Day 3 - Detente

My writing process when it comes to these challenges (if you're interested) is as follows:

a. Ponder. I do this quite a bit. Spinning the word or phrase of the day's challenge in my head, and going through the various possibilities that suggest themselves to me.

b. Moment of vague revelation. It's rare (although it does happen) that I have a complete Eureka! moment; instead, it's more like I'm fishing and snag on something below the surface. Something that I tug at, but not too hard in case it all falls apart as I try to bring it to the surface. Eventually it emerges and I have the whole thing vaguely held in my head.

c. Writing. I try to write my stories in one go. This isn't always possible; today I wrote the first two paragraphs on the train on the way to work, and the rest of it on the way back (I was still trying to snag it fully during those first few paragraphs; just sounding it out and making sure it was what I thought). I edit as I go but, since speed is of the essence in being able to get these challenges out there, I only generally skim through it and spot the most obvious of obvious errors. I tend to view it almost as a live performance; sure I might hit one or two wrong notes along the way but that's less important than the grand scheme of things...

d. Post. Cut and paste. Try to find a picture that goes with it. Share the link. 

What I'm finding with the writing challenge thus far is that the ideas are already starting to come a little more easily, are already bubbling to the surface almost unbidden. I'm not sure an awful lot of people will ever read any of these, but that doesn't really matter as I'm having fun! 

* * *

Al’s Diner had seen much better days. Back in the 1950s it was the place to be; attracting a car park full of kids wanting to enjoy burgers, shakes, and Al’s famous cherry pie; but it was a different era now, an era of smashed avocado, lattes, and berry birchers. The world had moved on, and Al’s Diner had been left behind. Paint peeling, neon sign cracked and broken, it was a testament to a bygone age. It was also neutral territory.

They had booked out the restaurant for the night. No staff, no service. Paid Al Jr. enough for it that he wouldn’t need another paying customer this year. It was perfectly located; out of town and away from the highway. The perfect place for sensitive negotiations.

They collected the keys from Al Jr. and watched him drive away. He didn’t look back. He’d hardly been able to make eye contact with them from the moment they’d first walked in on him in his back office, poring over a set of invoices he couldn’t hope to pay. He’d be sensible enough to realise that he should take the money and not ask any questions. Finally, with the place to themselves, they did a thorough sweep. It was always better to be safe than sorry. Then they settled down for the arrival of the second party.

There were four of them waiting at the table. They rarely ever gathered in one place like this, but times were changing and they had decided that they needed to change with it. Even if that meant arranging a sit down with those who they had traditionally opposed.

“You really think this will work?” asked the largest of them, his black suit stretched tight over his bulging torso.

“It has to,” said the thin one with a scowl, his black eyes glittering in the dim light, “The alternative is unthinkable.”

“Been a long time since we’ve talked,” said the oldest of the four, absently stroking his chin with his thumb and forefingers. “Even longer since we could be on the same page.”

“Boys,” said the woman at the head of the table, and they all went silent in deference to her. “We’ll give this a chance. See if we can make it work. We don’t like it. They don’t like it. Hell, even trying to arrange something like this would have been blasphemy not so long ago. But, I have faith we can reach a compromise.”

White light outside heralded the arrival of the second party.

They were on time, as expected. They were rarely anything less than punctual. Sweeping into the car park in formation, several of them taking up station at key vantage points before giving the ok for the Boss to join them. He stepped forward, imposing as ever with his two most senior lieutenants at his side, and strode towards the diner’s open door.

“It has been a long time,” he said as he entered the room, ducking his head to avoid the door frame. “I have to say, I thought long and hard about whether I should take this meeting, or whether I should simply use this as an opportunity to finish you all.”

“You could try,” said the thin man, half getting out of his seat.

The woman waved him back in place. “Let’s skip the pleasantries shall we? We’ve agreed to meet here on neutral ground to see if there’s room for mutual cooperation, to see if we can put aside our differences to consider a greater threat.”

“You’re the one saying there’s a greater threat, I’m not convinced.”

“Oh, please,” said the woman scornfully. “Can you honestly say that either of us have the respect we once had? Are either of us feared as we were once feared? Do we exert the power we once exerted?”

“I still have power.”

“Really?” asked the woman. “Because what I see is lip service. The fact is, competitors have moved in. Our products are no longer in the demand they once were.”

The man’s face darkened, but he finally nodded. “True. So what exactly is it that you’re proposing?”

“That we put aside our feud for now, our existential differences. That we agree not to attempt to disrupt each other’s supply lines or product.”

“You ask a lot.”

“What’s the alternative, El? Our support is dwindling; we can pretend it’s all going to blow over but I think we know that it’s going to get a lot worse if we don’t do something. There’s a whole generation growing up with no respect for us; worse, they don’t even know we exist. How long before all we are is memories like those who went before us?”

