The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the Past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The Birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus, the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all rewrites, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally, it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself.  We were there for New Year’s, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening, we were out late and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow; it was cold and wet, and apartment buildings were shimmering in the street light, and I thought, “This is the place where my main character will live”.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected.  I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went, so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller Centre is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy man with few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble.  No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

…

Get it here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

newechocover5rs

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 171/172

Days 171 and 172 – Writing Exercise

Nighttime under the trees in that part of the forest was as dark as …..

…

The most interesting fact about the forest was that if you took all the necessary precautions, you would be safe.

One precaution: never travel alone.

Another precaution, take the weapon you are more comfortable with.

And another, don’t go on foot, take a horse.

These basic tenets were drilled into us from an early age because, as beautiful and wondrous the forest was, it was still a dangerous place.

There were more than tenets that were applicable, like if your stay was going to be longer, or if you might not get back home in time, involving food and water.

That, of course, was mostly taken care of by learning forest craft, the recognition of dangerous versus harmless animals, which could be used for food.  Recognising the trees and plants, those that could be eaten, those used for healing, and those to be left alone.

It was basic education for boys, and recently, when our king remarried after the first queen had died suddenly, it was extended to girls.

The new Queen had made it abundantly clear that girls would be afforded a number of privileges that boys were given.

These included skills such as swordmanship, using a bow and arrow, riding a horse, which only a few had access to, and participating in some less demanding tournament games.

But they could not become knights. 

The King had been reluctant to introduce such measures, and wasn’t particularly in favour of it.  Nor were the older citizens who had lived a different life and didn’t see the need for change.

That reluctance flowed down to the noblemen, the people who oversaw the King’s business in the provinces, so those changes were slow, if at all, to be implemented.

As for the boys themselves, they did not believe that girls were as strong or as smart as they were, and completely ignored any girls who tried to join their ranks.

I had no desire to be in the King’s army, nor did I know any girls who wanted to be either.  It seemed to me they just wanted to have the idea they could challenge us, not take over, but I couldn’t convince my friends.

Perhaps they just wanted something to grumble about.

…

In our household, there was my sister Elizabeth, who had no intention of doing any boy’s work, and who was what most would call a fair maiden, my brother John, who had joined the King’s army, and me, James, old enough to get a position working as a gamekeeper’s assistant, as well as other duties, in the the King’s service.

We maintained the deer herds, the pheasants and other birds, the lakes for fishing and ducks, and a host of other animals.  It also involved crops, all for the King’s table, and the castle marketplace for the people to buy.

Working in concert with the army, we kept the King’s domain free from trespassers from within and from other kingdoms.  Poachers were a regular problem.

We also maintained the King’s smaller castles scattered about the kingdom, just in case he wanted a change of scenery, or he was having a hunt with the nobles, or royals from other kingdoms.

The next trek, to the other side of the mountain, was soon, and he was taking the whole family.  No one wanted the job if they could avoid it because there was nowhere to hide.  I volunteered.  That part of the kingdom was the most picturesque.

And I knew that Rosalie, the maiden I had struck up a friendship with, was going with Princess Margaret as her handmaid, a huge promotion, and not undeserved.  She worked hard and understood that nothing came easy.

I was fully aware of why no one else wanted to travel with the Royal party; the King was a good and fair man, but his Queen and her children did not treat the servants with any respect. 

Out on parade the were model citizens; in private, they treated everyone with contempt.  I guess that was one of the privileges of being a royal, but to me, it seemed things would go better if they treated the people, especially those who worked for them, with a little respect.

I had learned to just shut them out, do as I was told, no matter how incomprehensible it was, and never engage with them, unless they spoke to me first.  Silence, I learned, was the only thing they understood.

…

John was home for a few days helping out his parents.  My father was a blacksmith and had hoped John would follow him.  It was good, honest work, but hard.  John thought being in the Army was better.

After all, there had been no battles forever, and it was not like war would be declared any time soon. Father thought he was lazy, and they argued from time to time.

My father had no such ambitions for me and was glad I joined the gamekeepers, perhaps thinking there would be some meat for dinner on occasion.  I got a rabbit or two from time to time, but that was about it.

I was not going to take a pheasant or a duck.  My job was more important.  Aside from the fact that the King treated people who worked for him and were caught thieving very harshly.  I’d seen the result of one or two who thought they could get away with it.

With the King going away, John had deliberately kept a low profile to avoid being conscripted into guard duty and travelling with the royal party.

Being in the advance party, I would be going a few days ahead of the Royal departure to help get everything ready.

My job would be to help stock the food store.

“So, have you told fair Rosalie that you’re going?”

He had caught us stealing a moment and now liked to tease me about how she was too good for her parents, and I would never allow the match.

Mother thought I had an excellent chance.  She worked in the castle kitchen as one of the cooks and had frequent contact with all the upstairs servants.  She liked Rosalie and was surprised that she didn’t take any of the princesses’ nonsense.

She was likely the only one.

Most of the servants avoided the Princess and often refused to work with her, despite the punishment.  It was better than being berated by her simply because she was in a bad mood.

“She was not all that interested, because she doesn’t expect we will have much time to be together.  I’ll be out in the forest and fields, and she will be inside tending her mistress.”

