The Massive Varnished Boom

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From an earlier post; “Once, I had to duck under a massive varnished boom stretching right across the boardwalk. It’s fun to feel part of the action.”

This post sat without comment for a while. Was this a tease? Probably. Let me explain. Why would I write “…a massive varnished boom stretching right across the boardwalk”? If it stretches all the way across a boardwalk it is, by implication, “massive.” So, of course, in the final draft I left the word “massive” out of the description. Sorry, reader, but I got you on that post? Another problem with “massive” is that it is a relative term. You need to contrast it with something smaller. My description did not do that, so out it goes.

PS: It was important to describe the boom as “varnished” since this fits the wooden boat regatta. And, “It’s fun to feel part of the action” draws the reader into Claudine’s reaction to the event and the boom she needed to duck under. Removing “massive” was an easy task on this edit/review.

Women Love the Details

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I did wedding photography professionally for a few years to help earn enough money to keep our family going (and because I enjoyed the challenge and pressure of this most important day). After each photoshoot my wife would ask, “What was the bride wearing?” To which I replied at first with, “White.” After a while, I looked for more details in the dress and veil; the delicate lace, the patterns, the shape of the dress, etc. In writing, I too often gloss over important details. Why? Because they are not important, in my opinion, to the plot. However, for female reader, these details are very important. Conclusion? I am trying to add details where they are necessary and especially when a woman’s viewpoint is being expressed. An example from chapter 9 in my new novel follows.

[“Can you see the boats up close?”

“Oh yes, and it’s fun to browse the stalls alongside the Promenade de laCroisette. They sell anything from anchors to zodiacs. I bought a lovely silk top there last year and some powerful binoculars to help me get closer to the action. I love watching the collection of antique yachts. From the ground, their masts tower like giant pickup-sticks held together with bird nests of spreaders and stays. Once, I had to duck under a massive varnished boom stretching right across the boardwalk. It’s fun to feel part of the action.”

“And you should see the crews. Women loading snacks for a day at sea, looking prim and proper in matching caps. And the thighs of tanned men in tight whites, leaping over teak decks and hauling sails in sacks, is enough to,” she touches his arm. “To make a woman’s heart miss a beat.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“No, perhaps you don’t, but the Regatta Royale brings together men and women who desire the same thing.”

“Sex?”

“What is it about you men always having sex on your mind?”

“Not always,” says Karlo.

“No?”

He laughs. “No, if it’s not sex, it’s food.”]

The Dead Body and Coffee

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It was the newsflash – “Police have recovered a dead body from the Waikato River” – which got me thinking. Why was the body described as dead? We would assume it was dead if it was a “body” being recovered? Why not say, “Police have recovered a body from the Waikato River?”

I was having coffee yesterday with a friend of mine. We met at a cafe called Victoria’s. I love the fact that a cafe is named after someone; it is personal and warm, and popular during these school holidays. I arrived early, found the last table and checked my messages before my friend arrived. When he did, I offered to shout him a coffee. “Flat white,” he said. Mine was a latte. These details may not matter, but they could to a reader. Check out the saucer. It includes a sweet and uses old souvenir spoons. Homely and warm, just like our conversation. My friend had been a policeman for many years. When I asked him about the dead body he said. “You can also have a body of water?” I agreed, but would you have a body of water in the river?

When you write, little things like “a dead body” suddenly leap into importance. And, since all thrillers have bodies, this could be of utmost importance? I wondered about other body options;

“a body of dead water”

“a dead end”

“the grateful dead”

“dead unlucky”

“dead right”

“the dead of night”

When I went back to the news article, to include a link to it for this post, it had gone. So now I have a “Missing body” which I assume is also dead? Meanwhile, we enjoyed nice coffee—full-bodied coffee I might add.

 

Regaining the Excitement

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A writer (Jed Herne) mentioned that, at just over halfway through their novel, they found that the excitement had faded. That got me thinking about my new thriller. I thought the main plot was strong, but the ending not so. The trap for writers – and this is a personal view – is that getting the main action to a climax is a straightforward process, but finishing with an equally powerful flourish can be a challenge. In my case, one of my Beta Readers pointed out the weaknesses in my final chapters. I used this feedback to put a much better twist to the ending and, in a recent edit, added another chapter to link back to an earlier one and round out the finish. I smiled and I hope readers will too :-).

Flags of our Fathers

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Flags of Our Fathers (2000) is a book by James Bradley (with Ron Powers) about his father, Navy corpsman John Bradley, and five marines who were made famous by Joe Rosenthal’s iconic Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima photograph. In the DVD set of the movie there is wonderful, priceless material in the second DVD, when James Bradley discusses finding his father’s war memorabilia and notes—a discovery that inspired him to write the book. This treasure trove of information gave insight for James, and especially since his father rarely ever talked about the war. “He had a lot not to talk about,” says James. For me and my father, it was exactly the same.

My father (below) served in WWII as a Captain and spent time as a war photographer. I have all his war diaries and feel compelled to put his notes and photos into a book, but have yet to find a publisher. Anyway, that’s not the focus of this post. What is, is that my father was an avid writer, mainly of short stories, and many of these were published in a major newspaper. He also taught creative writing to adults and I can remember him being overjoyed when one of his students had her work published. As a teenager, I vividly remember dad pounding away on an electric typewriter, making corrections, and spending hours on his stories. His passion for writing and photography influenced my upbringing and I loved getting up early on cold, winter mornings to photograph valley mists and foggy landscapes—perfect for large black and white prints. 

When my father went into a rest home, most of his writing was lost or thrown out. As my own writing has progressed, I keep wondering what my father’s writing was like.

Just a week ago, my older sister passed on to me two of his complete stories and I am so thrilled to have them. He never raised a flag in WWII, but his flag flies high in my heart now that I am able to treasure his writing.

Playing with Words Again

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A moment in the mind of a writer. My first attempt was;

I long to escape the monotony of my desk in dreary London before winter sets in.
Deep down, I’m not happy with the ending. “…winter sets in.” It’s not powerful enough; not convincing me as a reader, so I try an alternative;
I long to escape the monotony of my desk in dreary London before winter closes in.
Yes. “…closes in.” has more impact and it’s something that winter does. The idea that winter ‘closes in’ suggests confinement and something worth escaping from. But, I’m still not convinced and come up with;
I long to escape the monotony of my desk in dreary London before winter traps me.
Ah, that’s better and more juxtaposed with “…escape…traps.” I don’t want to be trapped by winter, so now I have a good reason to want to escape it. After all, who wants to be trapped in London in winter?
I think I will stay with this change unless something better comes to mind. My wife and I have experienced the cold, damp winter conditions mentioned here. We had two days in London at Christmas. It started out fine and warm, but temperatures descended, along with drizzly rain, to soak our bodies and enthusiasm for this part of the world. Dickens described London as a magic lantern. London gave him his range of characters and fired his imagination, inspiring him to write. It helped me too.
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