Tag: Thoughts

“Trouble in Store” – Short Stories My Way:  The re-write – Part 3

Now that I’ve gone through the story and made quite a few changes, it’s time to look at the story

…

Annalisa had known the moment she had agreed, or rather having been coerced to agree, to go on this foolhardy mission, it would not be the ‘piece of cake’ he said it would be.

It was the culmination of a series of events that brought her to the revelation that it was not her he loved but her money.

And the fact the ‘recreational’ use of drugs was far more serious and far more costly than she had realized.  Until her parents cut off both her access to her bank account and credit card.

Simmo had gone quite literally ‘ape shit’ when he found out, and the full extent of what was a ‘recreational use’ of drugs became clear.  In the first stages of withdrawal, he was nothing like the boy she used to know.

But, she would go along with him this once and that would be an end to it.  She funded his habit, and their relationship, though she chose not to tell him at the exact moment because he was very threatening, in fact, it was going to be the end of everything to do with him.

As they left the apartment for the last time, an eerie calm came over her, and she revered the Simmo she used to know.  There were flashes of the old Simmo from time to time, but the ever-increasing use of drugs had changed him, changed his personality, and now there was very little left.

She thought about staying, trying to bring him back, getting him to go to a rehabilitation centre, admit he had a problem.

Stepping out of the building into the cold night air brought her back to her senses.  There was no helping him, now or ever.

It was nearly time, a few minutes before the shop closed, the time, Simmo said, when the shopkeepers’ ‘other’ customers arrived.

She hoped there were no other customers.

The plan was simple.  Simmo would show the money, a twenty dollar note wrapped around a wad of blank papers, the shopkeeper would get the bag, he would give the wad, take the drugs and they’d run, hoping he wouldn’t discover the truth before escaping out the front door.

And if he did, she asked.

He had it covered.

She didn’t like the sound of that statement or the savagery with which it was delivered.  More and more this was sounding like a suicide mission.

Simmo patted her on the shoulder.  It was time.

She looked at her watch, at 11:25 pm.

From across the road, she had watched the shopkeeper going through the motions of closing the store, bringing in the sidewalk displays, wiping the counter, and sweeping the floor.  As they crossed the road, she could see him standing behind the counter, waiting, watching the clock tick inexorably towards 11:30.

Closing time.

She preceded Simmo into the shop.  His idea was that seeing her would create a distraction.  He smiled when he saw her and frowned when he saw Simmo.  He knew the moment he saw Simmo exactly what he was there for.

…

© Charles Heath 2016-2024

Writing a book in 365 days – 267

Day 267

Can banal events become edge-of-the-seat thrillers?

…

Absolutely, this is not only possible, it is the defining characteristic of some of the most successful and enduring storytelling across literature, film, and television.

This method of storytelling—taking the mundane and making it the setting for the dramatic—is known as the “Everyman” or “Fish-Out-of-Water” narrative.

The Power of the Mundane to Magnify Drama

The core effectiveness of this approach relies on two psychological factors: Relatability and Escalation.

1. The Relatability Factor (The “Everyman”)

When you start with a character grounded in the banality of everyday life, you automatically lower the barrier to entry for the reader.

  • The stakes are personal: Readers immediately connect with a character who has a recognizable job, routine, and worries (paying bills, traffic, dealing with a difficult boss). This initial familiarity creates a stronger emotional investment.
  • The trauma is amplified: When a character who is a high school chemistry teacher (like Walter White in Breaking Bad) or an ordinary suburban couple (like the protagonists in a Hitchcock thriller) is dragged into a life-or-death situation, the sense of dread and disbelief is far more intense than if the protagonist were already a spy or a police detective.

2. The Escalation Principle (The “Twist”)

The “twist” that turns the banality into chaos is almost always a single, seemingly small choice or event that then creates an irreversible spiral of consequences.

  • The Point of No Return: The character’s struggle is not against a supervillain, but against the weight of their own decisions. The conflict arises from an initial, poor choice made to protect their ordinary life (e.g., lying to a spouse, stealing a small amount of money, attempting a harmless prank).
  • The Loss of Control: The character quickly loses the ability to manage the consequences, and the problems grow exponentially—the simple lie requires a bigger lie, the small theft leads to criminal association. The reader watches their relatable life dissolve, experiencing the terror vicariously.

