Tag: creativity

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

Almost nonsensical descriptions we sometimes use without thinking

I found this explanation on the internet which seems to sum up what odd phrases like ‘you can’t judge a book by its cover’ mean: ‘a word or phrase used in a non-literal sense for rhetorical or vivid effect.’

We, as writers, are constantly reminded that we should not use these in our writing because most people might not understand their use.

But, being that unconventional, never to be told, type, I honestly think that 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 conversation.

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, but it means to get the hell out of dodge quickly.  Hang on, that’s another saying, American, and the way Dodge city was in western American folklore, if you irritated a gunslinger, then best be on your way, fast.

Otherwise, yes, you guessed it, you were at the end of another saying, you would get a one-way ticket to boot hill.  In other words, the cemetery.

And while I’m digressing, again, Yul Brynner made a trip to boot hill very memorable in The Magnificent Seven.

Then,

‘Like a bull in a china shop’, describes a toddler let loose, not necessarily in a china shop, but I have seen it happen in reality and it wasn’t pretty

‘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, and means that someone has the nerve to be so confronting

‘As mad as a hatter’, though not necessarily of the millinery kind, but, well, you can guess, it’s from Alice in Wonderland

‘As nutty as a fruitcake’, provided your fruitcake has nuts in it, we seemed to have coined the phrase nutty, or nuts for people who are a little, or a lot, eccentric

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

 

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 1

People change.

It’s a fact of life that over time people change.  Yes, they do keep some of their original characteristics, but a lot of people sometimes wake up, forty years later, and wonder who it is that they are in bed with.

It hasn’t happened to me yet, but the person I married has changed.

We all do.

External influences like workplaces, friends, enemies, attitudes, and even children, all have an influence on who we become.  I personally have no idea where the 18-year-old version of me has gone, not that I remember much of him.

So it goes for our hero, David.  He has an inkling of who Susan is or was, but so much has changed for her.  Her mother is dead, she had been held captive by a madman, drugged and tortured, it would have to affect anyone.

But, then, there are different nuances, so un Susan-like.  Little changes he knows she might not partake in, and it is these that start him wondering, what if…

Firstly, she cuts short a planned reunion away in Italy, time for them to reconnect.  Yes, she is now head of the family business, yes, she is hanging out with new men in her life, and no, it seems he does not fit into her corporate persona.

Then there is the first assassination attempt.

On him.

…

Words written today, 1,953, for a total of 1,953

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 2

Renewing old acquaintances

…

Alisha, the agent that helped David track down Susan in the first book, is called back to once again rescue him, and, of course, play the devil’s advocate.

She doesn’t believe Susan is Susan.

And has been waiting in the wings for something like an assassination attempt to happen.  While not apparently keeping an eye on him, he had enlisted the services of a waitress in his favorited café to alert her if anything happens.

In the washup, he’s forced to consider two possibilities, that Susan arranged for him to be killed, that coincidence of her just leaving and the assassin’s arrival, or that Bespalov’s friends were on a revenge mission.

It’s just another little indicator that his Susan might not be ‘the’ Susan.

But more importantly, it brings Alisha back into his life, a woman who Prendergast assigned to help him in his quest to find his wife, and along the way, nearly getting too close.

She convinces him his time in Italy, and keeping away from the problems of his marriage to Susan, is over, and arrives to take him back to England via Berlin.

And, of course, there is that latent threat Prendergast gave him back when he offered to help David, find her, get back together, or come back to work for him in his old job.

Somewhere, one might say, between a rock and a hard place.

…

Words written today, 2,356, for a total of 4,309

It continued in London – Episode 25

A small job, really?

…

Nothing Rodby did, didn’t have an ulterior motive, and as cynical as that sounded, I had to wonder what it was.

Rodby just didn’t understand I didn’t want to go back to that life of always looking over the shoulder.  Disappearing and reinventing myself with Violetta changed my life.

Now she was no longer there, it was like that cloak of invisibility had gone.  Rodby hadn’t said as much but I knew he was going to formally ask me to return to work, citing the reason I’d be better off doing something rather than dwelling on the past.

