Tag: words

Writing a book in 365 days – 38

Day 38

Today’s trick of the trade dovetails very neatly with the previous day’s exploration of keeping the reader’s attention.

This time it is about not writing flowery prose. Perhaps you might know it by another name, writing about the background, the location, characters, anything but advance the story.

Here’s the thing.

Most readers get bored with flowery prose.

Of course, it is always a matter of opinion what is flowery prose and what isn’t, but I find that sometimes a detailed description of the place and time will match the mood and temperament of the characters.

Thus, a day could be very hot, then training, and then steaming, and a character could be sweating profusely, getting soaking wet, and then getting all steamed up, and not necessarily because it’s wet and hot.

Readers, as writers, need their senses stimulated in time to the cadence of the novel. We’ve been there. and sometimes it’s nice to read about someone who is, after all, like us. We don’t want all our characters to be beyond our reach or comprehension.

Just the same as a description of our characters, who has;t had the typical school mistress, tracking nun who is a monster, teacher who was a disciplinarian, or a friend who stabbed us in the back, or who we thought was a friend.

Descriptions yes, flowery maybe, but necessary, yes.

What I learned about writing – Do not write flowery prose

Day 38

Today’s trick of the trade dovetails very neatly with the previous day’s exploration of keeping the reader’s attention.

This time it is about not writing flowery prose. Perhaps you might know it by another name, writing about the background, the location, characters, anything but advance the story.

Here’s the thing.

Most readers get bored with flowery prose.

Of course, it is always a matter of opinion what is flowery prose and what isn’t, but I find that sometimes a detailed description of the place and time will match the mood and temperament of the characters.

Thus, a day could be very hot, then training, and then steaming, and a character could be sweating profusely, getting soaking wet, and then getting all steamed up, and not necessarily because it’s wet and hot.

Readers, as writers, need their senses stimulated in time to the cadence of the novel. We’ve been there. and sometimes it’s nice to read about someone who is, after all, like us. We don’t want all our characters to be beyond our reach or comprehension.

Just the same as a description of our characters, who has;t had the typical school mistress, tracking nun who is a monster, teacher who was a disciplinarian, or a friend who stabbed us in the back, or who we thought was a friend.

Descriptions yes, flowery maybe, but necessary, yes.

Writing a book in 365 days – 37

Day 37

We’re back to words of wisdom, in which the true writer has nothing to say, what counts is the way he says it.

Does this mean everything we write must be compelling? Certainly, that remark I once read on the front of a thriller novel I once bought simply because of it, holds true. The remark, “Grabs the reader by the scruff of the neck and drags them through to the last crowded page”.

And oddly enough it was true, I read the book in a single sitting.

It also lit the fire under me to write spy novels, too.

I’m guessing that the whole reason behind the simple few words is to make us writers sit up and think about how we’re going to engage the reader.

I read a lot, and it’s generally the first few pages that will draw me in or turn me off. I had written quite a few stories, and it took me a while to realise that boring introductory stuff can be spread sparingly through the pages, whilst all the edge-of-the-seat stuff is going on around it.

I call it writing the James Bond start, that from the first sentence you’ve been dropped into an erupting volcano, and you’ve got about fifteen seconds to work out how to get out of it. Of course, there is that circling helicopter gunship firing machine guns at you at the same time, shredding the parachute that just caught fire.

It’s why, going way back in cinema land in the previous century, the serials that ran before the main picture always had a cliffhanger ending.

The same should apply, in a sense, to the story, always leaving it in such a way that the reader has to read on.

I try.

Writing a book in 365 days – 37

Day 37

We’re back to words of wisdom, in which the true writer has nothing to say, what counts is the way he says it.

Does this mean everything we write must be compelling? Certainly, that remark I once read on the front of a thriller novel I once bought simply because of it, holds true. The remark, “Grabs the reader by the scruff of the neck and drags them through to the last crowded page”.

And oddly enough it was true, I read the book in a single sitting.

It also lit the fire under me to write spy novels, too.

I’m guessing that the whole reason behind the simple few words is to make us writers sit up and think about how we’re going to engage the reader.

I read a lot, and it’s generally the first few pages that will draw me in or turn me off. I had written quite a few stories, and it took me a while to realise that boring introductory stuff can be spread sparingly through the pages, whilst all the edge-of-the-seat stuff is going on around it.

