During my final editing of MUTINY I took care to add to the description of a character who is shady and rarely seen in public; one who tends to keep to the shadows, yet has a depth of purpose that others fail to attain. He is one deadly character and fully armed. Of course, I am referring to the submarine. Here is the revised paragraph, along with a photo that seemed to fit:
The Sub Leaves Kitsap
[A submarine slips ghost-like from Kitsap Naval Base, just a short ferry ride from Seattle. Forested shores and snowy peaks shroud its mission in secrecy. Captain Ted Cooper is in command on the bridge and his ramrod frame peers into the fading light of Puget Sound. Below him is over 500 feet of advanced engineering and weaponry – reaching 40 feet into the depths and propelled by efficient nuclear reactors. A crew of 150 highly-trained sailors are excited to be on patrol and are hunkered down to their duties.]
PS: The updated MUTINY is now available and Kindle will follow in a few days.
There’s an episode (Chapter 53) in MUTINY where two captains meet to discuss a special agent to help with an underwater mission. It’s a formal meeting, hosted by the Spanish captain who is hoping to impress his guest. As I was writing this piece is seemed natural to fall from formality into frolic. What unfolds is a seriously funny moment:
The Flying Fried Chicken
[He thrust his fork down. It punched through the duck and lodged in the table. He lifted his head high in laughter. “Now look what I’ve done – I’ve killed the golden duck.”
“Don’t you mean the golden goose?” Ted asked, unable to control himself.
“Ha, ha. Yes, I must be the goose that killed it.” He wrestled with his fork and it sprang free, flinging the duck over his shoulder. Lorenzo slapped his knee. “Did you see that? A new Olympic record for duck throwing. It must’ve traveled ten meters?”
“Oh,” Ted replied, wiping tears from his face. “I would suggest fifteen meters at a speed of twenty knots. You almost hit the waiter. He had to duck for the duck.”
The Spaniard lost control. His glass tipped and wine exploded from his lips in a spray that saturated the white tablecloth. The waiter moved to wipe him down.
“I guess we’re both ducks in the water now,” cried the Spaniard, breaking into a hyena laugh, and snorting each time he took a breath. He looked hilarious, with wine and food splattered down his dress shirt and an empty fork in his hand.]
I thought I had booked three nights in an Airbnb in Dubrovnik. It turned out I had only booked two. After searching the internet I couldn’t find accommodation for another night. The I remembered our taxi driver. When we arrived by boat in the harbor, he asked if we need a ride and we accepted. He not only took us to our booking but also helped lug our suitcases up a series of steps to get to it. I still had his card and gave him a call. Thankfully, he kindly offered us a room almost directly opposite an entrance to Dubrovnik old town. My wife and I had a great conversation with our host and discovered that he dived for squid and supplied it to many restaurants. Which is why he was perfect for another character in my book – Nikolai:
[Maria was unaware of Nikolai’s clandestine work. She put his secrecy down to the fact that he grew up without a father figure and had developed a tough shell around his working life. Her heart yearned for more affection from a husband who was too deep to fathom.
Nikolai had secrets and loved the outdoors and the sea. His broad shoulders and powerful legs helped him snorkel and free dive for underwater delicacies. He was a dark, leather-skinned Croatian who knew every reef and rock pool along the rugged coast, and where to catch good squid and lobster. The best restaurants paid him well for his fresh seafood.]
It’s always fun to draw on our relationships for character development.
During my teaching stint in the USA I managed to attend quite a few conferences. The ISTE is an international one for teachers and I was presenting a short workshop along with a colleague – Allan Dunn – at the large convention center in San Diego. Over 12,000 teachers attended and Allan and I managed to achieve an award at the event for our breakout session. I never imagined that this experience at a large gathering would surface in my novel, but it dovetailed rather well into the plot development.
The experience of presenting and arranging speakers during my career in Information Technology (ISTE, NCCE et al) helped me create the scene in MUTINY (Chapter 23) where Michael Hanover delivers his keynote to bankers in Frankfurt:
The lecture room was not large from Michael’s experience. He remembered addressing a hall of over twelve thousand educators at the San Diego Convention Center three years earlier. Michael received a Best Presenter Award for a slick delivery about investing, peppered with case studies and raw humor. After a long year of teaching, the audience was ready to be entertained and Michael made the right impact. The applause rang in his ears all the way home to New York.
….
“Sound check; 1, 2, 3.”
“There’s quite an echo, don’t you think?”
“Don’t worry, Dr. Hanover. When the room fills with people, the reverb will be perfect. The doors open at 9:15 and you start in forty-five minutes. You can wait in the Green Room where refreshments are available. If there is anything else you need, Dr. Hanover, please let me know.”