It was hard to dispute that fact.  I needed something to do.  Just existing even in a place like Venice was not living.  And finding someone else, well, I was not sure what Violetta might think, but I knew she would not want to see me like this.

I was not sure how going to the opera as a plus one was going to make a difference, and I was trying not to play down Martha’s invitation. She didn’t share her passions with just anybody, nor would she be a cohort in one of Rodby’s recruiting schemes.

He was not so circumspect

So, I dusted off the tuxedo one more time, even though I didn’t really feel in the mood for anything. Time had not made me a size too large or smaller, despite the good life I’d had over the last few years.  Italian cooking was hardly the manna dieters went to as a first choice, but then, I was not under so much pressure to stay fit.

This was in part due to the fact I didn’t forsake the fitness regime I had adopted for many years; I just didn’t go at it so hard, and it had served me well.  The suit still fitted.

The text from Rodby arrived about ten minutes before the car was due to pick me up outside the front door.  I was hoping I would not have to get a cab, expecting I would have to get myself to the Royal Opera house

When I reached the curb, the car was waiting, the chauffeur waiting to open the door for me.  My first impression, he was more a bodyguard than a chauffeur; I could just see the earpiece connecting him to an invisible army.

As the door opened, I could see there was another person in the car, and, at first sight, I thought it might be Martha, Rodby, who detested opera, somehow getting out of going, but it was not. 

It was another woman, very elegantly dressed about my age or perhaps a few years younger though she had managed to keep what must have been, in her younger days, devastating beauty.

A princess perhaps of a foreign country, she had that classical European look.  Martha knew a lot of different people, rich, poor, aristocratic, and others like me.

I climbed in and the chauffeur closed the door.

“Welcome, said the spider to the fly.”  She said it with just a hint of a smile, discernible in the light striking her just right from a streetlamp overhead.

“Rodby didn’t tell me there was another guest, so please forgive my momentary surprise.  My name is Evan Wallace, but no doubt you already knew that.”

“I did.  It was going to be my next question.  Rodby would be very annoyed if I picked up just any man off the street. I am Countess Heidi von Burkhardt, though I do not want you to use that title tonight.  I am, today, just Heidi.”

“Then just Heidi it will be.”

The car eased its way out into the traffic quietly and smoothly.  It was so quiet I could just hear the symphony playing in the background, one I’d heard before but could put a name to.  Just yet. It would come to me.

“Rodby failed to mention you would be coming to the opera.”

“He would.  Martha’s idea, she seems to have this soft spot for you, or at least that was the impression I got when she mentioned you might be coming, and I suspect she might also be dabbling in a little matchmaking.”

It wouldn’t be the first time.  She had tried finding someone for me after Violetta died, but I told her it would be too soon.  Perhaps she had assumed enough time had passed.

“There isn’t a Count?”

“There was, but he passed some months ago.  It would not have mattered though; we had an unusual and mutually agreeable arrangement.  I spent his money, and he did, well, whatever it is Counts do.  He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask, but I suspect it killed him in the end.”

“Did you love him?”  An odd question that had popped into my mind and was out before I could stop it.

“My.  Martha did warn me you could be direct; she called it refreshingly honest.”

“Sorry, sometimes the words come out before I consider whether they’re appropriate or not.  Just ignore that question “

“No.  It’s one I asked myself after his passing, and truth be told, I did. I had such romantic notions when I was young, that I was going to find a prince and marry him.  I didn’t find the prince, but I live in a castle, with turrets and towers and dungeons.  Just no dragons, except for the housekeeper.”

She shuddered. 

Cold or memories?

“You live there?”

“I did, I haven’t been back since Gustav died, but I will have to, some inheritance matters have come up, and I’ve been summoned to Bacharach to meet with the Rechtsanwalte.  Perhaps I’ll go after the opera, literally joy followed by pain.”

The car stopped and we arrived outside the Royal Opera house.  For a few seconds, the smile had disappeared, and it was replaced with a frown, no doubt brought on by the thought of facing the German legal system.

Then, as the door opened, she changed.