I call it writing the James Bond start, that from the first sentence you’ve been dropped into an erupting volcano, and you’ve got about fifteen seconds to work out how to get out of it. Of course, there is that circling helicopter gunship firing machine guns at you at the same time, shredding the parachute that just caught fire.

It’s why, going way back in cinema land in the previous century, the serials that ran before the main picture always had a cliffhanger ending.

The same should apply, in a sense, to the story, always leaving it in such a way that the reader has to read on.

I try.

The Cinema of My Dreams – It ended in Sorrento – Episode 50

Arrival in Sorrento

…

We didn’t have to wait that long to see what our tail did, he simply sped up and drove off, perhaps satisfied he had been made, and knew we were going to ditch him before we got to our eventual destination.

It would be hard for him to guess where we were going, so that meant that he would arrange for someone to pick us up as we came into the city, or after.

After all, he knew what car I was travelling in, and he knew what we looked like.  Which is why we stopped briefly in Naples and changed cars and clothes.

Then, by a quirk of fate, we saw him again, parked on the side of the road, near Pompei, waiting.  He had been hidden behind several trucks, but at the last minute on of the trucks moved, and I saw the car.

And there he sat, not assuming we would be smart enough to change cars.  What was it Rodby said from time to time?  Good help is hard to find.

I had no doubt the moment he reported in, that other arrangements were not already underway.  If they were smart, they’d know what my destination was, the home of the Burkehardt’s up in the hills that overlooked the Mediterranean, with billion-dollar views, nestled in among the exclusive and very expensive resorts.

Cecelia had booked on and it was where she had been relaxing in what time she had away from surveillance.  She was at the hotel when I called, and we arrived there a half hour later.

I’d already forewarned her about my new shadow.

She met us down in the foyer, gave Francesca her ‘don’t mess with me, or else’ scowl, and then took us up to the room.  It was amazing, and I would probably never be able to afford to stay in a room, or place, like it if I had to pay for it myself.

Francesca was suitably impressed.  “How much had you got on your expense account.  I can barely buy a sandwich with mine.”

“Normally we don’t either, but this is a ‘by all means available’ mission.”

She gave me a blank look, and I didn’t have the time or inclination to explain it to her.  We would not be seeing her again after this.

“I trust your charges are behaving themselves selves and remaining anonymous,” I asked her, after sitting down with a bottle of wine and three glasses, and we’d all taken a separate chair each.

“No.  You didn’t expect them to stay in the room, despite the fact someone is trying to kill them.  I’m not their nursemaid.  They want to get killed they can.”

I frowned at her.  We were supposed to be keeping them alive.  I suppose learning they were fakes didn’t help.  Vittoria and Juliet weren’t, or at least I hope they weren’t, but the jury was still out on that.

I was going back to see them after I spoke to the Burkehardt matriarch.  Or maybe I would talk to Juliet again.  I couldn’t believe that everything I did seemed to involve her, and I was hoping the universe wasn’t trying to tell me something.

“Who are these people again,” Francesca asked.

“Didn’t you tell her?”  Cecelia looked at me.

“No.  Relevance?”

“None,” she looked at Francesca.  “A woman called Vittoria who was a maid at the house I’ve been watching for that last day or so and her daughter Juliet are supposed to be keeping a low profile.  It appears Juliet might be another direct descendant of the Count’s.  I’m surprised your employers didn’t tell you of her?”

“They mentioned the possibility of another heir.  They just didn’t know who or where she was.  She’s here, you say?”

“Yes.  I hope they’re safe, and, no, we’re not telling you where they are.  Not until we know your employers, whom I’m assuming are the Burkehardt’s, are not trying to kill her.”

“I assure you that neither am I, and I work for the investigations company, not the Burkehardt’s.  I can only take orders from my boss.  He was very clear about that.”

“Good.  I’d hate to have to shoot you because you lied.”

I could see she meant what she said.  I hoped Francesca did too.  She seemed to brush that threat aside.

“What about the countess?”

“That’s the bigger question, where is she?  We’d like to know so if you have any ideas, please share.  For this dynamic to work, you must be willing to share information.  It’s not going to be a one-way street.”

“So, you don’t know where the countess is?”

Cecelia looked at me. 

“Inquisitive little bugger, isn’t she?  Don’t make it so obvious you want to know.  Didn’t your boss tell you; that you must be subtle when approaching people like us, people with more experience, and less of a conscience.

Francesca looked at me.

