More about my story

…

Back to the knock on the door…

His partner, sent over by the boss as a surprise, arrives at his door, and he is shocked.  He works alone, this was not discussed and leads to a call back.

Threats are delivered; she stays.  In her own room of course.

As I’m writing these information pieces I note over the days the story repeats or changes a little.  This is because as I’m writing it, the story changes the characters, the situations, the places as I fill in the gaps, and flesh out the story, little pieces that change from my original thoughts.

I will think of something new as a question is asked, and one will be that our journalist is a feature writer and has been published in reputable newspapers.  This, of course, sets his bona fides as cover, but I added another detail: he can actually write.  If not mentioned before, he has a history with the keynote speaker.  They are inevitably going to meet, though in his role as protector, which is not supposed to happen.

What plan ever goes by the book?

In the early stages of the story, he will meet with the girl in white, the policeman, maybe he’ll run into the head of the secret police, and maybe the keynote speaker.

Then there is the leader of the rebels.

In between all of this, he had to get used to the fact he now has a shadow, and she cannot be cut out.  It’s no coincidence that she will do very nicely as a distraction, but who is it she will be distracting if not our protagonist?

More about my story

…

Back to the knock on the door…

His partner, sent over by the boss as a surprise, arrives at his door, and he is shocked.  He works alone, this was not discussed and leads to a call back.

Threats are delivered; she stays.  In her own room of course.

As I’m writing these information pieces I note over the days the story repeats or changes a little.  This is because as I’m writing it, the story changes the characters, the situations, the places as I fill in the gaps, and flesh out the story, little pieces that change from my original thoughts.

I will think of something new as a question is asked, and one will be that our journalist is a feature writer and has been published in reputable newspapers.  This, of course, sets his bona fides as cover, but I added another detail: he can actually write.  If not mentioned before, he has a history with the keynote speaker.  They are inevitably going to meet, though in his role as protector, which is not supposed to happen.

What plan ever goes by the book?

In the early stages of the story, he will meet with the girl in white, the policeman, maybe he’ll run into the head of the secret police, and maybe the keynote speaker.

Then there is the leader of the rebels.

In between all of this, he had to get used to the fact he now has a shadow, and she cannot be cut out.  It’s no coincidence that she will do very nicely as a distraction, but who is it she will be distracting if not our protagonist?

Day 80

Embedding twists and contradictions

Examples: ‘I loved her like a rabbit loves a rattlesnake’, ‘stealing a man’s wife, that’s nothing, but stealing his car, that’s larceny’, and ‘Not every man’s death is a crime’.

Come up with one of your own…

…

What’s not to say about the notion of a good contradiction? That’s the mainstay of most people I know; you think you know them, and you suddenly realise that you don’t.

And I think this works really well with the love interest in a thriller or mystery.

How do you know whether you are falling for an axe murderer or an innocent bystander?

You don’t.

So, there she is, standing on the corner of the street, under a flickering street lamp, smoking a cigarette. You’re watching the tendrils of smoke drift upwards until a burst of air blasts it away, and then the whole process starts over again.

The burning question in your mind: Will I go up to her and ask if she’s free for a drink?

She might be waiting for someone, or she might be waiting for someone like me to go up and ask her. What have you got to lose?

That voice of the devil sitting on your shoulder chimes in, perhaps she waiting for a chump like you so she can fulfill an order for a kidney, or liver.

And that face, all the innocence of Mata Hari rolled into the epitome of the girl next door.

The thing is, I’d never seen the typical girl next door to know what one looked like.

What am I looking for, a whirlwind romance, a walk in the park, or a quick and painless death?

I took two steps in her direction, determined to make the move, and stopped as a car pulled up beside her. A flick of the butt, a smile, she gets in the car and it drives off.

Oh, well, I guess I’ll be drinking on my own. Again.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Day 80

Embedding twists and contradictions

Examples: ‘I loved her like a rabbit loves a rattlesnake’, ‘stealing a man’s wife, that’s nothing, but stealing his car, that’s larceny’, and ‘Not every man’s death is a crime’.