Examples of the Balanity Spiral

  • Literary Thrillers: Many novels, from those by Harlan Coben to Gillian Flynn (Gone Girl), start with an average person or couple whose ordinary life is shattered by a sudden disappearance or shocking revelation.
  • The Coen Brothers: Their films, like Fargo, often find dark comedy and terrifying violence when bumbling, ordinary people try to commit crimes and are overwhelmed by the reality of their actions.
  • The Suspense Genre: This entire genre is built on the idea that the threat is hiding in plain sight. It often features a non-professional protagonist—a librarian, a teacher, a banker—who stumbles upon a conspiracy and has to rely on their wits and their “boring” skills (like research or careful planning) to survive.

What I learned about writing – You need to find a place without distractions

I just spent a week away in one of our favourite places, in a cottage in the hills not far from the Gold Coast in Queensland.

The location is in a valley, at the bottom of which is a small creek.  There is nothing but farming land in every direction, and it’s a place where you can luxuriate in the silence, when not being interrupted by the sounds of wildlife and farm animals.

The serenity is simply amazing.

You can use it as a base because everything you could want is no more than two hours in any direction, but for us, there is no reason to leave the cottage.  We come for relaxation and to wind completely down, away from everything.

The good news is there’s no TV, and the internet and phone coverage are terrible at best, which means you need to find alternate ways of relaxing.

I can’t tell you how good it is not to be addicted to TV news, not to have the internet calling you via social media, and not have the phone ring once in four days.  After you get past that first day of withdrawal symptoms are nearly as bad as coming down off drugs.

Except…

This time I had a mission, to take the time to finish off one of my books. The Enchanted Horse, a story I’ve been promising my grandchildren I’d finish for the last five years.

There just never seems to be time at home with all the distractions, you know those trappings of modern life, the phone, the internet, TV.

And, the good news is I managed to review, collate and generally structure the 700 odd pages I’d already written, and comprehensively outline the last few remaining chapters so I can finally finish the first draft.

The other job that became apparent about one-third of the way through, was that the story is too big for one book, and now it is three, each instalment about 300 pages long, and it gave me the opportunity to write bridging chapters, a sort of the story so far, which will also serve as synopsis I can send to prospective publishers.

All in all, huge progress was made.

Pity I could stay for a month.  I have so much that needs doing without distraction

Writing a book in 365 days – 267

Day 267

Can banal events become edge-of-the-seat thrillers?

…

Absolutely, this is not only possible, it is the defining characteristic of some of the most successful and enduring storytelling across literature, film, and television.

This method of storytelling—taking the mundane and making it the setting for the dramatic—is known as the “Everyman” or “Fish-Out-of-Water” narrative.

The Power of the Mundane to Magnify Drama

The core effectiveness of this approach relies on two psychological factors: Relatability and Escalation.

1. The Relatability Factor (The “Everyman”)

When you start with a character grounded in the banality of everyday life, you automatically lower the barrier to entry for the reader.

  • The stakes are personal: Readers immediately connect with a character who has a recognizable job, routine, and worries (paying bills, traffic, dealing with a difficult boss). This initial familiarity creates a stronger emotional investment.
  • The trauma is amplified: When a character who is a high school chemistry teacher (like Walter White in Breaking Bad) or an ordinary suburban couple (like the protagonists in a Hitchcock thriller) is dragged into a life-or-death situation, the sense of dread and disbelief is far more intense than if the protagonist were already a spy or a police detective.

2. The Escalation Principle (The “Twist”)

The “twist” that turns the banality into chaos is almost always a single, seemingly small choice or event that then creates an irreversible spiral of consequences.

  • The Point of No Return: The character’s struggle is not against a supervillain, but against the weight of their own decisions. The conflict arises from an initial, poor choice made to protect their ordinary life (e.g., lying to a spouse, stealing a small amount of money, attempting a harmless prank).
  • The Loss of Control: The character quickly loses the ability to manage the consequences, and the problems grow exponentially—the simple lie requires a bigger lie, the small theft leads to criminal association. The reader watches their relatable life dissolve, experiencing the terror vicariously.

