Tag: Creative Writing

Looking for locations: Somewhere in Tuscany, Italy

The thing is, all hilltop towns in Tuscany are quaint.

My problem was, we saw so many unless you wrote down the name when you were there, they become a blur.

This one had the main road in, and then you could go in one of two directions, left or right.

They were not made for cars, and the streets are so narrow, often you find mere inches between the walls and the side of the car.

Instead, there are lots of narrow walkways and alleys to explore.  I’d hate to be given an address of a house, and then try to find it.  I doubt even a GPS would be about to locate it.

This is the main street into the town

Sorry, you can only go right

Pedestrians share the road with cars, and it’s no surprise that in Europe, and particularly Italy, a lot of their cars are very small.  Now I know why!

They also have lots of arches, and I wonder if that’s someone’s bedroom overlooking the roadway

There’s very little room for gardens, and every bit of building space is utilized

Who knows where this alleyway leads

What seems to be a guard tower on the outskirts of the town, overlooking the valley below, perhaps waiting for invaders of a different sort

Perhaps you don’t like the idea of having neighbours.

And, of course, there’s always a church, and the door is always open

We have this sport called football, Australian style

In Melbourne, it’s an institution even a religion.  Traditionally it is played on a Saturday afternoon and luckily for us, we are attending such a game.

The stadium is the mcg, one of the best in Australia.  Shortly after the start, I’d estimate there are about 40,000, but eventually, there was 53,000, spectators here for a clash between the two Melbourne based teams.  It is not unheard of to have in closer to 90,000 spectators, and the atmosphere is at times electric.

For the die-hards like me who can remember the days when there were only Victorian-based teams,  in the modern-day form of the game, to have two such teams is something of a rarity.

However, it’s not so much about the antics on the field as it is the spectators.  They are divided into three groups, the members, the private boxes and the general public.

But in the end, there is no distinction between any of them because they all know the rules, well, their version of them, and it doesn’t matter who you are, If there is something that goes against your team, it is brings a huge roar of disapproval.

Then there are ebbs and flows in the crowd noise and reactions to events like holding the ball attracting a unified shout ‘ball, or a large collective groan when a free kick should have been paid or by the opposite team’s followers if it should have been.

It is this crowd reaction which makes going to a live game so much better than watching it televised live.  The times when players take marks, get the ball out of congestion, and when goals are scored when your team is behind and when one is needed to get in front.

This is particularly so when one of the stars goes near the ball and pulls off a miracle 1 percent movement of the ball.  These are what we come to see, the high flying marks, the handball threaded through a needle, a kick that reaches one of our players that looked like it would never get there, an intercept mark or steal that throws momentum the opposite way.

This game is not supposed to be a game of inches but fast yards, a kick, a mark, a handball, a run and bounce.  You need to get the ball to your goal as quickly as possible.

That’s the objective.

But in this modern game, much to the dismay of spectators and commentators alike, there is this thing called flooding where all 36 players are basically in a clump around the ball and it moves basically in inches, not yards.

It is slow and it is ugly.

It is not the game envisioned by those who created it and there is a debate right now about fixing it.

Here, it is an example of the worst sort.  This game is played in four quarters and for the first two, it is ugly scrappy play with little skill on display.  The third shows improvement and it seems the respective coaches had told their players to open it up

They have and it becomes better to look at.

But this is the point where one team usually gets away with a handy lead, a third-quarter effort that almost puts the game out of reach.  The fourth quarter is where the losing team stages a comeback, and sometimes it works sometimes it does not.

The opposition gives it a red hot try but is unsuccessful.  Three goals in a row, it gave their fans a sniff of hope but as the commentators call it, a kick against the flow and my team prevails.

It is the moment to stay for when they play the winning teams song over the stadium’s loudspeaker system, and at least half the spectators sing along.  It is one of those hair raising on the back of your neck moments which for some can be far too few in a season

We have great hopes for our team this year, and it was worth the trek from Brisbane to Melbourne to see it live rather than on the TV

Leaving the ground with thousands of others heading towards the train station for the journey home there is a mixture of feelings, some lamenting their teams, and others jubilant their team won.  There is no rancour, everyone shuffles in an orderly manner, bearing the slow entry to the station, and the long lines to get on the train.

Others who perhaps came by car, or who have decided to wait for a later train or other transport, let their children kick the football around on the leaf-covered parkland surrounding the stadium.

It is an integral part of this game that children experience the football effect.  Kicking a ball with your father, brothers, and sisters, or friends on that late autumn afternoon is a memory that will be cherished for a long long time.

It’s where you pretend you are your favourite player and are every bit as good.  I know that’s what I used to do with my father, and that is what I did with my sons.

But no matter what the state of the game, it is the weekend the football fans look forward to and whom turn out in their hundreds of thousands.  It is a game that ignites passions, it brings highs and it brings incredible lows.

And, through thick and thin, we never stop supporting them.

Where does time go?

NaNoWriMo starts in a few days time and I thought I had it under control, the preparatory work that is.

Nothing could be further than the truth.

I was looking at the outline last night, and it was as if I had the finished book in my hands and I was doing the second reading, part of the endless editing process.

Plot holes bigger than sink holes were appearing before my eyes.

The start is, quite frankly, lame.

There something missing in the middle and there seems some disjointed writing that seems to have no relevance to anything before, so..

Back to the drawing board and …

Panic.

What I need is some thing to hook the reader from page one, not put them to sleep.

OMG.

How the hell am I going to get this mess into some sort of shape before the start.

I guess there’s no time like the present.

Being Inspired – the book

Over the past year or so I have been selecting photographs I’ve taken on many travels, and put a story to them.

When I reached a milestone of 50 stories, I decided to make them into a book, and, in doing so, I have gone through each and revised them, making some longer and into short stories.