In Chapter 73, Claudine meets up with Ravi, a grad student at MIT. Ravi is a computer geek and much of the detail here is from my time teaching in Portland, OR. with high school students. I ran a computer class and one of my students was very clever indeed. Ravi is a projected image of this student, mixed with my time in Sri Lanka. In terms of MUTINY this is a chapter that pauses the action and provides detail that will surface later in an unexpected way. Meanwhile, sit back – relax – and let the moment at MIT soak in…
Killian Court, MIT
[They continued chatting as they walked through Killian Court and down a path towards the Charles River.
“Look,” exclaimed Ravi. A rowing eight moved like an arrow, their oars dipping in unison, smooth and composed, blade tips flashing white. The hull lifted as the blades gripped the water, then settled back when the oars came up for air.
“Beautiful and mathematical…so much elliptical rhythm…a sport in poetic motion,” muttered Ravi, his eyes following every stroke. He was working on a formula for the loci of the blades – interlocked and flattened ellipses?
Claudine interrupted. “What’s on your mind?” she asked, as the skiff vanished around a bend downstream.
“I was watching the rowers and it reminded me of a book I read, called ‘Boys in the Boat’.”
“I don’t understand?
“The story is a true story about a ragtag rowing crew from the University of Washington. The young boys were mainly farmers and had never been in a skiff before. After long hours of training, they discover a place where their rowing is almost effortless, reaching a place of beauty and fluid motion that transcends effort. They grow into an unbeatable Olympic team with each rower working in unison with the other. The boat responds by seemingly flying along and defying the water resistance.”
“Do you know,” said Claudine, with her arm on his, “that I also dream to have a team working for me like that one day.”
“I’m sure you will,” he replied. “What work do you do?”
“Oh, just film and underwater cinematography. We’re a small company based in Trieste.”
Ravi laughed. “I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t come all this way to talk about movies.”
She paused and watched the rowers for a while, unsure what to say. When she did, it was, “Why MIT, Ravi?”
He remembered the day as vividly as the question; a warm, fall day with crumpled leaves splashed across the campus lawns, and the institute’s pale dome appearing to be on fire in the New England sunset. It was a day that seemed to stand still, lost in a space-time vacuum, until it was broken by her voice.
“Why MIT?” she repeated.]
Why indeed. I suggest you invest in MUTINY to discover the answer for yourself.
I was teaching at a high school and we had a unique student. The Year 9 boy (Freshman) was a genius and doing university Mathematics while staying with his age group. I happened to bump into him as he was leaving the math exam room and asked, “How did the paper go?” He looked distraught and replied, “Not too well. I think I lost two marks.” Sure enough, when the results came out he had a score of 98%. Rather than being thrilled with his result, he bemoaned the 2% he had got wrong. Some writers are like that – they worry about the 2% – the few mistakes that creep into a plot, or grammatical errors that they should’ve corrected. I’m coming to the sad conclusion that I’m like that. Every time I pick up MUTINY I can find room for improving the script. And, that’s what I’m doing right now – making small corrections, changing a POV or replacing repeated words, etc. before I send off for Kindle formatting. Will my care to correct or improve the manuscript make a difference? I doubt it, but I hope the book will be more readable and gain fewer critics. But, I’m worried that I must repeat this process again after a year or two. For example, MUTINY deals at some length with Artificial Intelligence. This rapidly changing field might result in some aspects of MUTINY becoming out-of-date. I read a news article today that reported an AI company who developed an agent that found flaws in all major software systems:
[Anthropic developed an AI model named Claude Mythos Preview (also referred to as “Mythos” or “Capybara” during development) which demonstrated the capability to autonomously discover thousands of zero-day vulnerabilities across all major operating systems, web browsers, and critical software systems.]
I felt compelled to include this detail for my manuscript – it fitted the plot perfectly. Oh the joys of writing about such a fast-changing world. At least I have avoided political or military time-stamps that would date MUTINY, therefore keeping mistakes to 1%?
I’m never asked about ‘writers’ block’ because my friends assume it never happens. They’re holding a copy of MUTINY and are surprised by the weight. I guess it’s the 388pp of text that gives it some bulk and I’m waiting for a comment, such as “How long did it take to write this?” But, nobody ever asks, so I have to tell them. “Oh, it took me six years to write.” There’s hardly a reaction, though a short pause and raising of eyebrows. I add, “There were moments when I couldn’t write,” and mention COVID and times when I wanted to throw the manuscript against a wall (difficult to do with my laptop). The question remains – did I ever get writers’ block and, if so, how did I cope with it?