Examples of the Balanity Spiral

  • Literary Thrillers: Many novels, from those by Harlan Coben to Gillian Flynn (Gone Girl), start with an average person or couple whose ordinary life is shattered by a sudden disappearance or shocking revelation.
  • The Coen Brothers: Their films, like Fargo, often find dark comedy and terrifying violence when bumbling, ordinary people try to commit crimes and are overwhelmed by the reality of their actions.
  • The Suspense Genre: This entire genre is built on the idea that the threat is hiding in plain sight. It often features a non-professional protagonist—a librarian, a teacher, a banker—who stumbles upon a conspiracy and has to rely on their wits and their “boring” skills (like research or careful planning) to survive.

Harry Walthenson, Private Detective – the second case – A case of finding the “Flying Dutchman”

…

What starts as a search for a missing husband soon develops into an unbelievable story of treachery, lies, and incredible riches.

…

It was meant to remain buried long enough for the dust to settle on what was once an unpalatable truth, when enough time had passed, and those who had been willing to wait could reap the rewards.

The problem was, no one knew where that treasure was hidden or the location of the logbook that held the secret.

At stake, billions of dollars’ worth of stolen Nazi loot brought to the United States in an anonymous tramp steamer and hidden in a specially constructed vault under a specifically owned plot of land on the once docklands of New York.

It may have remained hidden and unknown to only a few, if it had not been for a mere obscure detail being overheard …

… by our intrepid, newly minted private detective, Harry Walthenson …

… and it would have remained buried.

Now, through a series of unrelated events, or are they, that well-kept secret is out there, and Harry will not stop until the whole truth is uncovered.

Even if it almost costs him his life.  Again.

Writing a book in 365 days – 266

Day 266

Writing exercise

…

Honestly, I wish I had been born twenty years earlier

Never make wishes.  And definitely never make wishes after too much to drink, or when you are very angry.

Because in the unlikely event…

It was only the second time I had been in that house; the first time, I went away very disillusioned, and my life never really went anywhere.

I had no idea why I was asked back, because Susan was the last person I ever wanted to see again. After all, the last time I was here, I didn’t do what I’d planned to do, to ask her to marry me.

Instead, Gary did, which apparently was the reason for the party.  On his birthday, he was going to make an announcement.  He asked her and she accepted.  I got drunk, punched him, and got thrown out.

20 years ago.

Now he was the Mayor and on his way to the State Governor.  I was the town drunk, well on the road to purgatory.

I had gone straight to the bathroom after someone told me I looked like shit.  Looking at myself in the mirror, I had to agree with them.

Why had they asked me to come to their party?  Susan had barely spoken to me in 20 years, and Gary simply hated me.  I never knew why, because he got the girl of his dreams.

I threw water over my face and through my hair, using my fingers to brush it back off my face like I used to all those years ago.  It was unruly then; it was a mess now

There was a knock on the door, and a male voice said, “You done on there?”  Impatient.

“Yeah.”  A last look, I unlocked the door. 

Whoever was on the other side must have been pushing because as I was turning, the door opened and hit me in the side of the head.

And it was the last thing I remembered.

I woke, staring at the ceiling and to a familiar scent.  The perfume Susan wore.

“You’re back.”

Susan.

I rubbed my eyes and then looked at her, and jumped.  What the. .

She was twenty years younger, the girl at the first party.

“Where am I?”

“In my room,” she said, smiling.

“What happened?”

“Gary was trying to go to the restroom, and you were in there.  You unlocked the door as he was trying to open it, and it hit you in the head.”

I felt the spot, and it was tender.  And it had to be Gary.  I was sure it was deliberate.

But, put that thought away.  She was still 20 years younger.  I struggled to sit up, and she helped me.  Opposite was a mirror and I could see that I was 20 years younger too.

But I had my memories.  It was obvious she didn’t.

What the hell had just happened?

“Are you going to be OK?”

“I think so.  Just give me a few minutes.”

Gary put his head in the door and saw me.  “Sorry, man.  Don’t know my own strength.  You’ll live.  Babe, that thing…”

He tapped his watch.  Gary always had to be somewhere else. 

“Yeah, soon.  Gotta take care of problems before they become problems.”

“Don’t be too long.”  Then he was gone.

“He’s an ass.”

“He’s going places, Rich.  My parents like him.”