He shook his head.  “You are going to have to make your feelings known.  Besides, it’s not a woman’s place to be working long after coming of age.”

“I can’t see why she can’t do that and be married and a mother “

“You try telling that to the Princess.  Or the King.  You’d be better off chasing after a farming girl.  They don’t aspire to be something they’re not.”

She had treated him with deference, as befitting a lady’s personal handmaid, inheriting some of the family aloofness, and it annoyed him.  He had said she was no better than us, putting on airs and graces, but I disagreed.

“Perhaps I will.”

“And perhaps they’ll throw you in the dungeons for being impertinent. Mind your tongue around them.  I don’t want to plead to get you out of jail.  Now, be off with you, or you’ll be late.”

I grabbed the sack I had my travelling gear in and said my usual goodbyes and headed towards the castle on my horse.  I was lucky to get one of the best in the stable.  He wasn’t the biggest, but he was strong and had a good nature.

I was going to treat this like an adventure rather than a chore.

…

The carriages and drays were lined up outside the rear entrance to the castle, the carriages taking the servants and the drays, everything the Royals would need for their stay.

All were just about packed and ready to go.  I hitched my horse with the others and went over to the head gamekeepers who were organising their drays. 

The whole courtyard was organised chaos.

Just as I approached him, a Royal Carriage was slowly picking a path through the crowd, going to the front of the wagons.

“What’s with the Royal Carriage?  It’s a bit late for repairs,” I said.

“Good news.”  He said it in a way that I knew it was anything but good news.

“The Princess has decided to go with the advance party.  We are supposed to be leaving in an hour, that’s not going to happen.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Keep out of the Sergeant-at-Arms ‘ way.  He has to completely rearrange the guard and is on the warpath.”

He was my brother’s immediate superior and was a hard man to please.  He was about keeping his men alert and well-trained with physical exercise and war games.  He would call those not up to the mark, and John had just avoided being thrown out, a disgrace his father would not take lightly.

Eldest sons always had greater expectations on their shoulders.

I could hear the Sergeant up ahead getting his troops into the front and rear platoons.

I went up the stairs into the foyer, where there were cases, boxes and trunks everywhere and about 20 servants, almost running hither and thither.

Rosalie was nowhere to be seen, which I took to mean she was getting ready to accompany her mistress, probably with very little time to organise.

As I turned to leave, she came down the staircase from the princess’s quarters, in a fluster.  I hadn’t seen her in anything other than completely calm.

“James,” she said, loud enough for me to hear.

I turned.  “Rosalie.  I hear you’re coming with us.”

She came over, breathless from rushing about.  “Last minute.  Everything’s a little chaotic.  I’m supposed to be riding with her.  She’s not going to start out in the carriage.  She might ask you to ride with us, to tell her about the lands.  I don’t know why she would want to know.  Just be aware.  I have to go.”

So much for staying out of the way of the Sergeant at Arms.

…

Instead of starting out at first light, it was the middle of the morning.  Luckily, the cold weather was on its way out, and the warmer, sunny days were about to grace the Kingdom.

It was that part of the year when it was not too cold and not too hot, when everything was about to grow again after the winter.

All around, there were new buds on the trees, and flowers started to come out, releasing their fragrances.  Animals were coming out of hibernation and could be heard foraging for food.

Leaving this late meant we would have to break the journey in the forest, a consideration that would not have mattered except now the Princess was coming with us, provision had to be made for her overnight comfort.

The rest of us would be sleeping out in the open, not a problem for the gamekeepers; we were used to sleeping tough, but the servants at least had soft beds to sleep on.  It was going to be an interesting evening.

The procession had formed up, the soldiers at the front ready, the princess’s carriage next, five carriages for the servants, the gamekeepers, and those who wished to ride on a horse,  then fifteen drays with everything else, followed by the rear soldiers.

Everything was ready to go when there was sudden movement at the first carriage, then the Sergeant and the princess came down the procession and stopped where the gamekeepers were waiting.

“James,” the Sergeant’s voice carried an element of annoyance.

I moved out of my position, in the middle row, to stand in front of him.  “Sir.”

“Up the front.  The Princess would like your presence beside her.”

Nothing was said.  He turned and rode off.  I joined the Princess and followed him.

“There are more qualified gamekeepers who can attend to your requirements, your majesty.”

She looked sideways at me.  “I know, but you are the one I requested.”

This, of course, was going to make my life hell.  Riley, the head gamekeeper, was the one who should be up there with her, not me.

We returned to her position in the procession, in front of the carriage.  Rosalie was there on her horse, sitting confidently.  It was a surprise to discover she was a very good horsewoman, perhaps cementing her position as the Princess went for a ride most mornings.

I was on one side and Rosalie on the other, with four guardsmen as her personal escort.

The sergeant at the head of the procession gave the order, and we were off.

…

The princess was more interested in the life of her handmaiden and the man she had obviously mentioned in discussions they had, rather than ask me about land and animal matters.

Instead, she asked about my family and what I found so interesting about being a gamekeeper.  It whiled away the time as we travelled along the winding road, heading through farm land, forests and Plains, stopping briefly for lunch and resting the horses, then heading towards the mountain pass.

Part of the way was alongside the largest lake in the Kingdom, named after the King’s forebears, and stopped briefly so she could see the old summer castle on the far side, now in ruins, and accessible only by boat.

