Tag: Travel

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 re-writes, 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 Years, 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 there were apartment buildings 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 center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of 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

 

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 re-writes, 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 Years, 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 there were apartment buildings 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 center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of 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

 

Going home

Home has a great many different meanings, for me, and, I guess, a great many others.

Over a lifetime we have a lot of different homes, we tend not to stay in one place all our lives.

I know, for me, my first home was in Carrum, when I was very young, and I don’t remember much of it. My second home was Mordialloc, but, again, I don’t remember much of it either.

My next home was Dandenong, in not one house, but two, the first I spent my grade school years, the second, my secondary school years, and in between a short period in a country town called Berrigan.

Then, after getting married, I left that house where my parents continued to live for quite a few years, as we bounced around, from Burnley to North Dandenong, having been drawn back to where I used to live, then back home to my parents for a short period, and North Dandenong again.

It’s curious how we return to certain places to live, rather than consider another suburb say North or West.

Equally curious about how I tend to call going home, when traveling in Australia, not, as you would think, our home in Queensland, but where we used to live in Victoria. I guess that is because it’s my spiritual home.

People often ask if we would return to Victoria, and the answer, of course, is no. We might have most of our in-law families there, but it is not enough of a pull to return. We are content just to come back once or twice a year.

For us, Melbourne had become too large a city, with all the problems that go with it. Brisbane has and will be for the rest of my lifetime, have much fewer traffic problems and the feel of being less urbanized. One thing I don’t miss about being in Melbourne is the traffic. It is horrendous, any time of the day and night.

But what would be good in Brisbane is the markets like those at Queen Victoria and South Melbourne. We have nothing like it.

And something else, rather more frivolous, Brisbane doesn’t have the same fish and chips, donuts, or spring rolls and dim sims. Every time we come down, those are the first things we get, even if we have to go out of our way.

But if someone was to ask, off the cuff, where my home is, it always comes out as Melbourne, and I have no idea why.  When they ask where I live, which is supposedly the same, I tell them Brisbane.  I guess it has a lot to do with where you grow up, though I’m still trying to figure it out.

At least it’s easy when I’m overseas.  When they ask, the answer is, simply, Australia.

It’s just another Sunday

Outside it’s sunny but cold. We have had better days, but winter has been struggling to get through about of reasonably warm weather. Now it’s going to hang around for a few days, before it’s gone forever. Well, till next year. Wednesday is predicted to be 27 degrees centigrade, and will no doubt be the start of a very long summer.

Of course, we were all dreading winter because of the possibility of a second wave of COVID 19, but in Queensland that didn’t happen. It was further south, in Victoria and New South Wales.

And, oddly, over the seas in New Zealand.

It put a dent in our travel plans because we were planning to go there as soon as the borders opened, but that’s gone by the wayside. They had it stamped out, lasting 102 days before it insidiously came back.

It’s nasty this virus. It apparently came over from China as part of a container of frozen chicken wings, the virus surviving in sub zero tempertures so that it can infect anyone who picks up an item. It got into the food distributor’s factory, and ran riot after that. One infection has turned into 40, and it’s likely to get worse before it gets better.

So, now we have to beware of imported frozen food, and there is a lot of that here, and more than likely, its all over the world as time, a hidden threat to everyone.

Perhaps its time to stop looking at the news, because it’s all depressing.

Instead, it’s time to go back to reading thrillers, starting with James Patterson.

I’ve lost the will to work on my latest book, mainly because the draft is finished but I don’t like some of what’s written, so I’ll let it sit for the time it takes to read a few of my favorite authorsg and see if I can draw some inspiration, or determination, from them.

Or maybe tomorrow I’ll feel different.

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 re-writes, 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 Years, 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 there were apartment buildings 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 center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of 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

 

In a word: Dear

Yes, it’s that simple word that we use to call someone affectionately.

Or sometimes, with a little accent on the word; yes, dear and no, dear.

In other words, it’s a person regarded with deep affection.

It can also mean expensive, by saying, that’s a bit dear, isn’t it, when we’re really saying it’s way overpriced.

I can’t remember how many times I’ve said something is ‘too dear’ to the children.

Grannies tend to use the expression, ‘be a dear and…’, to get you do do something for them.

Friends, sometimes tongue in cheek, will say, ‘oh dear, I’ve upset you’, when that was exactly what they meant to do.  Friends you say?  Yes, friends indeed.

And then we always start a letter (always?  Who writes letters any more?) with

Dear John (oops, not one of THOSE letters)

Dear Sir/Madam

Of course, instead of swearing, you could simply say ‘Oh dear, you’ve let us down again!’.

And when you lose your job, which is happening a lot at the moment, it is said it would cost you dear, though sometimes it would be more appropriate to use the adverb, dearly.

It is not to be confused with the word deer which is an animal, the males of which have antlers.

There are a number of different types of deer, such as reindeer and elk.  In Canada, they are called caribou.

In Robin Hood’s day, killing deer brought you very harsh punishment.