“He’s still an ass.”  I sighed.  20 years and I still couldn’t talk to Susan.  “You can do better?”

“In this town? 

I shrugged.  “You’re right, of course.  Aside from the football team and the basketball team, who’s left?  That bunch of misfits on the dopey table.”

The targets for the jocks, as they were known.  Gary, quarterback and captain of the star football team, often delighted in our humiliation.

All the girls swooned over them.

In response to her look of disdain, I added, “Including me.  Just why am I here?”

All those years ago, I had wondered why there had been an invitation sent.  It was for me alone, not a plus one, and I thought it was just another humiliation.  I was the only one from the misfits who got an invitation.

Did Gary send it?  After all, it was his moment; he knew I had a thing for Susan, something he had ragged on me over, especially after he and she became an item.

“Why did you come?  You know Gary is going to ask me to marry him.”

“You don’t have to say yes.”

“Why would I do that?  I want to get out of this place.  Don’t we all?”

I sat there with a dumb expression on my face and her looking at me.  A thousand thoughts went through my head, stopping at one.  Why would she ever want to be with someone like me?

It was 20 years ago all over again.  And then I realised the irony in that.

“That’s why I thought…” That idea of rejection, even of her laughing outright in my face.  I don’t think I could handle it a second time.

“You thought…”

Damn it.  Just say it.  “I love you, Susan.  Always have.  I have often tried to summon the courage to tell you, but I get it.  I’m not one of the cool boys, and…”

She smiled and then shook her head.  “You might have told me this a while back, Rich.  I think you might want to leave now.  I’m glad you told me.  Just remember that you don’t have to be cool, just yourself.”  She took my hand and squeezed it, gave a last, rather curious look, then left.

I took a moment looking at my 20 years younger self in the mirror, shrugged, then turned to leave.

I nearly fainted when I saw Gary filling the doorway.  No exit that way.  There was no mistaking his intention, and just as I tried to duck, I was too late.

When I woke, I was lying on Susan’s bed.

Again.

A slow look around showed the room was different, but the mirror was still there and I was back to my old self, only I didn’t look like shit.

Well, that was a matter of opinion.  Gary, or someone, had made a mess of my face.

Just what in hell was happening to me?

“You’re awake.”

It was that familiar face, 20 years older, but to me, it would never age.  Just seeing her made me feel better.

“What happened?”

“Gary.  Not a happy camper.”

“What did I do this time?”

She looked at me strangely.  “Are you sure you’re ok.  He seemed to hit you rather hard.”

“Not much good at ducking.  I guess I should leave.”

“Why would you want to do that?”  Her expression was more worried now.  “You’ve been acting strangely for a week now.  What aren’t you telling me?”

How could I tell her what just happened?  Travelling through time.  Then I remembered she had once said I could tell her anything.

An odd thought made me look at her hand, and as soon as I saw it and the ring on it, the ring that I intended to give her after I asked her to marry me and she accepted, I knew my whole life had been changed, and I couldn’t remember anything of it.

“I’m losing my memory.  I think I’ve just gone back 20 years, to the day Gary was going to ask you to marry him, and back here now when I was the town drunk and…”

She put her hand over my mouth and said, “Shhh”

Then she leaned over and kissed my forehead.  “We knew this was possible.  Doc Ferguson has moved the surgery forward to Monday.  They’ll get the tutor in your head, and we’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“You’ve been having minor blackouts, but Gary assaulting you has tipped the scales.  He’s going to jail this time, I’ll make sure of it.  You just rest.  Andie will get you anything you need.  Rest.”

She was replaced by a younger version, the way Susan looked 20 years ago.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Truth be told, I didn’t.  “You are the spitting image of your mother 20 years ago.”

She smiled.  “Not that far down the rabbit hole then?”

Apparently not.  It was as if everything came back in a rush, almost overwhelming.  “I’m going to be a grandfather?”

“Mum told you.  She’s not fond of the idea of being a grandmother.  Say it will make her feel old.”

“That girl will never get old.  Not in my eyes.  Now if anything goes wrong on Monday…”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

What I learned about writing: The dust jacket biography

There is that biography that sits on the inside of the dustcover of your book, slightly more impressive than that on X. What are the requirements?

…

That’s a fantastic point, and you’ve hit on the core difference between marketing copy (the X bio) and the author’s professional narrative (the book dust jacket bio).

