Tag: Thoughts

Searching for locations: Castello di Monterinaldi, Tuscany, Italy

As part of a day tour by Very Tuscany Tours, we came to this quiet corner of Tuscany to have a look at an Italian winery, especially the Sangiovese grapes, and the Chianti produced here.

And what better way to sample the wine than to have a long leisurely lunch with matched wines.  A very, very long lunch.

But first, a wander through the gardens to hone the appetite:

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And a photo I recognize from many taken of the same building:

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Then a tour of the wine cellar:

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Then on to the most incredible and exquisite lunch and wine we have had.  It was the highlight of our stay in Tuscany.  Of course, we had our own private dining room:

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And time to study the paintings and prints on the walls while we finished with coffee and a dessert wine.

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And of course, more wine, just so we could remember the occasion.

NANOWRIMO November 2023

“Opposites Attract” – In the beginning

…

How many times have you been sitting somewhere, and in the background there’s a song playing?

The interesting thing about music is the memories and the feelings that can be invoked.

And, if you’re a writer, it can tug at the inspirational strings.

I had one such experience not so long ago in a shopping mall of all places while having some ghastly junk food.   The chef must have been having a bad day.

I digress.

It was a Viennese waltz, and you know, if you’ve heard one, how it can stick on the mind, that ebb and flow effect.  I saw an episode of Disneyland many, many years ago that had Strauss composing the waltz in time to the clip-clop of the horses drawing his carriage.  I don’t think it was as simple as that.

But however it came into being, it stuck in my mind.

So much so, that I went to YouTube and pulled up people performing the Waltz, and in watching it I because almost mesmerised.

Where’s this going, you ask?

Well, it gave me an idea.  That first idea was to write a story of two people out on the ballroom floor, having a conversation, with the dance moves thrown in a appropriate times, in essence guiding the conversation.

Boring you say?

O light be, but then make the two people a girl and a boy who have niggled and hated each other all their lives, only to discover shortly before the ball, that the opposite was true, that they loved each other.

Hate is easy when you’re a pre-teen and teenager, but once middle school turns into college, and people change, though some not necessarily for the better, odd things happen.

Now, again, if it was an ordinary girl and an ordinary boy that would almost be boring, so to spice it up the girl is from the wealthy part of town, and the boy from the less wealthy side, those that the wealthy tend to look down on.

But he’s not too down and out, just from an old well-known family that has fallen on hard times.

Oh, and like all the romance films I’ve been looking at as research, this will follow one of the tried and tested premises, that she was always in love with him, and he was always from the moment he saw her in elementary school, just never thought he had a chance.

So, strap yourselves in for the ride!

…

The cinema of my dreams – It continued in London – Episode 39

That was a surprise

…

Cecelia leaned against the door to close it.  I was about three steps in front of her.  Juliet had moved to stand behind the two women, each standing to the side and back far enough that if they were not deadly accurate, if they pulled the trigger, the bullets could go anywhere.

I put my hands out.  No point looking threatening.

“Well,” I said, “This is about as good as it gets.”

The countess looked at me.  “How so?”

“My brief.”  I nodded towards Cecelia.  “Our brief was to find you.  We’ve found you.  That’s it.  We can go back to our lives now.  You have no idea how much that pleases me.”

“And me,” Cecelia added.  “I much preferred working in Venice.  Why couldn’t you have gone to Venice, or Paris, or Athens?  It’s time to go.”  She put her hand on the door handle and started to open the door.

Vittoria was watching us the whole time, and her expression was getting more incredulous.  “Not so fast.  What are you talking about?”

“Vittoria, I presume,” I said to her.  “You might want to put the guns down.  We’re not here to hurt you, or take you away, or do anything, other than find you so I can tell my boss everything’s fine.  Well, not you exactly, but the countess.”

“How do you know I want to be found,” the countess said, a look of surprise on her face also.

“That makes things a bit difficult now that we have.  I must tell Mrs Rodby because she’s adamant something’s happened to you.”