50 photographs, 50 stories.  I’ve called it, “Inspiration, Maybe”

It will be available soon.

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Past conversations with my cat – 21

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This is Chester. He’s waiting for me.

Or he is on guard mode. He does this sometimes when he hears the click of the back gate latch.

He has better hearing than me.

I’m not sure what he’s going to do if the visitor is 6 foot 10 and carrying an Uzi but it’s good to know we’re both going down fighting.

But, nothing.

It’s the wind again.

I guess if a cat could sigh, he would.

And winge about the vagaries of weather interrupting his afternoon nap.

That gives me an idea…

“Echoes From The Past”, buried, but not deep enough

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.

http://amzn.to/2F7gqAL

newechocover5rs

 

Reality television, just why am I watching this stuff?

If I was ever in doubt that there was one medium that could produce a thousand storylines, it’s watching reality television.

It is truly horrible, and is somewhat akin to a ‘train wreck’.  Why, then, do we watch it?  And why on earth am I watching it?

Currently, where I live, there was a show called ‘Married at first sight’.  Going by the title, you can guess the premise, two people are matched by ‘science’ and meet for the first time at the altar.  They then live together, with and without external influences for a number of weeks before deciding if they want to continue after the show ends.

As it happens, the experts here have yet to get it right in a number of series (or, I think they may have succeeded on one occasion).

Whilst the fact it looks to be scripted, a fact the Producers vehemently deny, it is impossible to wrap your head around some of the antics, and especially the words used by the ‘participants’.  Decent people do not ‘act’ in the manner of some of these people, and more often than not, several of the ‘participants’ are labeled by the public as ‘actors’.

I guess, in most reality television, ratings can only be achieved by controversy.

Certainly, the Twitterverse goes off after an episode, championing the good and railing into the bad.  Each will, good or bad, get their fifteen minutes of fame.

And, is it not surprising we have learned one of the participants is going to write a ‘no holds barred’ account of her time in the show, but given the fact all participants have to sign an NDA,  I don’t whether it will ever hit the bookstores.

I was considering doing the same, from an armchair perspective.   But, sadly, when I thought about it, it would never sell.  No one could believe or even identify with the antics these people get up to.

It’s the reason why Big Brother disappeared.

But, never fear, there’s a new disaster, I mean series, on TV called Love Island.  I’ve seen the promos.  Perhaps I should leave it at that!

It’s heating up

Round about now, in our part of the southern hemisphere, spring is nearly a month gone and leading into November, we start having hot days.

Today, is is going to be 30 degrees Celsius.

This is the calm before the storm, because round about now, we not only have to contend with the heat, we also have the humidity, sometimes reaching 100 percent.

Those days, every move you make, causes endless perspiration.

So, best not to go outside if you can avoid it.

Some years ago we out in air conditioning and it’s been great for summer. Then, the climate change became a factor in everything, and saw huge increases in the cost of water, and in particular, electricity.

Our bill for summer frequently topped a 1,000 dollars for the three months, and getting worse every year.

So, last year we put on solar panels. What a difference. The air conditioning costs very little and our bills are now about 300 dollars for the three months.

More money then for holidays.

Watching the ice hockey has put in my mind a trip to either Canada or America, to coincide with the Maple Leads playing. In Toronto, if they play there it costs a small fortune for tickets, last time over 1,800 dollars, and they lost. As it happened when we were in New York, they were playing the New Jersey Devils, so we jumped on the train and went. It cost 280 dollars, and they won.

I think there’s a message there.

New York, here we come.

Aside from the lure of ice hockey, there’s the cold. The idea of minus 19 degrees may faze some people, but not us. If you can imagine endless days at 35 degrees Celsius with 100 percent humidity, you would understand why we prefer to be anywhere but home.

But, of course, there’s quite a few places where ice hockey is played, and where it is equally as cheap to go and see them play, so I’m checking out the draw.

And I can check put some new locations for my stories.

That’s what I call win-win.

What’s on the menu?

I’m finding it hard to get back into the groove.  I suspect I was not in one before, but I was writing, and the stories were coming together.

My biggest accomplishment for the latter part of 2018 was writing 50,000 words for a NANOWRIMO book.  It’s interesting that it seems to be the only time I can focus my mind on writing.

As it happened, the creative mind was organised and the ideas and words flowed.  I know it was just supposed to be raw writing, but I even had time to rewrite the start.  As we all know, by the time you get to the end, a lot of stuff at the start needs to be fixed, especially in light of plot changes and continuity.

Now, looking at the document on the screen, I have the job of editing and re-writing.

Perhaps I should give that a few more months before I start.  There’s something going on at the NaNoWriMo site that says to leave it until they run the re-write month in April, or something like that.

That month came and went, and the file had not been looked at since.  Perhaps later this year.

Then there’s the sequel to What Sets Us Apart, called Strangers We’ve Become I’m writing.

Here’s the thing.

It was done and dusted, and I was doing a final read before handing to the editor.  That was a mistake.  I seem to be one of those writers that can’t let it go.  I should not have done the final re-read!

I don’t know if anyone else has the same problem, but as soon as I had finished it, I had a feeling (oh no not one of those feelings, I can hear the editor saying) and something was not quite right.

I hate it when I am in one of those moods, and looking at it, I could see where there was a problem and began the re-write.  Problem is, it affects later on, so there’s going to be cuts and additions.

So the question is what do I attack first?

Start a new novel, work on the old novel, or … ?

Perhaps I should just pour another drink and go back to watching the ice hockey?  The Maple Leafs are up and down this year, and that’s equally frustrating.

Decisions, decisions…

The first case of PI Walthenson – “A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers”

This case has everything, red herrings, jealous brothers, femme fatales, and at the heart of it all, greed.

Coming soon!

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