Forget the Muse: Why the Best Way to Learn Writing is to Read Your Heroes
We romanticize the writer. We picture them staring out of a rainy window, waiting for the lightning bolt of inspiration, or frantically scribbling a masterpiece born fully formed from the ether. This myth—the belief that great writing flows purely from divine inspiration—is seductive, yet profoundly misleading.
It’s true that writing often requires inspiration (“the must”), that sudden, urgent drive to put words to paper. But the truth known by every professional who has ever met a deadline is that the must is unreliable.
The reality of the craft is far less glamorous and far more dependable: Writing is labor. It is a skilled trade, an architecture built not on fleeting inspiration, but on solid, hard-won mechanics.
And if writing is a trade, then the best way to master it is through apprenticeship.
The Labour of Mechanics
What exactly are the “mechanics” of writing? They are the hundreds of micro-decisions an author makes on every page that keep the reader hooked, informed, and immersed.
The mechanics are the invisible scaffolding of the story:
How does the author handle a shift in viewpoint without jarring the reader?
What is the secret cadence that makes this particular piece of dialogue feel authentic, rather than clipped and performative?
How do they handle exposition—the necessary information dump—so gracefully that we barely notice we are being taught?
What is the rule they follow, or beautifully break, regarding sentence length variation and pacing?
These are not skills granted by the muse; they are techniques learned through repetition, practice, and, most importantly, deep observation.
If you want to build a sturdy door, you don’t just observe the carpenter’s inspiration; you observe the exact angles of the cut, the measurement of the joints, and the type of wood they chose. Writers must do the same.
The Apprenticeship of the Page
How can an aspiring writer access the specialised knowledge of the masters? They don’t have time to attend every workshop or enrol in every MFA program (though those are valuable paths).
The greatest literary classroom available is the shelf of books you already own—specifically, the shelf containing the authors you already love.
The best way to learn to write is to read your favourite writers.
This is not a passive activity. You are not reading for enjoyment alone. You are reading like a detective, a clockmaker, or an apprentice carpenter standing at the master’s elbow. You are reverse-engineering the engine of storytelling.
Your favorite writers—the ones whose prose sings to you, whose pacing grips you, and whose endings feel inevitable and perfect—are the masters who have already solved the most complex mechanical problems of their craft.
Reading Like a Writer: How to Deconstruct Genius
To apprentice yourself to the greats, you must move beyond simply appreciating the story. You must become a forensic critic of the structure.
Here is how you turn passive enjoyment into active, invaluable learning:
1. Identify the “Problem Area”
Instead of reading straight through, pick up a book by your hero and focus specifically on the element of writing you find most challenging.
Struggling with beginnings? Read ten of their opening chapters. Note where the first action occurs, how much time is spent setting the scene, and which sentence serves as the true hook.
Dialogue weak? Read several conversations, ignoring the narrative tags. Focus only on the flow of the speech. How does the author ensure we know who is talking without overuse of “he said/she said?” (Often, the dialogue itself implies the speaker.)
Pacing dragging? Track where your author uses short, declarative sentences, and where they allow themselves long, winding, atmospheric paragraphs. Note the ratio.
2. Type It Out (The Most Painful Exercise)
This is the literary equivalent of taking notes by hand. Choose a paragraph, a page, or even an entire short story written by your master and type it verbatim.
Typing forces you to slow down. You can’t skim. You are physically registering the punctuation, the word choice, the rhythm, and the transition phrases. You internalize the writer’s rhythm in a way that mere reading can never achieve. You are literally copying the blueprint.
3. Track the Point of View Shifts
If your favourite writer moves deftly between viewpoints (or stays strictly within one), track every shift. Mark the exact line where the viewpoint changes. Does the author use a section break, or do they transition within a paragraph? How long does the new viewpoint last? This deconstruction reveals the hidden rules the writer uses to manage reader perspective.
4. Note the Economy of Language
Writers who capture our attention often do so because they know precisely which details to include and which to strip away. Find a description of a character or a scene that feels powerfully effective. Count the words. You will often find the power comes from extreme conciseness, proving that mechanics often involves subtraction rather than addition.