I could hear the door close again and Cecelia took her hand off the handle.  She might be a little confused but knew well enough to run with me.  I wasn’t expecting the countess or guns.  Nor had there been any pushback from Juliet against us coming to her flat, and she had to know her mother was waiting.  Perhaps she didn’t know about the countess.

“She can be a busybody.”  The countess sighed.

I felt a vibration in my pocket, the organisation’s standard-issued cell phone, supposedly untraceable.  Supposedly.  “Just give me a second.”

I pulled it out and swiped the screen.  Alfie.  ‘Is she there?’

So much for being untraceable.  That being the case, I had the impression he could not hear anything, so we had a slight advantage, though he would be nearby, and he would know we had met up with Juliet.  I typed in, ‘Hold your horses, outside the door!!!’.  I hoped he got the inference, that barging through doors could be dangerous.

And it alerted me to a new problem.  Rodby didn’t trust me to tell him, and that meant he had been hiding something from us.

“Alfie?” Cecelia asked.

“He knows we’re here.”

“How?”

“How, exactly.”

“Damn.  You sure know how to give a girl a good time.”  She pulled out her cell phone and was about the dismantle it when she saw me shake my head.

“What is…” the countess started to say.

I put my finger up to my lips as a sign for her not to talk.

I called him.  “Something else Rodby forgot to tell me about, you becoming our shadow.”

“What can I say, Rodby knows you sometimes go off book, and this is Juliet.”

“Does he think I still have a thing for her?  After Venice?  The man has rocks in his head.  You might want to remind him the next time you speak to him that I didn’t want to go on this rabbit hunt in the first place.  My life was fine without a countess in it.”

The expressions on all three of the women’s faces were past incredulous, wondering what was going on.

“Is she there?”

“I’ll ask Cecelia, she just got back.  She thought she saw both Juliet and the countess, but it’s dark and the lighting in the building isn’t that great.  I’m in the flat now, and I’m sure the countess was here.  I remember her perfume”.

Cecelia chimed in.  “They got away.  It was the countess.  She’s fine though I don’t know why they would run from us.  What are you not telling us.”

When I didn’t hear a response, I saw that he had hung up.

The countess lowered her weapon and turned to Vittoria.  “Lower the gun.  He’s not here to cause problems.”

“You know who he is?”  She lowered the weapon but not so far that she couldn’t use it if I became a threat.  She’d been around guns which made it a curious skill for a once servant girl.

“Yes.  He escorted me to the opera.  I suspected you might be one of Rodby’s agents.”

“Ex.  He seems to think I want to do this search and rescue instead of retiring.  He’s wrong.  Retirement suits me.  Right now, I’m, missing out on salmon fishing in Scotland.  Oh, and going on a whiskey trail.   But for the moment that’s the least of our concerns.”  I looked at Juliet.  “Do you have another way out of this place?”

“What do you think. You’re not the only one who thrives on paranoia.”

“Then we needed to be gone five minutes ago.”

© Charles Heath 2023

“Betrayal” – the penultimate final draft – Day 28

I’m sure I’ve been down this road more than once, and with the same novel, but whereas the last edit, which was probably the second or third, finished up in the pile, then forgotten.

I’m doing an active update to all my works in progress, and sending them to the editor, after going through the manuscript once again, with a view to publishing.  Hopefully, before the year is out.

…

I never thought I would get to this point, where there’s almost a complete novel.

It is quite remarkable that it is possible if you decide to focus, to get a novel out in a month.

What it does tell you is that proper planning is really a necessity if you want to succeed.

But…

It’s not the be-all to end all.

I’m not going to stop flying by the seat of my pants, but it’s given me another insight into the writing process.

I’m up to the business end of the story, and it requires concentration, and, it will not be the first time I have written a page or two, gone back to reread it and made an adjustment.

I have to be careful not to be overly critical. After all, it is only the penultimate draft and I’m striving for, bur not necessarily expecting perfection.

It won’t be, but I can always hope.