Given what I knew about the Princess, her behaviour and attitude were completely at odds with what I was led to believe.  Of course, it was the first time I had been this close or talked to her, or any of them.

We had begun the steady climb up to the pass.  Not far from it we would break before it got too dark, so the Royal tent could be raised. 

The Princess requested we go hunting to see if she could bring back dinner.  I did say that perhaps it was best left to the gamekeepers, but she said she had learned how to use a bow and arrow and shooting arrows into a round target was no incentive to improve or give her satisfaction.

She wanted to hit a moving target.

I went to get the head gamekeeper, and she stopped me.  She was tired of getting experts, rather than ordinary people, who treated her with disdain, unlike the Prince, her brother.

She was right; the head gamekeeper wouldn’t chastise her, but he made it clear he didn’t like being dismissed or disrespected.

More trouble with my bosses when we got back home then.  The Princess would soon lose interest, and I would be tossed on the scrap heap.

And much to the Sergeant’s dismay, when she told him her request and the conditions, we went hunting.  The Princess, I, and two soldiers.  If she had her way, the two soldiers would have been omitted.  She told them to keep their distance.

I’d been to the resting place recently and familiarised myself with the tracks, some of which looked like they had been used recently, and with the rock pool that was about 10 minutes ride from the main track as part of the annual review.

I was hoping the animals would come to the pool to drink at sunset, making it easy for her.

…

There were facets to the Princess that were, at least from my perspective, surprising.

The first, she had worn the sort of clothing I’d expect her brother would.  She had not worn a dress, which was normal for the Royals when travelling.

In them, from almost any angle, she could be mistaken for her brother, except for the long golden hair.  For the hunt, she had tucked it up into a plain cap.

The second, she had excellent horsemanship skills, and I guessed it was because she liked to get out of the castle.  It was another plus for Rosalie because, as she said, she could ride a horse before she could walk.  She always went riding with her mistress, rain, hail, snow or sleeting.

The third is her wanting to be able to use a bow and arrow.  By all accounts, meaning tavern talk, she was lazy and indolent, and wandered the castle and grounds looking for fault.

The girl sitting next to me on her horse, just short of the water hole, was anything but that person.  Perhaps, in this setting, she was acting differently, but I got the impression that she had relaxed into a different version.

Perhaps getting away from the stifling role she had in court, her duties, perceived or otherwise, she didn’t have to be that person.

“Why are we sitting here?”  Impatient and noisy.

“I’m listening,” I whispered.

“For what?” The horse was picking up her impatience and moved.

“Waiting to hear if any animals are nearby.  It’s a waiting game where patience and silence will be rewarded.”

A grace sideways told me that wasn’t in her playbook.

She patted the horse’s neck and whispered something in its ear, probably an insult for me.

I motioned her to move with me slowly and prepare to shoot.  Hopefully, she would realise that her window of opportunity would be very short.

We were 20 paces from the pool edge with a clear view of the front and side for a few yards.  The thicket came almost up to the rocky edge.

Then suddenly, a fawn came out of the thicket, and she shot her arrow.  A hit.  It went down.

She shrieked in delight.  The two cards thought she was in trouble and came racing up to us.  The shriek also served to scare everything else nearby away.

“Just in time,” she said to them.  “Bring it back to the camp.” Then to me, “Thank you.  I will be more patient and quieter next time.”

I was hoping there wouldn’t be a next time.  I was also hoping that we didn’t meet the foal’s mother on the way back to camp.

…

Nighttime under the trees in that part of the forest was as dark as the castle cellar without torchlight, though infinitely more scary for those not used to being out in the open.

Tent or no tent.

The guards were grumbling; there were no warm places like there had been back at the castle, and they had to suffer the cold night and the endless sounds around them.

There was little difference between a large deer and a man, though the man might be a lot quieter. 

I got to spend the meal time with Rosalie, where we all got to share the venison, appreciating that we had one of the cooks who knew how to prepare the meat, with bread brought from the castle stores.

It was a treat for everyone, most of whom did not get to have meat, except from a large pot.  There was also ale for the men on guard duty. I spent time doing a circuit of the camp, through the thicket and part of the forest.

We were carrying torches and making noise as a means of scaring off animals and men if there were any out.  It must have worked because we didn’t encounter any on our patrol.

The next morning, after some bread and a short period of exercise to get the men into shape, we packed up and continued.

The Princess, the Sargent said, was impressed with me, so I got to ride with her again.  The track over the mountain pass was as incredibly breathtaking as ever, the view going all the way to the castle, surrounded by manicured lawns and gardens and the bordering lake not far away.

It was the most picturesque of all the residences and a fitting place for a quiet stay.

It was also the place for hunting and fishing, and on the way back to camp, the Princess, very excited from the kill, said she was going after a wild boar next, to prove to her brother that she was made of stronger stuff.

I couldn’t see how that could end well.  They were very big, very heavy and didn’t die when you wanted them to.  I’d seen what they could do in the rampage and was going to have to talk her out of it.

Thank goodness, then her brother, the Prince, was waiting for us when we arrived.  She had assumed she was going to be in charge, but her father perhaps had an inkling as to her motives.

We were going to be caught in the middle of a battle between the siblings.