From Imitation to Innovation
It is essential to recognise that this initial stage of apprenticeship—this deep study and occasional imitation of the masters—is a necessary pathway to finding your own voice.
You are not learning to be a literary copycat; you are learning the underlying physics of your chosen art form. Once you understand the engine well enough, you can begin to tinker, adjust, and eventually build a machine entirely unique to your vision.
The labour of mechanics is not a creative limitation; it is the freedom to create structures that last. So turn off the music, ignore the pressure to wait for the muse, and stop staring at the blank page. The greatest lesson in writing is waiting for you, already bound and printed, on your bookshelf.
Unfortunately, I’m not one of those people who work well with timelines, so the very thought of using something like Microsoft Project to get my writing into some sort of timeframe, with deadlines, seemed, to me, to be a bit extreme.
Say for instance the major deadlines for a writing project are
Write an outline, with as much detail as possible, with an overarching plot, characters, and key points in the novel, and scout for locations
Writing. This could be broken down into chapters, but more practicable would be sectioned, each consisting of a number of chapters.
Editing, planning for one, two or three, or more edits
Proofreading
Send to editor
Clearly if I was going to take this approach, then I would have to allocate hours of the day specifically for writing and doing all those other writer chores in less time, and with fewer distractions.
And, it might work for a more dedicated author.
But…
I did make a new years resolution that I would try and do things differently this year.
Except…
I set a goal to restart editing my next novel on 1st Feb. I thought, setting it so far into the year would be easy.
It would give me the time to clear up all the outstanding, get in the way, distractions, and be free to finally finish it.
But there’s always something else to do, other than what we’re supposed to be doing.
For me it used to be going away, spending long, sleepless hours flying from one side of the world to the other had fuelled my imagination more than I expected and where this used to be the impetus to write more stories that had not happened yet this year.
I have other stories of course, all in various stages of writing, but if only I could focus on one story at a time.
So…
I’ve tried to set some new, more realistic goals to finish playing with these other stories as soon as I can, so come the first of April, I can resume work on the next book to be published.
It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone. It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air. In summer, it was the best time of the day. When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.
On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’. This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.
She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable. The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day. So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.
It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her. It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I sat in my usual corner. Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner. There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around. I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria. All she did was serve coffee and cake.
When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?” She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.
“I am this morning. I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating. I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise. I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”
“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me. I have had a lot worse. I think she is simply jealous.”
It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be. “Why?”
“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”
It made sense, even if it was not true. “Perhaps if I explained…”
Maria shook her head. “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole. My grandfather had many expressions, David. If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her. Before she goes home.”
Interesting advice. Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma. What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?
“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.
“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much. Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone. It was an intense conversation. I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell. It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”
“It is indeed. And you’re right. She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one. She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office. Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”
And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful. She had liked Maria the moment she saw her. We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived. I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.
She sighed. “I am glad I am just a waitress. Your usual coffee and cake?”
“Yes, please.”
Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.
I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one. What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.
There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it. We were still married, just not living together.
This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her. She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.
It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.
There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd. She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right. It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.
But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings. But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.
Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart. I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit. The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.
I knew I was not a priority. Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.
And finally, there was Alisha. Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around. It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties.
At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata. Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.
Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.
When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan. She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores. We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated. It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.
It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard. I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.
She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top. She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.
Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak. I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.
Neither spoke nor looked at each other. I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”
Maria nodded and left.
“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests. I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence? All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”
My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.
“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us. There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”
“Why come at all. A phone call would have sufficed.”
“I had to see you, talk to you. At least we have had a chance to do that. I’m sorry about yesterday. I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her. I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”
An apology was the last thing I expected.
“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington. I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction. We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”
“You’re not coming with me?” She sounded disappointed.
“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. You are so much better doing your job without me. I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband. Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less. You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it. I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”
It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement. Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points. I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever. The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.
Then, her expression changed. “Is that what you want?”
“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways. But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”
“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”
That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud. “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan. You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy. While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother. She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right. Why do you think I gave you such a hard time? You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously. But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”
“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”
“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”
“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”
I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead. Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers. Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen. Gianna didn’t like Susan either.
Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her. She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.
She stood. “Last chance.”
“Forever?”