Step 1: give the manuscript a break. Take a long walk, get refreshed, focus on something else, grab a coffee, exercise and meet people. You never know, but you might see something or hear a conversation that inspires your next words. Step 2: when I’m ready and can face it, I pick up and read over the last chapter and wait and pray for the inspiration to continue. Step 3: write the next paragraph or two, or three, or the full chapter 🙂
I find it can take days to unblock a writers’ block. Others can force themselves through the stalemate and type away happily. Stephen King always says – when faced with writers’ block – “that’s when you introduce the man with the gun.” I need time to work out where the plot is going. In writing 3 WISE MEN I was doing some high school teaching and had a spare hour between classes. During this time I typed up the next chapter following a long difficult block in my thoughts. And the words just flowed, with a surprising plot outcome that readers still mention to me years later. And, it was a Stephen King moment of much action; a radical event in the plot that transformed the ending.
I have learned the value in resting and waiting for the next steps to unravel during my personal writer’s blocks. Now I don’t get frustrated by these moments, but somewhat excited to see what will follow. After all, a writers’ block is an opportunity to change direction, escape the norm and reorganise thoughts, characters and outcomes. That’s the excitement of writing novels!
As BA-491 climbs north over the Mediterranean, I catch a glimpse of The Rock of Gibraltar shrouded in clouds. My thoughts are clouded too and I’m not looking forward to a lonely Christmas in my flat. How safe will I be from the sinister characters who scared me when I left? That’s another puzzle to solve.
So starts Chapter 81 and I’m nearing the end of MUTINY. “Another puzzle to solve” keeps me guessing and I do tease my readers like this from time to time – but not too much to tire them. Will this puzzle be solved? Aha, that’s for you to discover!
I was having a debate with myself about the creative process of writing and how much an outside editor et al can influence a manuscript. For example, MUTINY had three main Beta Readers and their input was invaluable and I respected their views. I also had two external, professional editors – who brought extensive publishing experience with them. While I valued their respective views, I had to be careful not to let their ‘style’ dictate my own. Don’t get me wrong – they were worth every penny and would use them again. They gave practical guidance on obvious errors – both grammatical and plot-related. I’m pleased that the self-publishing route is one for writers to preserve their ‘own voice’ rather than have it restricted by editorial interference. For this reason, I am reluctant to offer critique of another writer’s work – simply because my suggestions may conflict with theirs. For example, here is one comment I made on a colleague’s novel:
[Dear xxx, Thanks again for this opportunity to enjoy your detailed story-telling, with shades of many shady characters thrown in. It makes me wonder whether NZ breeds them in response to a gullible culture? Some locations/brands may not be well known to readers – e.g. Mangere, Fonterra, Calais? A super-personal comment. I would love to see more dialogue being used to show action/emotions, etc.
‘The following Sunday the two young women drove into the carpark at the community centre and were immediately struck by the warm greeting of the two handsome young men who were at thedoor and warmly shook hands with them. One of them even commented on what beautiful red hair Lizzie had. While Lizzie was soaking up the attention Rosemary also noticed two young men on the door and two very attractive young women from the same team who were focusing on greeting the young men who came in.’ (Remove some of the repeats?)]
I was exhausted after finishing my comments and I doubt they made much difference. Therefore, I prefer to just write and not correct other writers. I would be a lousy member of any writing circle though I do enjoy people sharing how a novel (or writing sample) makes them feel. When my sister had finished MUTINY I wanted to know how it made her feel. She said, “I like an ending that finishes on a note of completion. And I enjoyed it when someone went to withdraw from the ATM.”
My wife and I first visited England in late December, close to Christmas. It was our first time in Europe, back in 2013. We had only a few days with our random rellies and managed some time in London, viewing the sights. One day started clear and warm but, within a few hours, had turned cool. The chills crept through our clothing and we were damp and frozen by sunset. I wonder if this winter visit was the reason for casting MUTINY in the same season? I think so. Winter worked well to call upon this experience when the protagonist meets up with his handler, Sir Donald Bradford, at the watering hole for MI6. The end of the year heralds a mellowing moment for my protagonist as he confronts his retirement. The action begs the question, is any retirement ever a cause célèbre?
[Sir Donald holds a new match to his pipe, and looks out to Hans Place Garden. I follow his gaze. Misty rain drifts in sheets over the street lamps. Dickens would love this weather but I detest it. The trees have shed their coats, spreading a soggy carpet of brown and yellow along the lane, and limp leaves are stuck fast to parked cars. While Sir Donald attends to his pipe I silently recall Milton’s eloquent words:
‘Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forced fingers rude
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.’
It’s been a mellowing end to a mellowed career.]
Update: I have just shipped the final version of MUTINY to our lovely friends in England.