…

©  Charles Heath  2026

What I learned about writing – There’s always a reason to learn more

The Unending Classroom: Why Even Experts Never Stop Learning

You’ve done it. You’ve reached that career pinnacle, published that book, mastered a skill, or achieved a long-sought goal. You’re an expert, an authority, a “somebody.” The world might even be looking to you for answers. It’s a fantastic feeling, a testament to hard work, talent, and dedication.

But then what?

The common wisdom often implies that once you’ve “arrived,” the hard part is over. The learning, surely, is mostly done. You’ve earned the right to simply be the expert.

Here’s the radical truth: No matter how accomplished you are – whether you’re a published author with a string of bestsellers or a seasoned professional at the top of your field – there is always, always, always a reason to learn more.

This isn’t just about staying relevant in a rapidly changing world (though that’s certainly part of it). It’s about something far more profound.

The World Doesn’t Stand Still (And Neither Should You)

Think about it. Technology evolves at warp speed. New research constantly reshapes our understanding of everything from psychology to physics. Industries pivot, methodologies are refined, and cultural landscapes shift. The “best practice” of yesterday might be obsolete tomorrow.

For a published author, this could mean learning about new marketing channels, experimenting with different narrative structures, or even delving into the latest scientific discoveries to add depth to their next fictional world. For a CEO, it might be understanding emerging leadership theories, mastering a new data analytics tool, or exploring the intricacies of global economies. Stagnation, even for a moment, means falling behind.

The Humility of True Mastery

Paradoxically, the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don’t know. This isn’t disheartening; it’s liberating. True masters often possess a deep sense of humility, recognizing that their expertise is merely a lighthouse in an infinite ocean of knowledge.

This humility fuels curiosity. It allows open-mindedness to new ideas, even those that challenge deeply held beliefs. It prevents intellectual arrogance and the dangerous assumption that you have all the answers. The most accomplished individuals are often the most ardent students, perpetually seeking to refine their craft, broaden their understanding, and test their own assumptions.

Fueling Creativity and Innovation

Learning isn’t just about accumulating facts; it’s about making new connections. When you expose yourself to diverse fields, new theories, or different cultural perspectives, you create fertile ground for innovation. A solution to a problem in your industry might come from an insight gained from studying ancient philosophy, quantum mechanics, or even a completely unrelated hobby.

Think of an acclaimed artist who studies engineering, or a top chef who delves into the science of fermentation. This cross-pollination of ideas is where true breakthroughs happen, allowing you to approach challenges with fresh eyes and discover novel solutions.

The Sheer Joy of Growth

Beyond all the practical benefits, there’s a simple, undeniable joy in learning. It keeps your mind sharp, your spirit engaged, and your life enriched. It’s about personal growth, challenging yourself, and experiencing the thrill of mastering something new – even if it’s just a tiny piece of a vast puzzle.

That feeling you had when you first accomplished something significant? You can tap into that feeling again and again, simply by choosing to remain a student.

So, What’s Your Next Lesson?

No matter where you are on your journey, take a moment to consider:

  • What’s one thing you’re genuinely curious about, even if it seems unrelated to your primary expertise?
  • What new skill could enhance your current capabilities, even slightly?
  • Whose perspective could you seek out to challenge your own understanding?

Pick up that book, enrol in that course, listen to that podcast, or engage in that conversation. Embrace the unending classroom. Because the most profound accomplishment isn’t just reaching a destination; it’s recognising that the journey of learning never truly ends, and that’s precisely where the magic happens.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – My second story 24

More about my second novel

…

It’s the final battle.

Never trust anyone else to do the job you should have done yourself in the first place.

It’s an interesting premise, but somehow encapsulates the ethos of this story.

Who is Romanov?  Zoe, Irina, whatever you want to call her, he’s her father.

But…

The notion that anonymously putting out a finder’s fee on his daughter’s head, coupled with the ire of Olga over the death of her son, sent everyone from the Minister in the Kremlin down into a tailspin.

The first effort, had the kidnappers just followed the rules, would have got an enormous payday, and everything would have been resolved there and then, in Marseilles.

No, people got greedy.

So did all the others, getting wind of what was at stake, enough to retire, or continue to retire in style.

Dominica, Yuri, and even Olga had she been smart.

She was not.

People didn’t have to die.  Zoe could have been spared a killing spree, and John, maybe some quality time with Olga.  It’s a mistake Olga won’t make again.

And John, now with a father-in-law, well, it’s just another surprise in a long list of surprises.

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – My second story 24

More about my second novel

…

It’s the final battle.

Never trust anyone else to do the job you should have done yourself in the first place.

It’s an interesting premise, but somehow encapsulates the ethos of this story.

Who is Romanov?  Zoe, Irina, whatever you want to call her, he’s her father.

But…

The notion that anonymously putting out a finder’s fee on his daughter’s head, coupled with the ire of Olga over the death of her son, sent everyone from the Minister in the Kremlin down into a tailspin.

The first effort, had the kidnappers just followed the rules, would have got an enormous payday, and everything would have been resolved there and then, in Marseilles.

No, people got greedy.

So did all the others, getting wind of what was at stake, enough to retire, or continue to retire in style.

Dominica, Yuri, and even Olga had she been smart.

She was not.