Come up with one of your own…

…

What’s not to say about the notion of a good contradiction? That’s the mainstay of most people I know; you think you know them, and you suddenly realise that you don’t.

And I think this works really well with the love interest in a thriller or mystery.

How do you know whether you are falling for an axe murderer or an innocent bystander?

You don’t.

So, there she is, standing on the corner of the street, under a flickering street lamp, smoking a cigarette. You’re watching the tendrils of smoke drift upwards until a burst of air blasts it away, and then the whole process starts over again.

The burning question in your mind: Will I go up to her and ask if she’s free for a drink?

She might be waiting for someone, or she might be waiting for someone like me to go up and ask her. What have you got to lose?

That voice of the devil sitting on your shoulder chimes in, perhaps she waiting for a chump like you so she can fulfill an order for a kidney, or liver.

And that face, all the innocence of Mata Hari rolled into the epitome of the girl next door.

The thing is, I’d never seen the typical girl next door to know what one looked like.

What am I looking for, a whirlwind romance, a walk in the park, or a quick and painless death?

I took two steps in her direction, determined to make the move, and stopped as a car pulled up beside her. A flick of the butt, a smile, she gets in the car and it drives off.

Oh, well, I guess I’ll be drinking on my own. Again.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Day 79

What drives your writing

…

This is not a thing that pushes you every day, but there are times when something or someone will prey on your mind, and it will not be settled until you have ‘vented’.

I have to say that from time to time, the concept of venting has come over me when writing a blog piece, particularly when the folly of politicians and/or corporations is just too much. There has been a moment when a particular person has enraged me, but these people generally find themselves in a caricature.

Then there is that long-term project of the history of my family, and my brother, being the fountain of all knowledge of them, sometimes has a sit down and relates all these stories about them and after which I sit down and write as much about them as I can remember.

This I feel, is distinct from those times when I am writing a novel, apart from the incentive provided by NaNoWriMo where the race is on to get it done in 30 days. Other times, like for instance at the moment I am working on a story that is very fresh and very accessible in my mind, and therefore available to write.

I started about four days ago for a new section and have written nine new chapters in 4 days, and there is still more. While this story wants to be written, I will get it down, albeit in raw form, because it has changed a few times plot-wise since I started.

But that is me, and it is not for everyone. I often find myself writing about five or six stories at once, and yes, sometimes it can be confusing.

Day 79

What drives your writing

…

This is not a thing that pushes you every day, but there are times when something or someone will prey on your mind, and it will not be settled until you have ‘vented’.

I have to say that from time to time, the concept of venting has come over me when writing a blog piece, particularly when the folly of politicians and/or corporations is just too much. There has been a moment when a particular person has enraged me, but these people generally find themselves in a caricature.

Then there is that long-term project of the history of my family, and my brother, being the fountain of all knowledge of them, sometimes has a sit down and relates all these stories about them and after which I sit down and write as much about them as I can remember.

This I feel, is distinct from those times when I am writing a novel, apart from the incentive provided by NaNoWriMo where the race is on to get it done in 30 days. Other times, like for instance at the moment I am working on a story that is very fresh and very accessible in my mind, and therefore available to write.

I started about four days ago for a new section and have written nine new chapters in 4 days, and there is still more. While this story wants to be written, I will get it down, albeit in raw form, because it has changed a few times plot-wise since I started.

But that is me, and it is not for everyone. I often find myself writing about five or six stories at once, and yes, sometimes it can be confusing.

Day 78

Do you use a style manual

…

A “manual of style and usage” is a reference guide that provides rules and guidelines for writing and editing, covering aspects like grammar, punctuation, capitalization, spelling, and formatting, aiming for consistency and clarity.

Style guides, also known as manuals of style and usage, are essential tools for ensuring consistency and clarity in writing and design, particularly across various industries and disciplines. They provide standardized rules for grammar, punctuation, formatting, citation, and other aspects of writing, helping writers and editors maintain a consistent style and tone.

I can think of two: The Elements of Style and Style Manual for Authors, Editors, and Printers (Australia).

I have recently stumbled upon The Chicago Manual of Style, 16th Edition, which is a style guide for American English published since 1906 by the University of Chicago Press

Why are style guides important?

