If There Is No Blog Post Here…

It is taking me much longer than I had hoped to work through the final bits of (what I lightheartedly like to call) my, uh, personal “Gone With The Wind”:

Working Covers, Conventions: The Garden At Paris.
Working Covers, Conventions: The Garden At Paris.

As a consequence I know I haven’t really had the time to write posts here as usual in recent weeks. But no writer should ever cut him/herself off entirely. I always find some time (mornings especially) to read blogs and check social media – especially Instagram.

I like Instagram because it’s fun. And it’s a necessary distraction at times. I can’t get over the stuff some people post.

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Thoughts For This Sunday

I was away for a few days. I’d driven down to stay with my (increasingly frail) in-laws in London while my wife is in Portugal. My main task was to help with dog walking:

Naturally, I transported my vital technology to set myself up to write there when I could.

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“There’s The Girl”

A bit of an “unserious” post at times. It’s Wednesday. A brief change of pace.

We sat through Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, on Sunday night.

I like science fiction. I like superheroes. I like being entertained.

But while watching too often I found myself asking: What the heck is going on?

The film is based on the characters from the famous comics, of course. As I watched, it dawned on me as well that lots of books today are also rooted in the supernatural or the essentially “unbelievable.” The number of indie authors alone who write fantasy – and often really good stuff, too – is enormous.

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The Notebook

Happy Monday!

Back on Friday morning, writing a bit in the cold of the house waiting for the heat to be restored, I was penning a “three-way” argument. Suddenly one of the characters is shouting at another. After I finished, a continuity issue hit me: I realized in the shouting I had gotten carried away and forgot that character had also just blurted out a secret not meant for the third person in the room to hear – as of then.

It was meant to be revealed LATER in the tale. Yet as I thought about it, I loved the accident that I had accidentally just written; that the secret had been let out of the bag in a fit of temper. That sort of thing can happen in our own real lives, of course.

It read as wonderfully genuine. So I jumped forward and scrubbed the later revelation of that secret (a scene which I had, frankly, never really liked). Writing mistakes sometimes can be your “friend.”

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A Chilly English Winter Morning

I was writing yesterday late morning when I noticed no heat was on and the house had started to feel cool. Venturing downstairs from my office, I discovered the boiler was out. Next I saw gas workers outside.

National Grid to the rescue yesterday. [Photo by me, 2016.]
National Grid to the rescue yesterday. [Photo by me, 2016.]

There was a gas problem on the high street and National Grid had turned up with what seemed like a dozen vehicles. They’d had to shut off service to quite a few houses. Water from a burst pipe up the road earlier somehow got into the main gas pipe.

“Uh, not good,” one of the workers told me.

“So this is the water company’s fault,” I laughed.

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This Writer’s Yesterday

What do novelists do all day? My uncle had told me any writer gets asked that question regularly. So I thought that I’d try to explain what this one did … yesterday.

Now that the holidays are over, I have no excuses. I’ve decided to target finishing Conventions by the end of January. We’ll see if I can live up to that; but planting a timescale flag is necessary or one is apt to drift. However, even if I can manage that, with all that follows after the last word is “officially” written, it will not be available probably before March.

As you may know I try to write a blog post here five or so times a week. But as you may have also noticed I have fallen off that pace recently as I have found myself working increasingly on the last stages of the book. To give you all a morning wave, yesterday I chose Instagram:

It was not a great weather morning here early yesterday as well. So I posted that Knebworth Park summer photo. (But the sun did come out eventually during the day.) Not long after I’d posted it, I was off and running…

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Message For “The Elite”

I’m home again in England from America. (As you probably know, I was born in New York.) We had a busy Christmas, with a small mob from this side of the Atlantic flying over to stay with us in the Catskills. It feels kinda odd being back here:

Heathrow Airport, Terminal 5, arrivals concourse yesterday morning. [Photo by me, 2017.]
Heathrow Airport, Terminal 5, arrivals concourse yesterday morning. [Photo by me, 2017.]

Fighting jet lag, in trying to force myself to stay awake last night I went through my Instagram feed slowly. What did I miss while flying? I checked up on what had been “going on” while I had been traveling and out of contact with you “guys.”

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First Class Christmas

For Christmas, we flew to Newark yesterday from Heathrow. We decided to make this trip special.

We used Avios (BA air miles) and went first class. I grabbed that photo above in the Concorde lounge “outside” deck at Heathrow. And naturally, as we all do nowadays, I put it on Instagram.

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The Voice

I know I caught out Instagram friends last night:

And I realized I had to do the same here! πŸ™‚

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“I really do not understand this child…”

Over in the U.S., a cousin’s daughter has been writing free fiction anonymously on various online sites. Apparently she – she’s about age 20 – receives lots of “likes” and approval. I’ve not seen any of it (I’m not even sure if my cousin has), and I know only what my cousin has told me about her daughter’s writing.

My cousin and I are about the same age. We grew up together, but had drifted somewhat apart – geographically as well as in life – in our later twenties. Thankfully, we “found” each other in a day to day manner again upon the death of my mother in 2015.

Out of the blue, she messaged me the other day frantically seeking Christmas present advice:

Screen capture of Messenger.
Screen capture of Messenger.

As you see, I went all emoji in my initial closing response.

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