People didn’t have to die.  Zoe could have been spared a killing spree, and John, maybe some quality time with Olga.  It’s a mistake Olga won’t make again.

And John, now with a father-in-law, well, it’s just another surprise in a long list of surprises.

…

What I learned about writing – I don’t want to retire – just yet!

Not Done Yet: Why I Won’t Put the Pen Down (Unless You Pry It Loose)

There are moments in life that hit you like a carefully aimed brick. The day you realise you’re paying full price for admission instead of the student rate. The first time a colleague suggests you mentor them because they “remember reading your work when they were in college.”

But nothing compares to the quiet horror of the Mirror Shock.

You wake up, perhaps a little stiffly, wander into the bathroom, and catch a truly unguarded reflection. And there it is: concrete evidence that the passage of time is not just an abstract concept discussed by philosophers—it’s etched onto your face. Suddenly, you realise old age hasn’t approached politely; it has just snuck up on you, giggling maniacally from the periphery.

And with that physical realisation comes the societal whisper, amplified by well-meaning friends and persistent internal voices: The notion of putting the pen away, hanging up the computer, finally taking a step back has come.

It’s time to retire.

And yet, for some of us, that suggestion feels less like liberation and more like an existential threat.


The Conflict: Passion vs. The Sabbatical Police

Retirement, in its classic definition, is a beautiful idea: the well-deserved pause. Years of hard work traded for limitless travel, afternoon naps, and the blissful freedom from deadlines.

For most folks, the idea of having their primary tool—a calculator, a hammer, a briefcase—confiscated sounds glorious.

But for those of us whose professional lives are intrinsically tied to creation, communication, and connectivity—the writers, the consultants, the artists, the lifelong learners—the pen and the keyboard aren’t just tools. They are conduits. They are how we process the world, how we contribute, and often, who we fundamentally are.

When the world suggests you stop doing the thing that makes you you, the reaction isn’t gratitude; it’s cognitive dissonance.

The mirror may be showing a few new wrinkles, but the internal drive—the wellspring of ideas, the need to connect dots, the urge to capture a thought before it vanishes—is still running at high speed. The engine hasn’t sputtered; it’s just settled into a low, rumbling idle.

The Heresy of the Hard Stop

The assumption that everyone must pivot from 100 mph to 0 mph on their 65th birthday is an outdated construct of a mid-20th-century economy. When work involved significant physical strain or rote, repetitive tasks, the need for a hard break was undeniable.

But in the creative, intellectual, and digital spheres, the opposite is often true. Our knowledge, our networks, and our insight are compounding assets that only increase with time.

Why, then, should we stop when we are finally reaching the peak of our observational powers?

If your professional life has been one long, passionate conversation with the world, cutting off the microphone simply because the calendar dictates it feels absurd. It’s like telling a seasoned musician to stop writing songs because their hair is greying.

For those of us who feel this way, the concept of retirement is not an ending; it’s a necessary (and perhaps slightly aggressive) re-negotiation.


My Mantra: Cold, Dead Hands and the Keyboard

If you are facing the societal pressure to step away, and feel an absolute, visceral refusal blooming in your chest, congratulations—you are likely one of the few who understands the true meaning of the rebellious mantra:

The computer/pen has to be confiscated out of my cold, dead hands.

This isn’t stubbornness; it’s the ultimate expression of professional identity. It’s the declaration that my purpose is not dependent on my age, but on my ability to contribute.

If you share this fierce dedication, the answer isn’t to quit. The answer is to adapt the way you work, without surrendering the work itself.

How to Defy Retirement Without Burning Out

If you’ve decided you’re not hanging up your boots, you need a strategy to prove that your value increases with age, proving that the Mirror Shock was an alarm clock, not a finish line.

1. Shift from Production to Curation

You don’t need to write five articles a week, but you can distil a lifetime of experience into one powerful annual essay or a keynote speech. Instead of being the primary producer, become the ultimate curator, mentor, and editor. Your job moves from generating volume to providing invaluable context.

2. Embrace the Scalpel, Ditch the Sledgehammer

Scale back without cutting off. If your schedule was fifty hours, trim it to twenty of the most impactful hours. Eliminate the administrative drudgery and focus solely on the projects that truly engage your intellect and creativity. Preserve your energy for the soul work.

3. Redefine “Success”

Success is no longer measured in promotions or quarterly earnings. It’s measured in impact, legacy, and genuine enjoyment. If a project stops being fun, drop it. Your experience has earned you the right to be highly selective.

4. The Laptop is the Travel Companion

One of the great promises of retirement is travel. Why separate the two? If your work is digital, your office is portable. The pen doesn’t need to be put away; it simply needs a passport. Continue writing, designing, or consulting from places that inspire you.


The Final Word

The sudden realisation of age is a profound moment. It forces you to confront mortality, but more importantly, it forces you to confront the passion that still burns within.

They say you spend your lifetime building a career so you can eventually stop. But for the dedicated writer, creator, or thinker, the career is the life. We don’t want to stop doing it; we just want the freedom to keep doing it better, smarter, and with fewer corporate meetings.

I’ve looked in the mirror, acknowledged the lines, and heard the societal call to step aside. But the pen is still in my hand, the laptop is still charged, and there are far too many thoughts left unwritten.