The dust jacket biography, often called the Author Flap Copy or Jacket Copy, has a completely different purpose, format, and tone than the 160-character X bio. It serves as an authoritative statement to both readers and the book industry.

Key Differences in Purpose and Tone

FeatureX (Twitter) Bio (160 Characters)Book Dust Jacket Bio (Approx. 150-250 Words)
Primary GoalAcquisition & Engagement: Get a quick follow and signal the type of content the user tweets.Authority & Trust: Validate the author’s expertise and establish their professional credentials.
PerspectiveOften First-Person (“I write…”) to establish a personal connection.Almost always Third-Person (“She lives in…”, “He is a…”) to create an objective, authoritative voice.
ToneConversational, Witty, Casual, or Punchy.Formal, Professional, Established, and Narrative-Driven.
FocusCurrent interests, latest projects, and a personal flair.The author’s full professional history, prior publications, and relevant background.

Essentials for the Dust Jacket Biography

Since the book flap bio has a generous word count (relative to X), it functions as a short professional narrative. It should ideally include the following five components:

1. The Opening Hook (Name & Residency)

Start with the author’s full name and their geographic context, often framed by a sentence that establishes their vocation.

  • Example: Dr. Alana Chen is a professor of history at Yale University and a renowned specialist in Cold War espionage.

2. Relevant Credentials and Expertise

This is where the biography justifies why the author is the person who should be writing this particular book.

  • Non-Fiction: Include academic degrees, professional roles, awards, and relevant real-world experience (e.g., “A former intelligence analyst,” “Holds a PhD in Astrophysics,” “Co-founder of the global non-profit…”).
  • Fiction: Mention prior successful novels, major literary awards, or specific background that lends authenticity to the story (e.g., “Her short stories have appeared in The New Yorker,” “A three-time winner of the Edgar Award”).

3. Prior Work and Social Proof

List a maximum of two or three previous major works to demonstrate a history of publication and success.

  • Example: She is the author of the critically acclaimed novels, The Silicon Fog and The Memory Architect.

4. Personal/Relatable Detail

A single sentence to humanise the author and make them relatable to the reader. This is often an interest, a pet, or a detail about their family life.

  • Example: When not researching ancient civilisations, she enjoys hiking the trails near her home with her two rescue dogs.

5. Current Location

The final line often returns to their place of residence to provide a grounding detail.

  • Example: He currently lives in London. (This is often stylised to be the last, standalone line.)

Writing a book in 365 days – 266

Day 266

Writing exercise

…

Honestly, I wish I had been born twenty years earlier

Never make wishes.  And definitely never make wishes after too much to drink, or when you are very angry.

Because in the unlikely event…

It was only the second time I had been in that house; the first time, I went away very disillusioned, and my life never really went anywhere.

I had no idea why I was asked back, because Susan was the last person I ever wanted to see again. After all, the last time I was here, I didn’t do what I’d planned to do, to ask her to marry me.

Instead, Gary did, which apparently was the reason for the party.  On his birthday, he was going to make an announcement.  He asked her and she accepted.  I got drunk, punched him, and got thrown out.

20 years ago.

Now he was the Mayor and on his way to the State Governor.  I was the town drunk, well on the road to purgatory.

I had gone straight to the bathroom after someone told me I looked like shit.  Looking at myself in the mirror, I had to agree with them.

Why had they asked me to come to their party?  Susan had barely spoken to me in 20 years, and Gary simply hated me.  I never knew why, because he got the girl of his dreams.

I threw water over my face and through my hair, using my fingers to brush it back off my face like I used to all those years ago.  It was unruly then; it was a mess now

There was a knock on the door, and a male voice said, “You done on there?”  Impatient.

“Yeah.”  A last look, I unlocked the door. 

Whoever was on the other side must have been pushing because as I was turning, the door opened and hit me in the side of the head.

And it was the last thing I remembered.

I woke, staring at the ceiling and to a familiar scent.  The perfume Susan wore.

“You’re back.”

Susan.

I rubbed my eyes and then looked at her, and jumped.  What the. .

She was twenty years younger, the girl at the first party.

“Where am I?”

“In my room,” she said, smiling.

“What happened?”