No one told me she was a celebrity and there would be limelight, flashing cameras, and a host of journalists.

© Charles Heath 2022

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 0

Before it all begins

…

Anyone can write a book.

It’s an extravagant statement and not necessarily true, but often used by relatives when one of their numbers says they’ve written a book.

My brother said that when I told him I’d written one

I didn’t tell him that I’d written a dozen and published five, it seemed irrelevant at the time.

But as easy or hard as it may be to write one, writing a second is so much harder.

One of those five was ‘What sets us apart’, a story about a retired ‘problem solver’ who meets a girl, marries her, then she disappears.

It’s not long before he’s dragged back down the rabbit hole of ‘problem-solving’, this time a problem of his own.

Needless to say, there are endless espionage undertones along the way, meeting up with old friends, new friends, and enemies alike.

And his wife was not who he expected her to be, but something else entirely.

Oh, and just for good measure, the girl is the daughter of an old friend of his ex-boss, Prendergast, the legendary spymaster.

It was fun writing the first, weaving the story through several unexpected twists and turns, and arriving at a point where he finally gets her back.

Or has he?

As

I was writing it, and it occurred to me that this could become a second book, a sequel, that could explore the theme that she might not be the real Susan.  After all, in the first, our hero has to contend with several clones that are almost impossible to separate from the real Susan.

What if he hadn’t rescued his Susan?

Thus, a sequel was born, “Strangers we’ve become’, and the project for this year’s NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo – 2022 – Day 1

People change.

It’s a fact of life that over time people change.  Yes, they do keep some of their original characteristics, but a lot of people sometimes wake up, forty years later, and wonder who it is that they are in bed with.

It hasn’t happened to me yet, but the person I married has changed.

We all do.

External influences like workplaces, friends, enemies, attitudes, and even children, all have an influence on who we become.  I personally have no idea where the 18-year-old version of me has gone, not that I remember much of him.

So it goes for our hero, David.  He has an inkling of who Susan is or was, but so much has changed for her.  Her mother is dead, she had been held captive by a madman, drugged and tortured, it would have to affect anyone.

But, then, there are different nuances, so un Susan-like.  Little changes he knows she might not partake in, and it is these that start him wondering, what if…

Firstly, she cuts short a planned reunion away in Italy, time for them to reconnect.  Yes, she is now head of the family business, yes, she is hanging out with new men in her life, and no, it seems he does not fit into her corporate persona.

Then there is the first assassination attempt.

On him.

…

Words written today, 1,953, for a total of 1,953

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 45

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

The shrill ring tone of my phone woke me.

And, for a moment I was in a state of panic because I’d woken in unfamiliar surroundings.  Until my eyes cleared and I realized I was still at Nadia’s.

And it was morning.

What the….

The phone was still ringing, and Nadia, lying on the bed beside me rolled over and said, sleepily, “Are you going to answer that?”

I picked up the phone off the bedside table and pressed the green button.  

I already knew it was Boggs.

“Don’t you know what time it is?”  It was nine, a respectable hour of the morning to call.  It was just that I was tired.

“Where are you?”

I could lie, or I could tell the truth.  I don’t think I should say at home because I suspect that was where Boggs was now.  And my mother would be there, wondering what happened to me.

“Out and about.  Nice day for some exercise.  Why?”

“Your mother is not happy you didn’t come home.  And I’m surprised.  Where were you?”

Good question.  One that needed time to consider, time I didn’t have.

“Surveillance.  I’ve been watching Alex and his friends.  It’s been a long night.  What do you want?”

“I was going to head down towards Kentville, check on the other river.  We need to drive down there.”

“Well, right now I’m busy, so it will have to wait until tomorrow morning.  Sorry.  I have a job to do, and then I have to get home before I go to work.”

“What was Alex up to?”

“Not over the phone.  I’ll tell you when I see you.  Come back home about lunchtime.”
I could tell by the silence he wasn’t happy. 

“OK.”  He hung up.

I glared at the phone and put it back on the table, then turned to look at Nadia.  First thing I noted, we were both still in the clothes we were wearing the previous night.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”  A momentary look of disappointment crossed her face.  “You were tired and I told you to stay.”