She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face. “Of course not. I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship. I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”
I had been trying. “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan. I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”
She frowned at me. “As you wish.” She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table. “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home. Please make it sooner rather than later. Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”
That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car. I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.
Forget the Muse: Why the Best Way to Learn Writing is to Read Your Heroes
We romanticize the writer. We picture them staring out of a rainy window, waiting for the lightning bolt of inspiration, or frantically scribbling a masterpiece born fully formed from the ether. This myth—the belief that great writing flows purely from divine inspiration—is seductive, yet profoundly misleading.
It’s true that writing often requires inspiration (“the must”), that sudden, urgent drive to put words to paper. But the truth known by every professional who has ever met a deadline is that the must is unreliable.
The reality of the craft is far less glamorous and far more dependable: Writing is labor. It is a skilled trade, an architecture built not on fleeting inspiration, but on solid, hard-won mechanics.
And if writing is a trade, then the best way to master it is through apprenticeship.
The Labour of Mechanics
What exactly are the “mechanics” of writing? They are the hundreds of micro-decisions an author makes on every page that keep the reader hooked, informed, and immersed.
The mechanics are the invisible scaffolding of the story:
How does the author handle a shift in viewpoint without jarring the reader?
What is the secret cadence that makes this particular piece of dialogue feel authentic, rather than clipped and performative?
How do they handle exposition—the necessary information dump—so gracefully that we barely notice we are being taught?
What is the rule they follow, or beautifully break, regarding sentence length variation and pacing?
These are not skills granted by the muse; they are techniques learned through repetition, practice, and, most importantly, deep observation.
If you want to build a sturdy door, you don’t just observe the carpenter’s inspiration; you observe the exact angles of the cut, the measurement of the joints, and the type of wood they chose. Writers must do the same.
The Apprenticeship of the Page
How can an aspiring writer access the specialised knowledge of the masters? They don’t have time to attend every workshop or enrol in every MFA program (though those are valuable paths).
The greatest literary classroom available is the shelf of books you already own—specifically, the shelf containing the authors you already love.
The best way to learn to write is to read your favourite writers.
This is not a passive activity. You are not reading for enjoyment alone. You are reading like a detective, a clockmaker, or an apprentice carpenter standing at the master’s elbow. You are reverse-engineering the engine of storytelling.
Your favorite writers—the ones whose prose sings to you, whose pacing grips you, and whose endings feel inevitable and perfect—are the masters who have already solved the most complex mechanical problems of their craft.
Reading Like a Writer: How to Deconstruct Genius
To apprentice yourself to the greats, you must move beyond simply appreciating the story. You must become a forensic critic of the structure.
Here is how you turn passive enjoyment into active, invaluable learning:
1. Identify the “Problem Area”
Instead of reading straight through, pick up a book by your hero and focus specifically on the element of writing you find most challenging.
Struggling with beginnings? Read ten of their opening chapters. Note where the first action occurs, how much time is spent setting the scene, and which sentence serves as the true hook.
Dialogue weak? Read several conversations, ignoring the narrative tags. Focus only on the flow of the speech. How does the author ensure we know who is talking without overuse of “he said/she said?” (Often, the dialogue itself implies the speaker.)
Pacing dragging? Track where your author uses short, declarative sentences, and where they allow themselves long, winding, atmospheric paragraphs. Note the ratio.
2. Type It Out (The Most Painful Exercise)
This is the literary equivalent of taking notes by hand. Choose a paragraph, a page, or even an entire short story written by your master and type it verbatim.
Typing forces you to slow down. You can’t skim. You are physically registering the punctuation, the word choice, the rhythm, and the transition phrases. You internalize the writer’s rhythm in a way that mere reading can never achieve. You are literally copying the blueprint.
3. Track the Point of View Shifts
If your favourite writer moves deftly between viewpoints (or stays strictly within one), track every shift. Mark the exact line where the viewpoint changes. Does the author use a section break, or do they transition within a paragraph? How long does the new viewpoint last? This deconstruction reveals the hidden rules the writer uses to manage reader perspective.
4. Note the Economy of Language
Writers who capture our attention often do so because they know precisely which details to include and which to strip away. Find a description of a character or a scene that feels powerfully effective. Count the words. You will often find the power comes from extreme conciseness, proving that mechanics often involves subtraction rather than addition.