“Betrayal” – the penultimate final draft – Day 27

I’m sure I’ve been down this road more than once, and with the same novel, but whereas the last edit, which was probably the second or third, finished up in the pile, then forgotten.

I’m doing an active update to all my works in progress, and sending them to the editor, after going through the manuscript once again, with a view to publishing.  Hopefully, before the year is out.

…

It’s interesting that no matter how much you outline and plan a chapter when it comes to actually putting words on paper it doesn’t quite run the way it should.

Last night I toiled over the chapter that has the first of the plot twists.

It’s been writing itself in my head, and I’ve been making notes to supplement the plan and take those notes into consideration.

But…

When I wrote it, the first time around, it didn’t seem right. You know what that’s like. It’s not the second-guessing thing, it’s not the being over-critical thing, you write it, walk away, get a coffee, or in my case, a large Scotch and soda water, and go back.

You either tell yourself it’s utterly brilliant, or at the other end of the scale, complete rubbish.

I was somewhere in between, and the cat, who was skulking nearby suddenly found himself a captive critic.

I read it out loud, he made weird faces, and, yes, I could see what was bothering me.

Three hours later, past two in the morning, it was in better shape than I was.

My 800 words on writing

Writing is one of those occupations that requires a lot of hard work for, sometimes, very little output.  We, as writers, strive to produce a certain number of words per day, or, sometimes, just a few words just to keep oiling the machine and keeping it in working order.

When this creative process stops we tend to call it writer’s block, or something else entirely.  For me it is a point where I have lost the way, and the next chapter, scene, or plot development is not clear.  Time for a shower, sleep, or a walk in the park.

Other times, the creative processes are firing on all 12 cylinders and ideas, thoughts, plot lines, and words are pouring out of you like water over a waterfall at thaw time, or in a flood.

Sorry, shouldn’t be using metaphors, bad writing.

At the moment I have finished my next novel, yes, it sounds really good, and in itself, it gives me a sense of achievement.  In another sense it fills me with dread because I have to start editing, and, more importantly, make sure the first part of the book blends with the new developments that only occurred to me later.

Sometimes I go back and add notes at the appropriate place where the story needs to be corrected, or I just sit there and fix it on the spot.

But, editing is a horrible job.  Making sure of continuity, making sure the characters names didn’t change, or they suddenly go from being short, overweight and red hair to thin, tall and blonde hair.  Making sure the English is correct, grammar correct, spelling correct, and fore’s not confused with four’s.

And not start my sentences with and or but.  Sorry, again, bad habits die hard.

I have read that it’s a good idea to let that first draft sit on the shelf for a few weeks and let the dust settle around it, ruminating on it sub-consciously.  Good idea.  It’s another excuse to put off the inevitable.

So, is it time to have a holiday, take time out from the business of writing, or catch up with all that social media stuff, tweeting, facebooking, tumblring, instagramming, or whatever it is.  Oh yes, that’s right, as an indie author I have to do my own ‘pitching’ to the reading public.

Time to plan a campaign to get my title out there, and generate some interest.

Time in fact to hit the internet and see how others have done it.

42,647,345 hits on Google.  Damn, I didn’t think there were that many writers.  I’m starting to feel very, very insignificant in the greater scheme of things.

OK, that goes in the too hard basket for the moment.  Moving on.

On those days when the creative juices were on overdrive, I fill notebooks with the ideas for stories, short and long.  When out, waiting around for doctors, and others, I have my mobile phone which has a notebook type app called SomNote which I write.  I find it is very easy to lose oneself in a story when there is so much inspiration around.

These notes are then sent via email to my computer and stored in an email directory, ready for me to look at, at a later date.

That later date has arrived.

I start looking through the ‘ideas’ list, a cavalcade of story titles,

Amnesia- the story of a man who wakes up in hospital with amnesia, and then is led to believe he is someone other than who he is.  The plot needs some work, well, a lot of work.