“Gary was trying to go to the restroom, and you were in there.  You unlocked the door as he was trying to open it, and it hit you in the head.”

I felt the spot, and it was tender.  And it had to be Gary.  I was sure it was deliberate.

But, put that thought away.  She was still 20 years younger.  I struggled to sit up, and she helped me.  Opposite was a mirror and I could see that I was 20 years younger too.

But I had my memories.  It was obvious she didn’t.

What the hell had just happened?

“Are you going to be OK?”

“I think so.  Just give me a few minutes.”

Gary put his head in the door and saw me.  “Sorry, man.  Don’t know my own strength.  You’ll live.  Babe, that thing…”

He tapped his watch.  Gary always had to be somewhere else. 

“Yeah, soon.  Gotta take care of problems before they become problems.”

“Don’t be too long.”  Then he was gone.

“He’s an ass.”

“He’s going places, Rich.  My parents like him.”

“He’s still an ass.”  I sighed.  20 years and I still couldn’t talk to Susan.  “You can do better?”

“In this town? 

I shrugged.  “You’re right, of course.  Aside from the football team and the basketball team, who’s left?  That bunch of misfits on the dopey table.”

The targets for the jocks, as they were known.  Gary, quarterback and captain of the star football team, often delighted in our humiliation.

All the girls swooned over them.

In response to her look of disdain, I added, “Including me.  Just why am I here?”

All those years ago, I had wondered why there had been an invitation sent.  It was for me alone, not a plus one, and I thought it was just another humiliation.  I was the only one from the misfits who got an invitation.

Did Gary send it?  After all, it was his moment; he knew I had a thing for Susan, something he had ragged on me over, especially after he and she became an item.

“Why did you come?  You know Gary is going to ask me to marry him.”

“You don’t have to say yes.”

“Why would I do that?  I want to get out of this place.  Don’t we all?”

I sat there with a dumb expression on my face and her looking at me.  A thousand thoughts went through my head, stopping at one.  Why would she ever want to be with someone like me?

It was 20 years ago all over again.  And then I realised the irony in that.

“That’s why I thought…” That idea of rejection, even of her laughing outright in my face.  I don’t think I could handle it a second time.

“You thought…”

Damn it.  Just say it.  “I love you, Susan.  Always have.  I have often tried to summon the courage to tell you, but I get it.  I’m not one of the cool boys, and…”

She smiled and then shook her head.  “You might have told me this a while back, Rich.  I think you might want to leave now.  I’m glad you told me.  Just remember that you don’t have to be cool, just yourself.”  She took my hand and squeezed it, gave a last, rather curious look, then left.

I took a moment looking at my 20 years younger self in the mirror, shrugged, then turned to leave.

I nearly fainted when I saw Gary filling the doorway.  No exit that way.  There was no mistaking his intention, and just as I tried to duck, I was too late.

When I woke, I was lying on Susan’s bed.

Again.

A slow look around showed the room was different, but the mirror was still there and I was back to my old self, only I didn’t look like shit.

Well, that was a matter of opinion.  Gary, or someone, had made a mess of my face.

Just what in hell was happening to me?

“You’re awake.”

It was that familiar face, 20 years older, but to me, it would never age.  Just seeing her made me feel better.

“What happened?”

“Gary.  Not a happy camper.”

“What did I do this time?”

She looked at me strangely.  “Are you sure you’re ok.  He seemed to hit you rather hard.”

“Not much good at ducking.  I guess I should leave.”

“Why would you want to do that?”  Her expression was more worried now.  “You’ve been acting strangely for a week now.  What aren’t you telling me?”

How could I tell her what just happened?  Travelling through time.  Then I remembered she had once said I could tell her anything.

An odd thought made me look at her hand, and as soon as I saw it and the ring on it, the ring that I intended to give her after I asked her to marry me and she accepted, I knew my whole life had been changed, and I couldn’t remember anything of it.

“I’m losing my memory.  I think I’ve just gone back 20 years, to the day Gary was going to ask you to marry him, and back here now when I was the town drunk and…”

She put her hand over my mouth and said, “Shhh”

Then she leaned over and kissed my forehead.  “We knew this was possible.  Doc Ferguson has moved the surgery forward to Monday.  They’ll get the tutor in your head, and we’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“You’ve been having minor blackouts, but Gary assaulting you has tipped the scales.  He’s going to jail this time, I’ll make sure of it.  You just rest.  Andie will get you anything you need.  Rest.”