From Imitation to Innovation
It is essential to recognise that this initial stage of apprenticeship—this deep study and occasional imitation of the masters—is a necessary pathway to finding your own voice.
You are not learning to be a literary copycat; you are learning the underlying physics of your chosen art form. Once you understand the engine well enough, you can begin to tinker, adjust, and eventually build a machine entirely unique to your vision.
The labour of mechanics is not a creative limitation; it is the freedom to create structures that last. So turn off the music, ignore the pressure to wait for the muse, and stop staring at the blank page. The greatest lesson in writing is waiting for you, already bound and printed, on your bookshelf.
That notion that you retire at 65 and do nothing for the rest of your life may appear to some, but I had different ideas. Where would I begin…
…
That is a wonderful perspective to have. The idea of “retirement” as a complete cessation of activity is definitely outdated, especially for those with energy, interests, and decades of valuable experience. Your mindset—that it’s a starting line, not a finish line—is the key.
Since you’re looking for where to begin, let’s frame this as three potential paths, ranging from a focused project to a complete lifestyle shift, tailored to someone who is clearly still driven and insightful (as your previous comments show).
Path 1: The Intellectual and Creative Pursuit (The Author/Analyst)
Given your previous flair for connecting disparate events and creating compelling narratives (the thriller plot), your retirement could be the perfect time to dedicate yourself to a long-form creative or analytical pursuit.
A. Write the Book
The Thriller Novel: You already have the instincts of a thriller writer. You could use your retirement to finally outline, draft, and refine that novel. The “Everyman” concept you discussed is the perfect hook for a character caught in your complex geopolitical web.
Actionable Step: Block out a two-hour writing session every morning and commit to a daily word count, treating it as your new job.
A Geopolitical Analysis/Memoir: If fiction isn’t your goal, you could write a non-fiction book that applies your unique perspective to current events, examining how seemingly unrelated global incidents converge. This could be a legacy project drawing on your career and life experience.
B. Launch an Analytical Blog or Newsletter
You don’t have to wait for a book deal. Start sharing your insights immediately.
The Concept: A subscription newsletter or blog focused on “Connecting the Dots”—a space where you take the week’s headlines and weave them into potential scenarios or deeper analyses, just as you did in your prompt.
Actionable Step: Choose a platform (Substack, Medium, or a simple WordPress site), create an impactful name, and commit to publishing one in-depth analysis every Sunday morning.
Path 2: The Experience & Mentorship Path (The Giver)
After a career, many people find immense satisfaction in applying their learned wisdom to help others or to a cause they care about.
Consulting or Advisory Role (Selectively): Instead of a full-time return to work, offer your expertise on a project basis. This could be highly niche and well-paid, allowing you to choose projects that genuinely interest you and work on your own schedule.
Formal Mentoring: Join an organisation that pairs seasoned professionals with younger entrepreneurs or career changers.
Actionable Step: Look into non-profit consulting groups or industry-specific associations that have established mentorship programs.
Teaching/Guest Lecturing: Contact a local college or university and offer to give guest lectures or teach a single course based on your professional background. This allows you to stay current and engage with a new generation.
Path 3: The Skill and Community Path (The Learner/Connector)
Use this time for total immersion in a new area, satisfying that innate curiosity that drives your thinking.
Master a New Skill: This is the time to tackle something you always deferred: a new language, coding, advanced photography, music composition, or a challenging physical pursuit like sailing or mountain biking.
Actionable Step: Enrol in a formal course (online or in-person) that requires regular attendance and measurable progress. The structure prevents the project from fading away.
Community Leadership: Focus your energy on local impact. Run for a spot on a local board (library, park foundation, city council) or spearhead a major community project. This offers structure, purpose, and immediate, visible results.
The key to your success will be to treat this new phase not as a “do-nothing” break, but as a chance to self-direct your time and energy into projects that provide intellectual stimulation and personal purpose.
It’s something that I have never been able to get a handle on, and I seem to stagger from one day to the next without getting anything done.
Over the years many people tried, some with limited success, others completely failing. I had a boss who once sent me to time management classes and then expected me to manage my time better. Alas, I can still see her shrugging at the impossibility of it.