The Will – the story of a grandson trying to stop the greedy and selfish siblings from selling out the family heritage, I’m sure I saw a British movie about this not so long ago

Mistaken Identity – The story of a man who is an illegitimate son, and has a brother who is both an evil man and his exact doppelganger.  He was never told about it, and comes face to face with his doppelganger in extraordinary circumstances.

Strangers in the night – no not the song, but a story about two disparate people who have no time for anything but work and career, who have a chance encounter.

Breaking the rules – a story about a pair of cat burglars who run into each other, on separate heists in the same building.  This has potential.

More than three hours have passed, I’ve been reading the stories, notes, plotlines, and staring at the ceiling looking for inspiration.

Chester, our cat, my friend and confidant, always likes the last word.  He wanders into the office, climbs up on the chair and sits, selecting the pile of papers for The Will.

It will be the title of my next book

The cinema of my dreams – It continued in London – Episode 38

It was the orange ribbon

…

“It’s the orange ribbon, isn’t it,” Cecilia said.  “I thought it looked good with the yellow floral summer dress and the fake fur coat.”

I had thought Juliet was just shocked to see Cecelia again with me, that we were possibly having a relationship.  It was something else.

Cecelia looked at me.  “Alfie said Vittoria called Juliet while you were texting me, a bit like ships passing in the night, to tell her she was on her way, and this idiot woman in a fur coat and orange ribbon had almost knocked her off the sidewalk.  I mean, really, people buried in their phones should be knocked off the sidewalk.”

We both looked at Juliet.  I could see she was thinking fast on her feet, then smile at Cecelia, and say, “Wow!  What can I say?  How’s your acting career going?”

“Good actually.  I got a part as a mercenary.  Just need to do the training and figure out how I’m going to survive the Moroccan sun, I mean, with this skin?”

There were two slices of pizza.  “Do you mind,” Cecilia said, “I shouldn’t but it’s been one of those days.”

Juliet nodded.

“Now, Juliet, do you want to revise any answers?”

“Who are you really?  The two of you?”

“We find people.  Or I used to until Larry came after me, and then my boss decided I couldn’t retire, or maybe it was his wife this time.  She’s a good chum of the countess.  It seems if I found her, I can finally go back to my well-earned retirement.  So, one question, did your mother, Vittoria Romano, kidnap her?”

“No.”

No hesitation.  Interesting.

“She is up in your apartment at the moment?”

Juliet looked at Cecilia, reaching for the second slice.

“Yes.”

“How long have you known about her?”

“About three months.  She found me.  I didn’t believe it at first, but apparently, she had to wait until my adoptive mother died before she could see me in person.  It was the agreement they made.  By the way, she shared the money the count paid her for my upkeep and to go to medical school.”

“So, you are his daughter?”

“She showed me the birth certificate.  It has his name on it.  No one was ever supposed to know.”

“Until the money stopped.  Who did she go to?”

“The countess.  My mother had nothing to do with her disappearance.  You should be looking at the family, that Alessandro is a criminal, the whole family are.”

“They’re bankers,” Cecilia said.  “Is there a difference?”

“OK.  If she is not guilty of anything, then she will have no trouble talking to us?”

“I can ask?”

“No.  Not until we’re on the doorstep.  You may think she’s not guilty because she told you so, but unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury.  And you know me well enough to know that I keep an open mind about everything.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You do.  But if we let you go and we find out you’ve lied to us, then we’ll hunt you down, no matter where you are, and we will not be as nice as we are now.”  The way Cecelia said it, it sounded like she relished hunting down criminals and liars.  The words were accompanied by a very mean look.

“Can we finish dinner first?”

“Of course.  I was looking forward to having some tiramisu.”

Cecelia was in a role.  She smiled.  I was glad she wouldn’t be hunting me.

Another small pizza, tiramisu, red wine, coffee and conversation, from the outside could be construed as three friends meeting up and having a leisurely dinner and reminiscing.

Cecelia was genuinely interested in car accident victims, to help her in her auditions, and Juliet was genuinely interested in the movie business.  I was fascinated watching the two women together, wondering if Juliet thought there was something between us.