• Consistency: Style guides ensure that all documents within a specific organization, industry, or publication adhere to a consistent style, making them easier to read and understand.
• Clarity: By following established rules, style guides help writers avoid ambiguity and ensure that their message is clear and concise.
• Professionalism: Adhering to a style guide demonstrates professionalism and attention to detail, enhancing the credibility of the written work.
• Standardization: Style guides provide a framework for writing and design, making it easier for different people to work together on the same project.
• Facilitating Communication: They help ensure that all content produced by an organization or industry is consistent in its style, tone, and format, making it easier for the audience to understand the message. 

…

Most of the above has been derived from the internet.

Day 78

Do you use a style manual

…

A “manual of style and usage” is a reference guide that provides rules and guidelines for writing and editing, covering aspects like grammar, punctuation, capitalization, spelling, and formatting, aiming for consistency and clarity.

Style guides, also known as manuals of style and usage, are essential tools for ensuring consistency and clarity in writing and design, particularly across various industries and disciplines. They provide standardized rules for grammar, punctuation, formatting, citation, and other aspects of writing, helping writers and editors maintain a consistent style and tone.

I can think of two: The Elements of Style and Style Manual for Authors, Editors, and Printers (Australia).

I have recently stumbled upon The Chicago Manual of Style, 16th Edition, which is a style guide for American English published since 1906 by the University of Chicago Press

Why are style guides important?

• Consistency: Style guides ensure that all documents within a specific organization, industry, or publication adhere to a consistent style, making them easier to read and understand.
• Clarity: By following established rules, style guides help writers avoid ambiguity and ensure that their message is clear and concise.
• Professionalism: Adhering to a style guide demonstrates professionalism and attention to detail, enhancing the credibility of the written work.
• Standardization: Style guides provide a framework for writing and design, making it easier for different people to work together on the same project.
• Facilitating Communication: They help ensure that all content produced by an organization or industry is consistent in its style, tone, and format, making it easier for the audience to understand the message. 

…

Most of the above has been derived from the internet.

Day 77

Writing exercise

…

He had dropped off the kids. filled up the tank and finished his coffee before deciding where he was headed.

…

Ever wondered what it would be like to just do something out of the ordinary?

At what point did you realise just how much of a rut your life had fallen into?

These questions were foremost in Geoff’s mind as he sat at the bar of the diner on the edge of town, a place where he came every morning after dropping the children off at school.

Every morning except school and gazetted holidays. Without fail. Rain, hail or shine. In sickness and in health.

He sighed. When did it all go kaput? Life, marriage, work, everything.

Sybil refilled the cup with fresh coffee. “Another day, another million dollars?” Geoff had sat in that same chair every school day for the last three years, ordered the same coffee and cake, and said the same opening line and second response.

It was like talking to a robot.

“Yep. As if.”

And sipped the coffee, then said, “Excellent brew, Sybil.”

To which she replied, with the same amond of disdain, “It’s made by a machine, Geoff, it’s always going to be the same.” And moved on to the next customer, Dave, the truck driver. He needed three cups of coffee before the delivery run.

Geoff sipped the coffee, looked over the rim of the cup, and watched Hank, the short order chef throwing a burger, bacon, two eggs and tomato on the grill and watching it sizzle. Someone had ordered an overload of cholesterol.

He looked around the diner and saw the man sitting in a booth in the corner. Driving all night, he’d stopped off to refresh before continuing on his way to somewhere else, anywhere but here. Sybil was refilling his cup with the freshly brewed coffee.

Always keeping busy.

Another car pulled into the car park. A man and a woman. Smiling, happy. Of course, they were not staying here. They were moving on, going to somewhere else. Not in a rut.

Geoff knew life was a matter of choices. He made a bad choice. He thought it was the right choice, but in the end, it destroyed everything. He thought he was doing the right thing and allowed himself to be convinced it was.

In the end, the prosecutor’s case failed on a technicality, and the man he testified against was acquitted and vowed he would kill him. it was how he finished up in Grey’s Well, Montana, in the middle of nowhere, in a dead-end boring job, with a continually complaining wife and two very unhappy children.