“Don’t think I won’t stop you if you get in the way.  You can stay while it is useful to us, but don’t ask questions you know we’re not going to give you answers for.”

“Then I’ll assume you don’t know where she is, other than most likely in Sorrento, waiting for the meeting.”

“Good assessment.”

© Charles Heath 2023

Writing a book in 365 days – 36

Day 36

Today we’re tackling the subject of reference books for writers, the sort that teach us the rudiments of grammar, style, how-to, and how not to write.

Short of getting a complete idiot’s guide, which may or may not help, the sort of books that tell you how to write a novel in a week, month, or year may be equally as amusing. it may have worked for the author, but when it comes to another individual, I’m not so sure it helps.

For me, I collected a wide range of how-to and references to aid in writing and read a great many articles in magazines, all of which helped in small ways. I kept my own references, and out of those notes are bits and pieces I add to my blog for people to read or ignore as they wish.

No one ever likes the idea of being told what to do, except when it comes to a publisher’s editor because in the end we all want our book published and to hold that final product in our hands and say, I did that.

As a magazine, I find Writer’s Digest is quite good if it is still published. I used to get it, but the subscription lapsed a few years back. Others are Poets and Writers, and The Paris Review.

Books that I found useful, A Style Manual, Self Editing for fiction writers, A Compendium of Good Writing, the Oxford Essential Guide to Writing, and quite a collection of dictionaries and thesauruses, the best of which is the Oxford Shorter Dictionary, though how the word shot got in the title is beyond me.

And then there are the obligatory books on writing by famous authors such as Stephen King and Patricia Highsmith just to name two.

Writing a book in 365 days – 36

Day 36

Today we’re tackling the subject of reference books for writers, the sort that teach us the rudiments of grammar, style, how-to, and how not to write.

Short of getting a complete idiot’s guide, which may or may not help, the sort of books that tell you how to write a novel in a week, month, or year may be equally as amusing. it may have worked for the author, but when it comes to another individual, I’m not so sure it helps.

For me, I collected a wide range of how-to and references to aid in writing and read a great many articles in magazines, all of which helped in small ways. I kept my own references, and out of those notes are bits and pieces I add to my blog for people to read or ignore as they wish.

No one ever likes the idea of being told what to do, except when it comes to a publisher’s editor because in the end we all want our book published and to hold that final product in our hands and say, I did that.

As a magazine, I find Writer’s Digest is quite good if it is still published. I used to get it, but the subscription lapsed a few years back. Others are Poets and Writers, and The Paris Review.

Books that I found useful, A Style Manual, Self Editing for fiction writers, A Compendium of Good Writing, the Oxford Essential Guide to Writing, and quite a collection of dictionaries and thesauruses, the best of which is the Oxford Shorter Dictionary, though how the word shot got in the title is beyond me.

And then there are the obligatory books on writing by famous authors such as Stephen King and Patricia Highsmith just to name two.

Writing a book in 365 days – 35

Day 35

Dialogue—don’t we all just love writing dialogue? Well, we have an exercise that starts with the line “I dare you to tell me the truth.” Yes, we all know the answer to that: “You couldn’t handle the truth,” and the truth might be that we couldn’t.

Can you imagine someone you know and trust walking up to you and saying they just had a conversation with aliens from another planet? You’d probably laugh and walk off.

I think the problem is that we have been conditioned by the very people we are supposed to trust, who lie to us constantly, so often, we no longer know what the truth is. Politicians in particular are very good at it, and sometimes our partners.

But, anyway, what difference does it make, one way or another.

So, let’s give it a go….

…

“I dare you to tell me the truth.”

Evelyn glared at me with such intensity that it made me feel hot under the collar.
Perhaps that was a tinge of guilt, not that I had done anything wrong, but her meddling sister had been in her ear again, and I was never going to live down the fact I chose Evelyn over her.

It had taken me a week to realise Darcy, her older sister, was a manipulative and evil woman like their mother had been. And years before I had rediscovered Evelyn, and another after that before we started dating.

Now it was the week of the wedding, and Darcy was up to her old tricks. Her sister was happy and settled, Darcy was not, and she didn’t like it.

“The truth about Elizabeth.”

Oh, Elizabeth. The other girl I’d liked at school, and was out of my league, then and now. Darcy trotted her out every time she wanted to make Evelyn unsettled, hinting that we had had a long-standing relationship the whole time, and secretly, I was more in love with her.