Tell the Sabbatical Police they’ll need to bring heavy equipment. Because until the very end, this keyboard is mine.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 170

Day 170 – Cliches and being descriptive

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Beyond the Overused: How to Breathe New Life into Your Descriptive Writing

We’ve all been there. You’re deep into a draft, the prose is flowing, and suddenly, your brain hits a wall. You need a phrase to describe something permanent, a moment of hesitation, or a sense of spotless purity.

Your fingers type out: carved in stone, test the water, pure as the driven snow.

Stop. Take your hands off the keyboard.

Clichés are the comfort food of writing—easy to digest, familiar, and everywhere. But they are also the fastest way to turn your reader’s brain to static. When we use a cliché, we aren’t describing a specific vision; we’re using a shorthand that has lost all its impact through sheer repetition.

If you want your writing to stand out, you have to do the hard work of observation. Here is how to swap those tired metaphors for something that actually sticks.

1. Ditch “Carved in Stone” (Focus on the Stakes)

Instead of telling us a decision is permanent, show us the weight of it.

  • The Problem: “Our agreement was carved in stone.”
  • The Fix: Focus on the consequence. “The contract sat on the desk, a heavy, irreversible anchor that would drag us into the next decade.” or “We had burnt the bridge; there was no walking back to the shore we’d left.”

2. Swap “Test the Water” (Focus on the Sensation)

“Testing the water” is a passive, vague way to describe hesitation. Get specific about the anxiety or the risk involved.

  • The Problem: “Before committing, he wanted to test the water.”
  • The Fix: Focus on the physical feeling of uncertainty. “He circled the perimeter of the room, gauging the temperature of the conversation before offering his own.” or “He stood at the edge of the decision, toeing the line, waiting for the first sign of cracking ice.”

3. Retire “Pure as the Driven Snow” (Focus on the Texture)

Clichés about purity are often lazy because they rely on abstraction. Instead, describe the quality of the image using sensory details.

  • The Problem: “She was as pure as the driven snow.”
  • The Fix: Think about how the object is clean. Is it sterile? Bright? Unblemished? “Her conscience was a blank, uninked page.” or “The kitchen was so immaculate it felt surgical; even the dust seemed afraid to settle there.”

The “Senses & Specificity” Strategy

If you find yourself reaching for a cliché, ask yourself these three questions:

  1. What does it look like? Don’t just say a room is “as quiet as a mouse.” Describe the sound of the quiet—is it a heavy silence, a buzzing, vibrating silence, or a thin, sharp silence?
  2. What is the stakes-based emotion? If someone is “cool as a cucumber,” why are they cool? Is it because they are practised, dismissive, or genuinely detached? Use a verb that describes that specific emotion.
  3. Can I use a “wrong” metaphor? Sometimes, the best way to avoid a cliché is to pair two things that don’t usually go together. Instead of “hard as a rock,” maybe it’s “as stubborn as a rusted bolt” or “as impenetrable as a vault of secrets.”

The Golden Rule: The First Choice is Almost Always the Worst Choice

When your brain offers you a cliché, acknowledge it, throw it in the trash, and force yourself to write three alternatives. They don’t even have to be good ones—just different ones. In that process of straining for a new image, you’ll eventually stumble upon something that feels fresh, sharp, and uniquely yours.

Your readers don’t want the same old metaphors they’ve heard a thousand times. Give them something they can see, hear, and feel for the very first time.

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 170

Day 170 – Cliches and being descriptive

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Beyond the Overused: How to Breathe New Life into Your Descriptive Writing

We’ve all been there. You’re deep into a draft, the prose is flowing, and suddenly, your brain hits a wall. You need a phrase to describe something permanent, a moment of hesitation, or a sense of spotless purity.

Your fingers type out: carved in stone, test the water, pure as the driven snow.

Stop. Take your hands off the keyboard.

Clichés are the comfort food of writing—easy to digest, familiar, and everywhere. But they are also the fastest way to turn your reader’s brain to static. When we use a cliché, we aren’t describing a specific vision; we’re using a shorthand that has lost all its impact through sheer repetition.

If you want your writing to stand out, you have to do the hard work of observation. Here is how to swap those tired metaphors for something that actually sticks.

1. Ditch “Carved in Stone” (Focus on the Stakes)

Instead of telling us a decision is permanent, show us the weight of it.

  • The Problem: “Our agreement was carved in stone.”
  • The Fix: Focus on the consequence. “The contract sat on the desk, a heavy, irreversible anchor that would drag us into the next decade.” or “We had burnt the bridge; there was no walking back to the shore we’d left.”

2. Swap “Test the Water” (Focus on the Sensation)

“Testing the water” is a passive, vague way to describe hesitation. Get specific about the anxiety or the risk involved.

  • The Problem: “Before committing, he wanted to test the water.”
  • The Fix: Focus on the physical feeling of uncertainty. “He circled the perimeter of the room, gauging the temperature of the conversation before offering his own.” or “He stood at the edge of the decision, toeing the line, waiting for the first sign of cracking ice.”

3. Retire “Pure as the Driven Snow” (Focus on the Texture)

Clichés about purity are often lazy because they rely on abstraction. Instead, describe the quality of the image using sensory details.

  • The Problem: “She was as pure as the driven snow.”
  • The Fix: Think about how the object is clean. Is it sterile? Bright? Unblemished? “Her conscience was a blank, uninked page.” or “The kitchen was so immaculate it felt surgical; even the dust seemed afraid to settle there.”