The man sighed. “I hate it when you’re right, Lucy.”

“It’s why I left.”

“I thought today wasn’t about old conflicts?”

“It’s not. It’s about new beginnings, it’s about a temporary alliance until we deal with the threat to our existence.”

“We’ll try it,” said the man, finally, “We’ll try it and see if we can make it work. But it’s not a long term solution; there’s going to come a day when we’re not on the same side.”

“Oh, I’m certain. But that’s for another day, yes Elohim?”

“Indeed it is, Lucifer. Indeed it is.” said Elohim, standing up in tandem with his archangels. “But, for now though, we have a deal.”

Day 2 - Interactive

Another tough day when it comes to available time. All of which means that I had grand ideas which never quite managed to materialise. So you get instead a pale shadow of what I intended - which, when you read it, you might agree is probably a Very Good Thing indeed...

Since the title of today's writing challenge was interactive, I decided to write an interactive story; which means you need to click here if you want to read it...

Day 1 - A Place You've Never Been

To step through the ornate double doors that led into the Xanadu Travel Agency was to step into an exotic blend of mansion and theme park; a place where pristine marble walls and flooring somehow organically blended with an array of imaginatively themed geographical areas. On one side of the cavernous room, a miniature tropical rainforest soared high above the polished wooden desks and trilled and echoed with the calls of wildlife. On the far side of the room, meanwhile, the marble floor gave way to perfect white sand and a gently undulating blue sea; in this part of the room the desks were each located on tiny islands that were connected by equally tiny pontoon bridges.

You could easily spot the first time visitors; for they were the ones who stood clustered around the entrance and who were gazing around the room open mouthed. It was a lot to take in. The impossibly high domed ceiling across which small planes and dirigibles ambled amongst fluffy white clouds, the roaming wildlife that would occasionally scamper across the room, and the large waterfall that cascaded down from the second and third floors above.

David Stymes remembered having been incredibly impressed by it all on his first visit here. But that was a long time ago and, these days, he tended to tune out all the extraneous detail. And, while he was prepared to accept that it demonstrated some excellent work by their world builders, he found that it was increasingly difficult for him to get excited by anything virtual.

“Mr Stymes,” said a velvety smooth voice to his right, “We didn’t know you were coming!”

He turned to see the manager of the agency, today dressed as a pirate with a parrot on her shoulder, walking towards him with a smile.

“Ms. Appleby.” he said, with a nod in her direction.

“Oh, I feel so ashamed,” she said, the parrot squawking in tandem with her. “We would have put on a special welcome if you’d told us.”

“There’s no need.”

“But, as one of our twenty biggest customers, you deserve so much more than just the standard entrance package.”

“The standard entrance is fine by me,” said Stymes, waving his hand in the direction of the waterfall. “That’s new isn’t it?”

“Oh yes,” said Ms. Appleby, “Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure how well it would work when they first suggested it, but it’s really gone down a storm. In fact, we’re even thinking about turning it into an attraction, letting people come down it in some kind of a barrel. You know how it is, got to keep moving with the times!”

“I suppose so.”

“So, how can we help you this time? We have a range of new packages in this month; from the thrills of the Wild West to the intoxicating pleasures of 1930s Paris. Your excitement is guaranteed.”

“Well, to be honest,” said Stymes, “I’m looking for something different.”

“Ah, well if it’s different you’re looking for than you should really consider picking something from our new suite of fictional holidays - you can choose to spend a week in the world of Tolkien, Fleming, even King – just imagine the possibilities!”

“Not really my cup of tea, I’m afraid. You see, I’m looking for something really different.”

“Oh,” said Ms. Appleby, nodding and leaning in conspiratorially, “I get it. I do. Something really different. Well, you know, whisper it, but for you we might be able to get our hands on a special kind of programme – how does a harem of slave girls sound?”

“No!” said Stymes, indignantly.

“Oh,” said Ms. Appleby, with a frown. “Slave boys?”

“Look, Ms. Appleby, I don’t want any kind of slaves or fantasy worlds, I want something different. I want something real. And I heard you might be able to get it for me…”

Ms. Appleby opened her mouth and then closed it silently, the parrot on her shoulder cocking its head and echoed “Something real, something real.”

“That’s what I want,” said Stymes, “Something real”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you mean,” said Ms. Appleby in a loud voice as she looked around frantically. “I have no knowledge of this; we are but a simple travel agency.”

“But I was told that…” began Stymes.

“I’m sorry, Mr Stymes, but I really think that you should leave. I’m afraid I can’t help you with this.”

“But…”

“Please leave now before I have to summon security. Good day, Mr. Stymes.” said Ms. Appleby and turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone save for the cool mist that drifted across from the waterfall.