And one of my favourite meats is venison, meat from a deer, which are farmed in New Zealand along with sheep.

Delving into the inspirational photo bin…

I found this…


So near and yet so far.

What I found was the moon out in the late afternoon, a phenomenon that might happen on a regular basis, but this one of the few times I’ve seen it.

So, what kind of inspiration does this bring to mind?

A chance to fly to the moon?  Move into the future, and, out one afternoon staring into space, you see the moon, but don’t think anything of it.

Until you come home, and on the TV there’s an add for trips to the moon, a lunar holiday, a chance to stay in a five-star hotel, perhaps catch the launching of a supply ship to Mars, or a round of moon golf?

And what if, on the way to the moon, something goes wrong?

Or better still, after you’ve landed, there’s a murder, and you’re the only qualified detective?

Not original, but a quirky story with endless possibilities, with the possibility that the blood spatter, is floating in space, with the victim, in a room with no atmosphere?

I can feel a story coming on!

I’m glad I’m not in America…

Sadly, it’s true.

The problem is, I don’t know what to believe.   Are there more cases of COVID 19 there than anywhere else in the world?  Are there more deaths?

I read some reports that say that everything that is reported about COVID 19 in the US is nothing but lies, I believe the actual term used is ‘fake news’.

What is fake news?

From another side, that of the fake news outlets, yes I tuned into one of President Trumps political speeches (sorry, COVID 19 updates), and discovered that CNN and the New York Times were the leading culprits of spreading fake news, it seems that everything is going to hell in a handbasket.

Democrat lies, I’m told.  The President, on the other hand, says the US is moving ahead incredibly, the economy is booming, everyone is going back to work, school is in, and COVID is just a distant memory.

Who is right?  How do you make an informed decision?

I’m confused.  I want to visit New York, but one side is telling me it’s not safe, that infections and death is not going away, and the other, come on over, everything is fine.

Why, then, does my government tell me I can’t go anywhere?

Have the Democrats invaded my country and now telling us what we can and can’t do?

Will they be forming a radical left movement here and start up the looting and destruction of our cities?  And move onto defunding the police?

That’s another thing I don’t understand.  If your police departments have been defunded, and all the police are quitting, who is in charge of law and order, for that matter, is there any law and order?

Can someone PLEASE tell me what’s going on?

In a word: Wall

There’s nothing like ‘hitting the wall’.  It’s a rather quaint expression used when you have used up all your energy and there’s nothing left.  A lot of sportspeople are very familiar with this expression.

But it doesn’t have anything to do with hitting a real wall, you know the sort, made out of plaster, or bricks, or timber.  Some people hit the wall in this case too, and soon find out what it’s like to have a broken hand.

There’s wall street, you know the one, it has a bull in it, and it’s in New York, down that end of the city where the Twin Towers used to be.  It’s rumoured lots of ‘jiggery-pokery’ goes on there.

Try stonewalling, you know, give answers to questions that don’t answer the questions, or find something else to do and put off being questioned.  I’m not sure, however, that’s how Stonewall Jackson got his name.

We can climb the walls, metaphorically speaking, but it is something we don’t actually do when we’re bored.

And, I’m sure everyone has heard of the Great Wall of China.  Even those who travel in space have seen it, from a long, long way away.  I’ve tried walking along it, and up it, yes, parts of it go up the sides of mountains, and it’s challenging.  Maybe you should try it sometime.

Perhaps a few others, just to finish with, like

I got hit by a wall of water – yep, watch out for them tidal waves

There’s a wall between us, nope, not gonna talk to you

His stomach wall is failing, which means he’s in very bad shape, and

He couldn’t get through the wall of players, oh, well, maybe we’ll win the FA cup final next year!

Delving into the inspirational photo bin

Does a rainy, cold, miserable sort of day usually reflect your mood?

This was taken on the morning of the following day we arrived in the Gold Coast hinterland when we were staying at a cottage in the countryside.

Good thing we had a GPS to get us there.

Going away for a weekend, in winter, can be challenging.  Not always, but for some years now, we have been going away when it is winter elsewhere in the world, and thought nothing of minus temperatures, simply because our summers are very, very hot.

With the pandemic travel anywhere is all but closed down.  This was at a time when we could only travel up to 200 km from home, in a low-level set of restrictions.  It’s since changed to the whole of the state because the other state borders are closed.

But winter here is not as bad as winter on the other side of the world.  Wet, raining, it was still about 16 degrees celsius, so it turned out to be a weekend where we could just sit on the patio and watch the rain go by, a rather interesting phenomenon watching it and the low clouds pass by going up the valley.

I was trying to read a book, but it was one of those that required no distractions.  I’d also tried doing some crosswords, but that too required concentration.

And being in the middle of nowhere with nothing but hills, bush, fields, farm animals, macadamia nut plantations, and a river, there was plenty going on around us.

I still have to bring a fishing line the next time, and tackle fishing in the river.  Maybe I’ll catch a trout.