All he had to do was get in the car and drive. North, south, east, or west, it didn’t matter. Anywhere but here. Away from the nagging and whinging. Away from the boredom of a job he hated. Even death would be better than this.

All it would take was to get off the stool, turn around, walk out the door, get in the car, and drive.

It was the same thought, every morning, after finishing that second refill.

He slid off the stool.

He turned around.

He started walking towards the door.

One step, two steps.

He stopped. To the left, there was the smiling man. To the right, there was the smiling woman. He had not seen them enter the diner and move towards where he was sitting. how could he, he had his back to the door.

He went to say hello but instead felt the knife penetrate the skin on his right side and suddenly feel very tired, and the two visitors helped him back onto his stool.

By the time he was sitting, they were leaving, and Sybil was coming back.

“Are you alright, Geoff?” She was shaking his shoulder.

He couldn’t hear her, or the sound of the car that had recently arrived speed off.

Geoff slid off the stool and was dead before he hit the floor. That was different.

Sybil screamed.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Day 77

Writing exercise

…

He had dropped off the kids. filled up the tank and finished his coffee before deciding where he was headed.

…

Ever wondered what it would be like to just do something out of the ordinary?

At what point did you realise just how much of a rut your life had fallen into?

These questions were foremost in Geoff’s mind as he sat at the bar of the diner on the edge of town, a place where he came every morning after dropping the children off at school.

Every morning except school and gazetted holidays. Without fail. Rain, hail or shine. In sickness and in health.

He sighed. When did it all go kaput? Life, marriage, work, everything.

Sybil refilled the cup with fresh coffee. “Another day, another million dollars?” Geoff had sat in that same chair every school day for the last three years, ordered the same coffee and cake, and said the same opening line and second response.

It was like talking to a robot.

“Yep. As if.”

And sipped the coffee, then said, “Excellent brew, Sybil.”

To which she replied, with the same amond of disdain, “It’s made by a machine, Geoff, it’s always going to be the same.” And moved on to the next customer, Dave, the truck driver. He needed three cups of coffee before the delivery run.

Geoff sipped the coffee, looked over the rim of the cup, and watched Hank, the short order chef throwing a burger, bacon, two eggs and tomato on the grill and watching it sizzle. Someone had ordered an overload of cholesterol.

He looked around the diner and saw the man sitting in a booth in the corner. Driving all night, he’d stopped off to refresh before continuing on his way to somewhere else, anywhere but here. Sybil was refilling his cup with the freshly brewed coffee.

Always keeping busy.

Another car pulled into the car park. A man and a woman. Smiling, happy. Of course, they were not staying here. They were moving on, going to somewhere else. Not in a rut.

Geoff knew life was a matter of choices. He made a bad choice. He thought it was the right choice, but in the end, it destroyed everything. He thought he was doing the right thing and allowed himself to be convinced it was.

In the end, the prosecutor’s case failed on a technicality, and the man he testified against was acquitted and vowed he would kill him. it was how he finished up in Grey’s Well, Montana, in the middle of nowhere, in a dead-end boring job, with a continually complaining wife and two very unhappy children.

All he had to do was get in the car and drive. North, south, east, or west, it didn’t matter. Anywhere but here. Away from the nagging and whinging. Away from the boredom of a job he hated. Even death would be better than this.

All it would take was to get off the stool, turn around, walk out the door, get in the car, and drive.

It was the same thought, every morning, after finishing that second refill.

He slid off the stool.

He turned around.

He started walking towards the door.

One step, two steps.

He stopped. To the left, there was the smiling man. To the right, there was the smiling woman. He had not seen them enter the diner and move towards where he was sitting. how could he, he had his back to the door.

He went to say hello but instead felt the knife penetrate the skin on his right side and suddenly feel very tired, and the two visitors helped him back onto his stool.

By the time he was sitting, they were leaving, and Sybil was coming back.

“Are you alright, Geoff?” She was shaking his shoulder.

He couldn’t hear her, or the sound of the car that had recently arrived speed off.

Geoff slid off the stool and was dead before he hit the floor. That was different.

Sybil screamed.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025