“Nothing can happen, or I’ll become Vince fodder.”

“I wouldn’t tell him.”

“He’d find out.  He has walls as spies.”  I looked around the room looking for potential spy cameras or bug locations.

“He wouldn’t dare.”

I climbed off the bed and smoothed out my clothes.  It didn’t make much difference to the crumpled look.  “At least it looks like I’ve been on an all-night surveillance assignment.”

“What are you going to tell Boggs.”

“Nothing.  There’s nothing concrete to tell him yet, just that Alex is, like the rest of us, running around in circles.

Nadia remained on the bed, and even though she looked as messy as I did, hers was a far more alluring messy.  I could feel the pangs of a forbidden desire.  Time to go.

“Come back tonight.  We can go on a voyage of discovery, see the mall as you’ve never seen it before.”

“Sounds like a Discovery Channel documentary advert.”

She sat up then stood and teased the knots out of her hair.  It was the first time I’d seen it out.  It gave her a whole new, softer look.

“Is that a look of desire I see in your eyes, Smidge?”

And the whole moment was shot to pieces.

“Don’t call me that.  I’ll see you tonight, though I’m not sure why.”

I let myself out, after carefully checking to see if the way out was clear.  The last thing I wanted, or needed, was to tangle with Vince.

Or ending up letting the dream become reality.

 
© Charles Heath 2020

The cinema of my dreams – I never wanted to go to Africa – Episode 46

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.

…

It took longer, as everything does when you’re in a hurry.
 
The plane was loaded, the fuel truck had just disconnected the final hose, and was leaving the field, and Davies was firing up the engines.
 
Everyone was on board and strapped in.  I gave my thanks to the Colonel and shut the door before joining Davies in the cockpit.
 
Looking at her cool, calm demeanor gave me confidence.  If anyone could get us out of here in one piece, she could.
 
I put the headphones on and put on the seat belt, just as she revved the engines, saw the wave from the ground crewman who removed the wheel chocks, and we started moving.
 
15 minutes to spare.  Would it be enough?
 
The Colonel had said that it was possible the helicopter might be one of those belonging to the air force and might have missiles that could shoot us down.  Not a good thought.  At the very least it would have a cannon, and if the bullets hit us, it could make an awful mess of the fuselage.
 
He didn’t have any good news though.
 
I was hoping it would just be a commercial helicopter with a couple of thugs with handguns shooting at us.
 
At the top of the runway, she didn’t waste time going to full throttle, and we started rumbling down the runway.  Unfortunately, the wind had changed and to take off we had to initially fly towards Congo airspace before turning towards our destination.
 
Then we lifted off and started gaining altitude.
 
Then I heard Davies mutter, “Fuck.”
 
Trouble.  I saw what elicited the curse.  The helicopter, heading towards us.
 
“Military,” she added.
 
Not that I had any idea what I was looking for, but it didn’t seem to have rockets, but it did have a cannon barrel under the fuselage.
 
“Brace yourself,” she said.  “We’re about to get on the roller coaster.”
 
Still climbing we were getting closer, and I could just see the cannon move.  If it was shooting rounds, they didn’t hit us, not from such a distance, but they were getting closer because we were still flying towards them.
 
Then, suddenly, she turned the planes to the right and down, a plunge so quick that my stomach was in my mouth.  I hate to think what it would be like for those in the back.
 
Aside from the fact my hearing was blocked by the headphones, I could still hear several mini-explosions coming from behind me.
 
Another curse, rather longer this time, from Davies and she twisted the plane back in the opposite direction, and heading around towards the airfield again, much lower down this time, with the helicopter in hot pursuit.
 
Now we couldn’t see it, but it would have a good view of our engines and tail.
 
If any of the bullets hit, we’d be in big trouble.
 
I was bracing myself for disaster.
 
Davies was coaxing the plane upwards, but it seemed sluggish.
 
Nothing happened.
 