The truth? I was not. She had told me a long time ago that anything with me was impossible because of her parent’s expectations.

“Well, the obvious truth, is she’s a lovely lady, single, simply because she doesn’t trust any man, and probably will remain so now that she has taken over the running of her family business. You and I both know for a fact she has spent three weeks at best this side of the Atlantic this year, so I’m not sure when we’re supposed to have found time to be together.”

It was the same answer I gave her the last time and the time before that. And it would be the next time if there was a next time. I always took it as a sign that if Evelyn was looking for excuses, she was prevaricating.

“You’ve made four two-week trips to England in the last six months.”

This was true, and I told her the details of each trip, where I went, who I saw, and called her twice a day, first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

I sighed. I just caught a glimpse of Darcy outside the door to the room listening to the fruits of her labours, to break us up. Perhaps it was time to do so. Darcy was never going to give up, and Evelyn was always going to not fully trust me.

“The truth is always going to be what you believe, Evelyn, not what I say. And if you want a truth, right now, it is that whatever it is we think we have, it’s not going to work. Not if you’re going to let Darcy undermine our relationship. So, here’s the truth, Evelyn. We should not get married and spend the rest of our lives regretting it. There has been and always will be, only one girl for me and that’s you. It’s a pity Darcy can’t see that. So, another truth, Evelyn, let Darcy pick your husband, get her seal of approval, and perhaps then she’ll stop making everybody else’s life as miserable as hers is. I’m sorry Evelyn, but enough is enough.”

“The wedding is off?” Why did she suddenly sound incredulous?

“It’s what Darcy wants, and you apparently agree with her. As for me, I’m done with Washington, I actually quit my job yesterday, and in about three hours I’m getting on a plane to go home. Since my father died, my mother has not been coping with the business, and Joey is about as useless as Darcy is. Pity they didn’t get married, they certainly a pigeon pair. But there it is, you live and learn. Goodbye, Evelyn. I really do hope you find what you’re looking for, but as far as I can see, it’s not me.”

I gave her a final look up and down, realising that I would never find another like her ever again. Then I shook my head and walked out of the room. Had she asked me to come back, I would have. Had she said she was no longer going to listen to her sister, I would have believed her, but she said nothing.

Darcy was waiting at the front door and opened it as I approached.

“How does it feel to be a loser?” she asked.

“You always said you’d get your revenge.”

“Yes,” she smiled, the cat who ate the canary, “I did.”

I smiled back. “What do you do for a living again? Portfolio management?”

“I pick and choose companies that I believe are very good investments for our clients, and we make a lot of money. I make a lot of money.”

“What was your prediction for Billingsgate?”

“Not what happened. That was an aberration. Whoever owns it just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Twenty-five billion dollars.”

“Thirty-two, but who is counting. That was my brainchild, Darcy. And like I said, and I know you were listening in, I quit my job, well not actually quit, just sold the company, and now I’m going home. I only ever did any of it for Evelyn, and now, thanks to you, she’ll never get to find out. Hope you’re pleased with yourself. Goodbye, Darcy.”

I walked out the door and didn’t look back. It was a cheap shot, but after everything she had done, I allowed myself that one thing.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Writing a book in 365 days – 35

Day 35

Dialogue—don’t we all just love writing dialogue? Well, we have an exercise that starts with the line “I dare you to tell me the truth.” Yes, we all know the answer to that: “You couldn’t handle the truth,” and the truth might be that we couldn’t.

Can you imagine someone you know and trust walking up to you and saying they just had a conversation with aliens from another planet? You’d probably laugh and walk off.

I think the problem is that we have been conditioned by the very people we are supposed to trust, who lie to us constantly, so often, we no longer know what the truth is. Politicians in particular are very good at it, and sometimes our partners.

But, anyway, what difference does it make, one way or another.

So, let’s give it a go….

…

“I dare you to tell me the truth.”

Evelyn glared at me with such intensity that it made me feel hot under the collar.
Perhaps that was a tinge of guilt, not that I had done anything wrong, but her meddling sister had been in her ear again, and I was never going to live down the fact I chose Evelyn over her.

It had taken me a week to realise Darcy, her older sister, was a manipulative and evil woman like their mother had been. And years before I had rediscovered Evelyn, and another after that before we started dating.

Now it was the week of the wedding, and Darcy was up to her old tricks. Her sister was happy and settled, Darcy was not, and she didn’t like it.

