, and spent some time trying to get a photo of it without stray visitors walking in front of us.  Aside from that, we spent the rest of the day looking at the vast number of paintings, and Egyptian artifacts in the Museum.

We also visited the Opera House which was architecturally magnificent.

The third time we visited Paris we took our daughter, who was on her first international holiday.  This time we stayed in a quaint Parisian hotel called Hotel Claude Bernard Saint Germain, (43 Rue Des Ecoles, Paris, 75005, France),  recommended to us by a relation who’d stayed there the year before.  It was small, and the elevator could only fit two people or one person and a suitcase.  Our rooms were on the 4th floor, so climbing the stairs with luggage was out of the question.

It included breakfast and wifi, and it was quite reasonable for the four days we stayed there.

It was close to everything you could want, down the hill to the railway station, and a square were on some days there was a market, and for those days when we were hungry after a day’s exploring, a baguette shop where rolls and salad were very inexpensive and very delicious.

To our daughter we appeared to be experienced travelers, going on the Metro, visiting the Louvre, going, yes once again, to the crepe restaurant and the Basilica at Montmartre, Notre Dame, and this time by boat to the Eiffel Tower.  We were going to do a boat rode on the Seine the last time but ran out of time.

We have some magnificent photos of the Tower from the boat.

Lunch on one of the days was at a restaurant not far from the Arc de Triomphe, where our daughter had a bucket of mussels.  I was not as daring and had a hamburger and frites.  Then we went to the centre of the Arch and watched the traffic.

Our first time in Paris the bus driver got into the roundabout just to show us the dangers of driving in an unpredictable situation where drivers seem to take huge risks to get out at their exit.  Needless to say we survived that experience, though we did make a number of circuits.

The next time we visited Paris we brought the two eldest grandchildren.   We took the EuroStar train from St Pancras station direct to Disneyland, then took the free bus from the station to the hotel.  The train station was directly outside Disneyland.

We stayed at the Dream Castle Hotel, rather than Disneyland itself as it was a cheaper option and we had a family room that was quite large and breakfast was included every morning.  Then it was a matter of getting the free bus to Disneyland.

We spent three days, time which seem to pass far too quickly, and we didn’t get to see everything.  They did however find the time to buy two princess dresses, and then spent the rest of the time playing dress-ups whenever they could.

In Paris we stayed at the Crown Plaza at Republique Square, and took the children to the Eiffel Tower where the frites, and the carousel at the bottom of the tower, seemed to be more memorable than the tower itself.  The day we visited the third level was closed.  The day was cold and windy so that probably accounted for the less than memorable visit.

We travelled on the Metro where it was pointed out to me that the trains actually ran on rubber tyres, something I had not noticed before.  It was a first for both children to travel on a double decked train.

When we went to the Louvre where, when we took the girls to the Mona Lisa, one said, “and we walked all this way to see this small painting”.  It quickly became obvious their idea of paintings were the much larger ones hanging in other galleries.  We took them to the Arc de Triomphe, the Disney shop, which I’m still wondering why after spending a small fortune at Disneyland itself, the Opera House, where one of the children thought she saw the ghost and refused to travel in one of the elevators, and lastly Notre Dame.

Sadly, I don’t think they were all that interested in architecture, but at the Opera House they did actually get to see some ballet stars from the Russian Bolshoi ballet company practicing.  As we were leaving the next day we could not go and see a performance.

All in all, travelling with children and experiencing Paris through their eyes made it a more memorable experience.

One Last Look

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.

Purchase:

http://tinyurl.com/Amazon-OneLastLook

onelastlookcoverfinal2

What Sets Us Apart

David is a man troubled by a past he is trying to forget.

Susan is rebelling against a life of privilege and an exasperated mother who holds a secret that will determine her daughter’s destiny.

They are two people brought together by chance.  Or was it?

When Susan discovers her mother’s secret, she goes in search of the truth that has been hidden from her since the day she was born.

When David realises her absence is more than the usual cooling off after another heated argument, he finds himself being slowly drawn back into his former world of deceit and lies.

Then, back with his former employers, David quickly discovers nothing is what it seems as he embarks on a dangerous mission to find Susan before he loses her forever.

Purchase:

http://tinyurl.com/Amazon-WhatSetsUsApart

whatsetscover

The Devil You Don’t

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’.

Purchase:

http://tinyurl.com/Amazon-TheDevilYouDont

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