She was replaced by a younger version, the way Susan looked 20 years ago.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Truth be told, I didn’t.  “You are the spitting image of your mother 20 years ago.”

She smiled.  “Not that far down the rabbit hole then?”

Apparently not.  It was as if everything came back in a rush, almost overwhelming.  “I’m going to be a grandfather?”

“Mum told you.  She’s not fond of the idea of being a grandmother.  Say it will make her feel old.”

“That girl will never get old.  Not in my eyes.  Now if anything goes wrong on Monday…”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

In a word: Prize

What you win, first prize in a raffle, though I don’t think I’ve ever won first prize.  Second maybe.  But, aren’t all raffles rigged?  

But despite my unfortunate run of luck, a prize is generally give to someone who works hard, or wins a race

Or I could have been a prize fighter but lacked the size and the strength, and out of curiosity how many prize fighters didn’t win a prize?

And if I had been a pirate, I could have sailed the seven seas to find a prize, namely a ship to attack and take as my own.

And as a prime example, a Chelsea supporter walking into a bar full of Manchester United fans could be called a prize idiot.

This is not to be confused with the word prise

Don’t relatives prise the last dollar out of a dying man’s hand?

Or prise the truth out of a witness, or a perpetrator

Or prise a window open like thieves do when we forget to lock them properly?

Writing about writing a book – Day 2

Hang about.  Didn’t I read somewhere you need to plan your novel, create an outline, set the plot points, and flesh out the characters?

I’m sure it didn’t say, sit down and start writing!

Time to find a writing pad and put my thinking cap on.

I make a list, what’s the story going to be about? Who’s going to be in it, at least at the start?

Like a newspaper story, I need a who, what, when, where, and how.

Right now.

 

I pick up the pen.

 

Character number one:

Computer nerd, ok, that’s a little close to the bone, a computer manager who is trying to be everything at once, and failing.  Still me, but with a twist.  Now, add a little mystery to him, and give him a secret, one that will only be revealed after a specific set of circumstance.  Yes, I like that.

We’ll call him Bill, ex-regular army, a badly injured and repatriated soldier who was sent to fight a war in Vietnam, the result of which had made him, at times, unfit to live with.

He had a wife, which brings us to,

Character number two:

Ellen, Bill’s ex-wife, an army brat and a General’s daughter, and the result of one of those romances that met disapproval for so many reasons.  It worked until Bill came back from the war, and from there it slowly disintegrated.  There are two daughters, both by the time the novel begins, old enough to understand the ramifications of a divorce.

Character number three:

The man who is Bill’s immediate superior, the Services Department manager, a rather officious man who blindly follows orders, a man who takes pleasure in making others feel small and insignificant, and worst of all, takes the credit where none is due.

Oops, too much, that is my old boss.  He’ll know immediately I’m parodying him.  Tone it down, just a little, but more or less that’s him.  Last name Benton.  He will play a small role in the story.

Character number four:

Jennifer, the IT Department’s assistant manager, a woman who arrives in a shroud of mystery, and then, in time, to provide Bill with a shoulder to cry on when he and Ellen finally split, and perhaps something else later on.

More on her later as the story unfolds.

So far so good.

What’s the plot?

Huge corporation plotting to take over the world using computers?  No, that’s been done to death.

Huge corporation, OK, let’s stop blaming the corporate world for everything wrong in the world.  Corporations are not bad people; people are the bad people.  That’s a rip-off cliché, from guns don’t kill people, people kill people!  There will be guns, and there will be dead people.

There will be people hiding behind a huge corporation, using a part of their computer network to move billions of illegally gained dollars around.  That’s better.

Now, having got that, our ‘hero’ has to ‘discover’ this network, and the people behind it.

All we need now is to set the ball rolling, a single event that ‘throws a cat among the pigeons’.

Yes, Bill is on holiday, a welcome relief from the problems of work.  He dreams of what he’s going to do for the next two weeks.  The phone rings.  Benton is calling, the world is coming to an end, the network is down.  He’s needed.  A few terse words, but he relents.

Pen in hand, I begin to write.

…

© Charles Heath 2016-2025