“The truth about Elizabeth.”

Oh, Elizabeth. The other girl I’d liked at school, and was out of my league, then and now. Darcy trotted her out every time she wanted to make Evelyn unsettled, hinting that we had had a long-standing relationship the whole time, and secretly, I was more in love with her.

The truth? I was not. She had told me a long time ago that anything with me was impossible because of her parent’s expectations.

“Well, the obvious truth, is she’s a lovely lady, single, simply because she doesn’t trust any man, and probably will remain so now that she has taken over the running of her family business. You and I both know for a fact she has spent three weeks at best this side of the Atlantic this year, so I’m not sure when we’re supposed to have found time to be together.”

It was the same answer I gave her the last time and the time before that. And it would be the next time if there was a next time. I always took it as a sign that if Evelyn was looking for excuses, she was prevaricating.

“You’ve made four two-week trips to England in the last six months.”

This was true, and I told her the details of each trip, where I went, who I saw, and called her twice a day, first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

I sighed. I just caught a glimpse of Darcy outside the door to the room listening to the fruits of her labours, to break us up. Perhaps it was time to do so. Darcy was never going to give up, and Evelyn was always going to not fully trust me.

“The truth is always going to be what you believe, Evelyn, not what I say. And if you want a truth, right now, it is that whatever it is we think we have, it’s not going to work. Not if you’re going to let Darcy undermine our relationship. So, here’s the truth, Evelyn. We should not get married and spend the rest of our lives regretting it. There has been and always will be, only one girl for me and that’s you. It’s a pity Darcy can’t see that. So, another truth, Evelyn, let Darcy pick your husband, get her seal of approval, and perhaps then she’ll stop making everybody else’s life as miserable as hers is. I’m sorry Evelyn, but enough is enough.”

“The wedding is off?” Why did she suddenly sound incredulous?

“It’s what Darcy wants, and you apparently agree with her. As for me, I’m done with Washington, I actually quit my job yesterday, and in about three hours I’m getting on a plane to go home. Since my father died, my mother has not been coping with the business, and Joey is about as useless as Darcy is. Pity they didn’t get married, they certainly a pigeon pair. But there it is, you live and learn. Goodbye, Evelyn. I really do hope you find what you’re looking for, but as far as I can see, it’s not me.”

I gave her a final look up and down, realising that I would never find another like her ever again. Then I shook my head and walked out of the room. Had she asked me to come back, I would have. Had she said she was no longer going to listen to her sister, I would have believed her, but she said nothing.

Darcy was waiting at the front door and opened it as I approached.

“How does it feel to be a loser?” she asked.

“You always said you’d get your revenge.”

“Yes,” she smiled, the cat who ate the canary, “I did.”

I smiled back. “What do you do for a living again? Portfolio management?”

“I pick and choose companies that I believe are very good investments for our clients, and we make a lot of money. I make a lot of money.”

“What was your prediction for Billingsgate?”

“Not what happened. That was an aberration. Whoever owns it just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Twenty-five billion dollars.”

“Thirty-two, but who is counting. That was my brainchild, Darcy. And like I said, and I know you were listening in, I quit my job, well not actually quit, just sold the company, and now I’m going home. I only ever did any of it for Evelyn, and now, thanks to you, she’ll never get to find out. Hope you’re pleased with yourself. Goodbye, Darcy.”

I walked out the door and didn’t look back. It was a cheap shot, but after everything she had done, I allowed myself that one thing.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Writing a book in 365 days – 34

Day 34

The importance of backstories for characters.

This is an interesting topic to pop up, especially after the writing of the previous blog post in this series.

I always create legends for my characters, and perhaps the only planning I do for any story, that notion I should know each of the characters inside out so that I have a good idea of where they’re going to go.

There’s no point suddenly deciding the main character has an allergic reaction to cats. All this stuff needs to be known before putting pen to paper.

Then there are locations. I’m a bit like a movie studio in that I have the script and then send out the scouts to find places to follow the story. In this case, I’m looking for locations and writing the story after I have found them.

All the background work starts to feed the story. I usually have an idea before I start, and rather than sketch it out on a running board, at this beginning stage, nothing is concrete.

Sometimes this creation process can evolve over a long time, or, in others, it could go from a spark of an idea to the first draft complete, in a month.

Like the novel I’m going to write over the course of the 365 days. Just yesterday I was working on the main character’s back story.