“Gun’s jammed.” She said.  “If you don’t maintain your equipment…”
 
That statement was cut off by a huge explosion and turning as far as I could in my seat I just saw the remnants of a firewall, what was once a helicopter.
 
“Ground to air rocket.  The Colonel must have some interesting toys at his disposal.”  Davies sounded very relieved.
 
I started breathing again.
 
“Are we damaged?”  It was a valid question.  The plane seemed like it was flying awkwardly.
 
“I’d say so., Those explosions.  Cannon fire hitting the fuselage.  Probably took out some controls, or failing that, since there’s still maneuverability, probably just a few holes creating drag.”
 
She was a matter of fact like, but that was more because she was fighting the controls to keep us moving in the right direction.
 
Away from trouble.
 
“Go check it out,” she said.
 
At the head of the cabin, I saw the problem, a row of neat holes carved from one window through to halfway along the fuselage, going down.  We’d be lucky if one of the bullets hadn’t struck one of the wires that drove the flaps/
 
There was a hell of a noise from the air coming in through the holes.  
 
By the second window, slumped forward, was Shurl.  There was blood and blood spatter on the floor.  Monroe came up to me and yelled in my ear.
 
“Damned good flying, and only one casualty.  We were incredibly lucky.  Shurl wasn’t quick enough to get on the floor.  Other than that, we’re still in the air, and I’m guessing someone shot the helo down?”
 
“Ground to air missile.  Any sooner, that would have been us.  Try and sit back, rest, and enjoy the in-flight service.  Oh, and a prayer or two might help.”

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

It continued in London – Episode 24

What’s the Opera got to do with it?

…

I had hoped never to see Rodby again, and yet here I was in that oppressively warm wood polish-smelling office of his, sitting uncomfortably opposite him, a very large and clear desk between us.

In all the time I’d known him, and those visits to his office, there had never been anything on it.  Not even a phone.

The last time I was in this position, to inform him of my retirement, I’d been reluctant to put the resignation envelope on the pristine surface.

Significantly, it was a month to the day after I left Larry’s mother’s house in Sorrento.

The day after I went with Cecilia to her audition, and she smashed it, getting the role from a rather astonished casting director, and director.  He was calling it a possible break-out performance, in a whole different language that I didn’t understand.

That same night I found Juliet dining alone in the hotel restaurant and told her the good news, but her brother had already called her.  We had dinner, and it could have been more, but there was that Cecilia thing in the back of her mind so we parted as friends.

And at a loose end, Venice no longer hold any significance for me, I moved back to London.

I should have gone to Paris.  There, it would have been harder for Alfie to find me.

He had been giving me the ‘come back’ look, one that I had taken a long time to learn how to ignore.

Seeing he wasn’t making any impact, he said, “They found Larry.”

An enigmatic statement.  Who found Larry?

“The Italian police recovered the body, in a little-used area of Lake Como.  No signs of physical damage, not shot or stabbed, but apparently, he died of natural causes.  We’re still waiting for a definitive coroner’s report.  You never really elaborated on what happened at his mother’s house.”

My report was short and lacked detail, more notable for what I didn’t say rather than what I did.

“Nothing to tell.  Brenda just told him his days of running the organization were over, she and Jaime Meyers had collaboratively taken over, and things would be different.  I notice several other hard-line criminals have been taken off the streets since, so Inspector Crowley’s arrangement with her is working.  A win-win situation.  And you don’t have to deal with Larry anymore.”

“That’s the problem.  If something is too good to be true, it generally is. I have to wonder what has replaced him.”

“I’m retired sir.  No longer interested.  Why am I here?”

I could see he had more, possibly to pique my interest, but just shrugged.

“Nothing of any importance.  I thought you might want to know what happened to Larry.  And Martha wants me to go to the opera tonight and she specifically asked me to ask you, and as you know she does not take no for an answer.”

I shrugged.  He was right about his wife, a force of nature to be reckoned with.  I had met her several times, and she had been intrigued with Violetta and had been devastated when she learned of her death.

“Then I guess I’d better dust off the monkey suit.”

“Good.  I’ll text you where and when and send a driver to pick you up.”

© Charles Heath 2022