Back in Venice, that was the impression she was giving Juliet.  Here, I got the occasional glance, and a touch on the hand, the sort of touchy-feely things a girlfriend might do.  I hadn’t thought of her a lot since Venice, but she hadn’t completely disappeared.

By the time we left, most of the other customers had gone, and the staff were cleaning up.  I paid the bill and said I would be back.  Those pizzas were to die for.  We had ordered another just before leaving, to take back for her mother.

If she was there.

Cecelia had gone ahead to make sure there wasn’t an ambush waiting for us, and when we reached the door of her apartment, she was waiting in the shadows.

Juliet got out her key and opened the door, and after opening it, yelled out “I’m home.”  Then she went in, and I followed.

There were two guns pointed at me as I stepped into the room, Vittoria was pointing one at me, and the countess was pointing the other at Cecelia.

© Charles Heath 2023

“Betrayal” – the penultimate final draft – Day 27

I’m sure I’ve been down this road more than once, and with the same novel, but whereas the last edit, which was probably the second or third, finished up in the pile, then forgotten.

I’m doing an active update to all my works in progress, and sending them to the editor, after going through the manuscript once again, with a view to publishing.  Hopefully, before the year is out.

…

It’s interesting that no matter how much you outline and plan a chapter when it comes to actually putting words on paper it doesn’t quite run the way it should.

Last night I toiled over the chapter that has the first of the plot twists.

It’s been writing itself in my head, and I’ve been making notes to supplement the plan and take those notes into consideration.

But…

When I wrote it, the first time around, it didn’t seem right. You know what that’s like. It’s not the second-guessing thing, it’s not the being over-critical thing, you write it, walk away, get a coffee, or in my case, a large Scotch and soda water, and go back.

You either tell yourself it’s utterly brilliant, or at the other end of the scale, complete rubbish.

I was somewhere in between, and the cat, who was skulking nearby suddenly found himself a captive critic.

I read it out loud, he made weird faces, and, yes, I could see what was bothering me.

Three hours later, past two in the morning, it was in better shape than I was.

“Betrayal” – the penultimate final draft – Day 26

I’m sure I’ve been down this road more than once, and with the same novel, but whereas the last edit, which was probably the second or third, finished up in the pile, then forgotten.

I’m doing an active update to all my works in progress, and sending them to the editor, after going through the manuscript once again, with a view to publishing.  Hopefully, before the year is out.

…

Today went well, the book is now almost editing itself, such is the benefit of outlining.

I’m almost sold on the planning idea, but that will sort itself out next time.

The way the story is running, and the additions I have made so far, the story is going to be longer than anticipated.

I’ve just seen a glaring plot hole and will be working to fix that, and then, that opens a can of worms because the ending is now a choice of three.

This is the trouble with rereading and changing and not being satisfied and letting editors tell you what needs to be fixed when nothing really needs to be fixed in the first place.

Damn, it’s just the editing jitters kicking in.

It’s time to get back to the current project and finish it.

“Betrayal” – the penultimate final draft – Day 26

I’m sure I’ve been down this road more than once, and with the same novel, but whereas the last edit, which was probably the second or third, finished up in the pile, then forgotten.

I’m doing an active update to all my works in progress, and sending them to the editor, after going through the manuscript once again, with a view to publishing.  Hopefully, before the year is out.

…

Today went well, the book is now almost editing itself, such is the benefit of outlining.

I’m almost sold on the planning idea, but that will sort itself out next time.

The way the story is running, and the additions I have made so far, the story is going to be longer than anticipated.

I’ve just seen a glaring plot hole and will be working to fix that, and then, that opens a can of worms because the ending is now a choice of three.

This is the trouble with rereading and changing and not being satisfied and letting editors tell you what needs to be fixed when nothing really needs to be fixed in the first place.

Damn, it’s just the editing jitters kicking in.

It’s time to get back to the current project and finish it.