The “Senses & Specificity” Strategy

If you find yourself reaching for a cliché, ask yourself these three questions:

  1. What does it look like? Don’t just say a room is “as quiet as a mouse.” Describe the sound of the quiet—is it a heavy silence, a buzzing, vibrating silence, or a thin, sharp silence?
  2. What is the stakes-based emotion? If someone is “cool as a cucumber,” why are they cool? Is it because they are practised, dismissive, or genuinely detached? Use a verb that describes that specific emotion.
  3. Can I use a “wrong” metaphor? Sometimes, the best way to avoid a cliché is to pair two things that don’t usually go together. Instead of “hard as a rock,” maybe it’s “as stubborn as a rusted bolt” or “as impenetrable as a vault of secrets.”

The Golden Rule: The First Choice is Almost Always the Worst Choice

When your brain offers you a cliché, acknowledge it, throw it in the trash, and force yourself to write three alternatives. They don’t even have to be good ones—just different ones. In that process of straining for a new image, you’ll eventually stumble upon something that feels fresh, sharp, and uniquely yours.

Your readers don’t want the same old metaphors they’ve heard a thousand times. Give them something they can see, hear, and feel for the very first time.

…

What I learned about writing – The call of the weird…

The Call of the Weird: When an Oddball Writing Offer Knocks

As professional writers, we tend to operate within established lanes. Maybe you dominate B2B white papers, or you’re the wizard of lifestyle blogs, or perhaps your niche is technical documentation for the aerospace industry.

Then, one day, it happens.

The email arrives that makes your eyebrow twitch. It’s an offer to write something completely outside your experience—a script for a puppet show about quantum physics, a historical fiction piece told entirely from the perspective of moss, or maybe the manifesto for a highly niche, possibly fictitious, startup focused on sustainable moon mining.

This is the Oddball Offer. It’s wildly different, maybe a little intimidating, and possibly way “out there.”

The critical question immediately surfaces: What do you do? Do you politely decline and stick to what you know, or do you take the leap into the creative unknown?

Before you hit ‘archive’ or ‘accept,’ here is your professional roadmap for assessing and navigating those delightfully bizarre writing briefs.


1. Defining “Oddball”: The Initial Assessment

The first step is to categorize the offer. Not all unusual requests are equal.

A. The Niche Stretch

This type of offer is bizarre in subject matter but standard in format. (Example: Writing case studies about specialized farming equipment.) This is usually a safe bet. You apply your existing writing skill set to new content.

B. The Format Fluke

This is an offer that requires a totally new skill or output. (Example: You’re a blogger, and they want you to write a 12-act stage play.) This requires significant new learning and a pricing adjustment.

C. The Truly Out There (The “What Is This?”)

This is the offer that carries a real whiff of the bizarre, potentially involving questionable ethics, unknown legal territory, or simply a concept that seems too fringe to be real.

When you receive the email, strip away the novelty and ask yourself three key questions:

  1. Is the client legitimate? (Look up their company. Does it exist? Do they have a clear mission, even if that mission is strange?)
  2. Is the request morally or legally sound? (If the material is hateful, deceitful, or involves breaking laws, the answer is an immediate, firm “no.”)
  3. Does it require a time commitment I can afford to risk? (If it’s a massive project, the risk is higher.)

2. Addressing the Elephant: Is the Client Just Fishing for Ideas?

This is the most common fear when dealing with vague or highly creative briefs: the client wants free brainstorming, hoping you’ll deliver the “Aha!” concept they can then execute in-house or give to a cheaper writer.

If the client is vague, overly enthusiastic about “vision,” and hesitant to talk budget or milestones, this risk is high.

Strategy 1: Institute a Paid Discovery Phase

Never, under any circumstance, provide detailed concepts, outlines, or proprietary strategies for free. If the project requires heavy ideation, frame the initial engagement as a Paid Discovery Phase.

This might look like a single, fixed-rate consultation that includes:

  • A 60-minute strategy call.
  • One brief, non-transferable conceptual outline (200 words max).
  • A formal pricing structure for the full project.

If they won’t pay for the idea stage, they were almost certainly just fishing. If they balk, you’ve saved yourself hours of unpaid labour.

Strategy 2: Get an NDA Signed Immediately

If the project involves genuinely novel or proprietary concepts, protect yourself. Request a simple, standard Non-Disclosure Agreement (NDA) before you start sharing specific ideas on execution.

A serious client with a serious idea will not hesitate to sign an NDA. A client wary of intellectual property protection is likely trying to gather free resources.


3. The Professional Reckoning: Weighing the Risk vs. Reward

Assuming the offer is legitimate and you have protective measures in place, the decision comes down to the upside.

The Arguments FOR Taking the Oddball Offer

1. Portfolio Differentiation

This is perhaps the biggest win. A truly unique project provides “secret sauce” for your portfolio. If you’re trying to pivot or stand out from a crowded market, having a sample that no one else has—like a successful, funded Kickstarter campaign narrative for a wearable tech startup that monitors pigeon health—will get attention.

2. Higher Rates

Weird work often commands premium rates. Clients who need highly specialised or conceptual work know they can’t get it from a generalist. Their need is high, and your unusual ability to step up is valuable. Price the novelty, the complexity, and the risk appropriately.