***

He portalled home to his apartment, peeling himself swiftly from his stimu-suit before throwing his headset angrily across the room. His contact had assured him that Xanadu would be able to get him what he wanted, as long as he kept things low key. He strode to the kitchen, poured a glass of Zim and walked to his balcony to stare out across the miles of glass and plascrete that were spread out below him. There were only forty three apartments with better views in the whole city but tonight he found the scene more tedious than ever. He slugged the Zim, feeling it burn harsh against his throat. The sun hovered on the horizon, a muddy orange ball through the smog.

His wristband pulsed and stirred him from his thoughts. A priority Alpha message waiting for him from an anonymous sender, full security protocols. He walked from the balcony to his living room, secure shielding the apartment with a wave of his hand and encasing the room in a Level Five EM containment field.

He raised the wristband to his eye, let it scan his iris, before speaking his command code. “Proxima, Beta, Four, Xenon, Alpha.”

The holoprojector hummed for a split second, and then a beam of light lanced from the ceiling and coalesced in the middle of the room in the shape of a small portly man.

“This message,” the man said, nonchalantly, “is encrypted and single play. You will only have one opportunity to view and anti-record countermeasures are in action. Do you wish to play?”

“Play,” said Stymes.

“You would like something different,” said the man. “Something real. And we understand. We can give you exactly what you want. We know who you are, we know money is no object for you. But there are some things even money can’t buy. Well, not legally anyway. If you would like to discuss the terms of a transaction then use a secure line to call Ganymede Mining Services, extension five. Ask for Herman.”

The message went dead, the man frozen for a fraction of a second before the light disappeared and left the room in darkness. It could be a trap, he reasoned. The penalties for even attempting to violate the anti-tourism laws were steep, but he was fairly certain he had enough expensive friends in the right places that he would have received a warning. Besides, it was all too quick; he had only just spoken to Xanadu. No, this seemed legitimate.

He placed the call.

Audio only, the line buzzed twice and was then answered silently.

“I’d like to speak to Herman,”

“David Stymes,” said a voice at the other end of the line, “Please deposit six million of Y-Coin into the blind holding account whose details I have just sent you, this is simply a deposit and ensures good faith negotiations.”

“Done,” said Stymes, with a swipe of his hand.

“My apologies for the cloak and dagger,” said Herman, “A necessary evil in this line of work.”

“I understand. So, can you fulfill my request?”

“We can. For twenty five million Y-Coin, we can take you physically to a place you have never been before. We can take you to experience nature.”

“Nature?” scoffed Stymes. “There’s no nature left.”

“There are a few select sites known only to a few people. We can take you to such a site. You can experience nature in reality.”

“How does it work?”

“We send a stealth floater to your penthouse’s landpad in two hours time. You need to be packed  - one bag of ten kilos only - and ready to go. Zero tech. No implants, no wearables, no nothing. From that point on, we’ll get you to where you need to be and back again inside twenty four hours. The risk is minimal - we pay off the right people - but I’d be lying if I said there was no risk.”

“The twenty five million is already in your account,” said Stymes, “I’m in.”

***

The floater arrived exactly on time, and David Stymes was ready. He stepped aboard and willingly accepted the null-helmet that was offered to him. If he’d been wearing his wristband, he was sure that it would have been warning him that his heartbeat and adrenaline levels were spiking, but it was a rather elating feeling to be so disrobed of technology. He settled back into the seat and felt, rather than saw, the floater take off into the night sky. An hour later, he was fairly sure the floater had been picked up by something far faster; perhaps a high-altitude ramjet; but he simply sat back and enjoyed the ride before dozing off lightly in the dark.

He felt hands lifting the helmet from him and he stirred.

“We’re here,” said the voice of his guide. “You’ll have eight hours here. No more.”

He blinked against the light that was coming in through the open bay doors of the floater. It was a different character of light, somehow brighter and harsher, and he gingerly stepped across out of the doors with one hand shielding his eyes.

This was it, he thought, this was nature.

They were on a small island. The sea was not like the sea in the virtual, which was always a vibrant blue, but was instead a muddy green colour. And it smelled, a rich salty smell that caused him to wrinkle his nose slightly in disgust. No, this was nothing like the virtual. Beneath his feet was dirt and rock. To his left, wispy strands of grass stood tall in straggly bunches. He reached out to run his hand along them.

“Fuck” the grass blade cut into his finger and he recoiled, an orb of blood immediately welling up from the wound.

Above him, he heard the call of a bird and he looked up to see a seagull wheeling high above his head. It was real. A real bird. He hadn’t realised that there were any left.

Something wet and gelatinous splashed across his head and against the corner of his mouth.

“What the?”