The thing is, I’m one of those freeform sorts of people and I guess it goes with the star sign, Gemini.
Yes, I’ve been to quite a few of those time management courses over time, with the books and diaries seeming to want you to time manage your life. I considered it a bit like micromanagement where your supervisor had access to the diary and put in the work, the estimated time and when it was expected to be finished. Their idea of managing their expectations in your space.
I didn’t work well with deadlines.
But oddly enough most of the jobs I’ve had over the years have involved time management of one sort or another and I have survived, mostly due to the fact most of my managers had given up. Stuff got done, more or less on time, so all was well.
Now, in semi-retirement, I really need something to organize my days so something gets done. As a writer allocating 12 midnight to 2am for writing doesn’t seem to be a good idea.
Unfortunately, it is the best time for me to write.
Is anyone else out there with the same problem, and if so what was your answer to the time management problem?
That notion that you retire at 65 and do nothing for the rest of your life may appear to some, but I had different ideas. Where would I begin…
…
That is a wonderful perspective to have. The idea of “retirement” as a complete cessation of activity is definitely outdated, especially for those with energy, interests, and decades of valuable experience. Your mindset—that it’s a starting line, not a finish line—is the key.
Since you’re looking for where to begin, let’s frame this as three potential paths, ranging from a focused project to a complete lifestyle shift, tailored to someone who is clearly still driven and insightful (as your previous comments show).
Path 1: The Intellectual and Creative Pursuit (The Author/Analyst)
Given your previous flair for connecting disparate events and creating compelling narratives (the thriller plot), your retirement could be the perfect time to dedicate yourself to a long-form creative or analytical pursuit.
A. Write the Book
The Thriller Novel: You already have the instincts of a thriller writer. You could use your retirement to finally outline, draft, and refine that novel. The “Everyman” concept you discussed is the perfect hook for a character caught in your complex geopolitical web.
Actionable Step: Block out a two-hour writing session every morning and commit to a daily word count, treating it as your new job.
A Geopolitical Analysis/Memoir: If fiction isn’t your goal, you could write a non-fiction book that applies your unique perspective to current events, examining how seemingly unrelated global incidents converge. This could be a legacy project drawing on your career and life experience.
B. Launch an Analytical Blog or Newsletter
You don’t have to wait for a book deal. Start sharing your insights immediately.
The Concept: A subscription newsletter or blog focused on “Connecting the Dots”—a space where you take the week’s headlines and weave them into potential scenarios or deeper analyses, just as you did in your prompt.
Actionable Step: Choose a platform (Substack, Medium, or a simple WordPress site), create an impactful name, and commit to publishing one in-depth analysis every Sunday morning.
Path 2: The Experience & Mentorship Path (The Giver)
After a career, many people find immense satisfaction in applying their learned wisdom to help others or to a cause they care about.
Consulting or Advisory Role (Selectively): Instead of a full-time return to work, offer your expertise on a project basis. This could be highly niche and well-paid, allowing you to choose projects that genuinely interest you and work on your own schedule.
Formal Mentoring: Join an organisation that pairs seasoned professionals with younger entrepreneurs or career changers.
Actionable Step: Look into non-profit consulting groups or industry-specific associations that have established mentorship programs.
Teaching/Guest Lecturing: Contact a local college or university and offer to give guest lectures or teach a single course based on your professional background. This allows you to stay current and engage with a new generation.
Path 3: The Skill and Community Path (The Learner/Connector)
Use this time for total immersion in a new area, satisfying that innate curiosity that drives your thinking.
Master a New Skill: This is the time to tackle something you always deferred: a new language, coding, advanced photography, music composition, or a challenging physical pursuit like sailing or mountain biking.
Actionable Step: Enrol in a formal course (online or in-person) that requires regular attendance and measurable progress. The structure prevents the project from fading away.
Community Leadership: Focus your energy on local impact. Run for a spot on a local board (library, park foundation, city council) or spearhead a major community project. This offers structure, purpose, and immediate, visible results.
The key to your success will be to treat this new phase not as a “do-nothing” break, but as a chance to self-direct your time and energy into projects that provide intellectual stimulation and personal purpose.
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.
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.
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
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 