3. Creative Expansion

Getting outside your comfort zone is good for your professional brain. It breaks up routine and prevents burnout. If you feel stale writing the same three types of articles, tackling the manifesto for a collective of subterranean mycologists might be the recharge you need.

The Arguments AGAINST Taking the Oddball Offer

1. Scope Creep and Ambiguity

Oddball projects, by their nature, lack standard precedents. The client may not know what they want, leading to endless revisions and a constantly shifting goalpost (Scope Creep). Before accepting, demand an ironclad Scope of Work (SOW) that clearly defines the deliverables, rounds of revision, and what “success” looks like.

2. Reputation Risk

If the project is deeply unconventional or touches on controversial elements (even if legitimate), consider if it could negatively impact your appeal to your core client base. If you primarily write for reputable financial institutions, perhaps writing the text for a speculative cryptocurrency art project might need careful consideration.

3. The Time Sink

Unique projects often require disproportionate research time. You may need to learn a new lexicon, a new industry, or a new format from scratch. Factor this extra research time into your pricing model.


4. Securing the Deal: Practical Steps for Proceeding

If you decide the reward outweighs the risk, proceed professionally and firmly:

  1. Define the SOW (Again, and in Detail): List exactly what you are writing (e.g., “5 blog posts, 800 words each, 2 rounds of revisions”). State what you are not doing (e.g., “Not responsible for graphic design or legal compliance review”).
  2. Demand a Deposit: For unique or speculative projects, a 50% upfront deposit is standard and non-negotiable. This protects you against the client disappearing after the first conceptual submission.
  3. Set Clear Boundaries: Communicate your communication style and availability clearly. Because the project is already unusual, managing expectations on process is vital.
  4. Embrace the Learning: Treat the research and concept generation as professional development. Even if the project fails, the knowledge you gain (e.g., how to format a technical comic book script) is now part of your toolkit.

Conclusion: Strategic Risk-Taking is the Writer’s Edge

The oddball offer is often not a distraction; it’s a test. It asks if you are adaptable, creatively courageous, and professional enough to manage complexity.

Don’t dismiss the weird simply because it’s unfamiliar. Instead, screen rigorously, protect your intellectual property fiercely, and if the client and concept pass the professional sniff test, take the leap.

Stepping way ‘out there’ is sometimes the only way to find your next, most lucrative, and most fascinating niche. Happy writing!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 169

Day 169 – Every character should want something

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The Simple Secret to Compelling Fiction: Give Your Characters a Glass of Water

In the world of creative writing, there is a tendency to mistake “complexity” for “grandeur.” We feel that to write a compelling story, our protagonists must be saving the galaxy, solving a decade-old murder, or undergoing a sprawling, life-altering metamorphosis.

But the late, great Kurt Vonnegut offered a piece of advice that serves as a necessary reality check for every writer, from the novice to the novelist:

“Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.”

It’s a deceptively simple rule, but it cuts to the very heart of human motivation and narrative drive. Here is why this principle is the backbone of any story worth reading.


Desire is the Engine of Story

Think about your own life. You are never truly “at rest.” Even when you are sitting on the couch, you are likely wanting something—a snack, to check your phone, to be done with work, to feel relaxed, or to be somewhere else.

If a character has no desire, they have no movement. If they have no movement, they have no agency. Without agency, the story becomes a series of things that happen to a person, rather than a sequence of choices made by a person.

Desire is the engine. Whether the goal is to conquer a kingdom or simply to reach the kitchen for a glass of water, the desire creates a trajectory.

Scale Doesn’t Equal Stakes

Vonnegut’s specific mention of “a glass of water” is brilliant because it reminds us that the scale of the goal matters less than the intensity of the need.

If a character is trapped in a desert, that glass of water is a matter of life and death. If a character is in a tense, uncomfortable social situation and needs a glass of water just to escape the conversation and compose themselves, it is a matter of psychological survival.

The reader doesn’t need the world to be ending to care about the outcome. They need to believe that the character needs what they are chasing. If the character wants it, we start to want it for them.

Defining Your Characters Through Want

What a character wants tells us everything we need to know about who they are.

  • A character who wants a promotion tells us they are ambitious.
  • A character who wants to be left alone tells us they are guarded.
  • A character who wants a glass of water in the middle of a heated argument tells us they are looking for a way to regain control or avoid confrontation.

By defining these wants, you move away from static, cardboard descriptions and toward dynamic characterisation. You show the reader their soul through their actions.

The “Glass of Water” Test

The next time you are stuck in a scene and feel the momentum stalling, ask yourself: What does my character want right now?

If your character is just standing around, waiting for the plot to happen, you need to give them a “glass of water.” Maybe they need to find their lost keys. Maybe they need to keep a secret from being revealed. Maybe they just need to say something they’ve been holding inside for years.

Once your character has a goal—no matter how small—they have a reason to move. And once they move, the reader will inevitably follow.


The Takeaway: Great fiction doesn’t always require epic quests or world-shattering stakes. It requires a human being who is striving for something. Give your characters a goal, give them an obstacle, and watch as your story begins to breathe on its own.

What is your character reaching for today? Even if it’s just a glass of water, make sure they’re thirsty.

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