He angled his head to see his shoulder which was spattered with something white and black, and realised what had just happened, before falling to his knees and gagging and retching onto the dirt. This wasn’t how it had imagined it, this wasn’t the nature that the virtual had prepared him for. It was dirty, and sharp, and smelly, and disgusting.

David Stymes climbed slowly to his feet and took a look around him; at the waves crashing against the shore, at the flowers in the wavering grass, at the birds in the sky. This was nature. This was real. He turned to his guide.

“For the love of God, take me home,” said Stymes, “I can’t stand to be in this horrible place even a minute longer…”

Oliver's NEW 30 Day Writing Challenge

I have to admit, this last year has been pretty tough on my creativity. A combination of a hectic workload, plus a bout of ill health, means that it's only been fairly recently that I've felt like I can surface and catch a breath. Sure, I managed to get my novel and a collection of short stories out last autumn, but they were things that I'd written previously and it was just a case of editing. But new stuff? Genuinely new stuff? That has proven a lot harder to deal with...

So, in order to shock myself into a creative frame of mind, I decided that it was time I pulled together another 30 Day Writing Challenge. I made one in 2012 that went pretty well (which is to say, I finished it), while the one I put together in 2015 wad a little less successful (life got in the way by the time I hit Day 13), but - in my humble opinion - it's about trying, it's about being prepared to try and write something every day (and let everyone else read it).

Therefore, April is going to be the month for my latest 30 Day Writing Challenge - meaning you have a full week to gird your mental loins and prepare yourself, should you wish to take part. And, if you're wondering how this works, well, it's pretty simple; each day there is a different title and you're free to interpret that title any way you see fit. Then you write something inspired by the title. It could be twenty pages, it could be twenty words. But you write. And that's pretty much it. Now, if you'd like to share what you've written with me (and others), you can feel free to post a reply (with a link) in the comments here on the blog. I'll do my best to read anything anyone sends...

So, without further ado, here are the titles for the 30 day challenge:

Day 1:   A place you've never been
Day 2:   Interactive
Day 3:   Detente
Day 4:   Inspired by The Hero's Journey
Day 5:   The Night Bus
Day 6:   Your first job
Day 7:   We will return
Day 8:   A childhood memory
Day 9:   Create an urban legend
Day 10:  The Placater
Day 11:  Where you live
Day 12:  Deep Dive
Day 13:  What if?
Day 14:  The Graveyard
Day 15:  Eight word sentences
Day 16:  Augmented Reality
Day 17:  Someone you saw today
Day 18:  Rhyming couplets
Day 19:  Rinse, repeat
Day 20:  Second person train journey
Day 21:  Every breath you take
Day 22:  Dialogue only, please
Day 23:  Last orders
Day 24:  School days
Day 25:  Daybreak
Day 26:  A scary story that might be true
Day 27:  Fragments
Day 28:  The day of randomness - use a random page from Wikipedia to inspire you.
Day 29:  The rain
Day 30:  Whispers

So, there you go; thirty daily writing challenges. Make of them what you will. It's going to be fun...

I've published two new books!

Short version - I've published two books on Amazon today. One a detective novel, set in 1900 London, and the other a collection of short stories (some of which first appeared on this very blog!). If you can't be bothered to read the long version, and just want to rush out and buy them then you can find them (dependent upon your location in the world) at one of the following links:

To Catch A Ghost
http://amazon.co.uk/dp/B07JLVK441
http://amazon.com/dp/B07JLVK441
http://amazon.nl/dp/B07JLVK441

Mystery Train and Other Stories
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07JL124W9
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JL124W9
https://www.amazon.nl/dp/B07JL124W9

But, if you don't read the long version, I should warn you that you'll miss out on a chance to get the short story collection for free...

And so, the long version...

About five years ago, I had an idea for a cool (and hopefully clever) detective novel set in the heart of Victorian London, and featuring a genius detective matching wits with an equally genius criminal. Armed with a clear idea of the story from beginning to end, I spent one summer holiday in a coffee shop in Breda (thank you Inspire Coffee!) writing several hours a day. And, by the end of the holiday, as well as having consumed about 73 gallons of latte, I had managed to write the thing.

I read it immediately and only saw flaws in it. But, I've heard this can happen and that one needs to put it aside for a few weeks and come back to it again. So I decided to do just that.

The only problem was, when I came back in a few weeks time, I'd lost it. Yes, seriously.

I'd been working on one computer, transferred it on a memory stick to another. Only to get rid of the first computer, have a problem with the second, and lose the memory stick.

The novel was gone.

I was upset. However, fortunately, I was way too busy to get too upset. I figured I'd write it again one day; but of course I never did...

And then, a few months ago, I stumbled across a pile of old hard drives. It turned out I'd had the wisdom to remove the hard drive from the first computer before I got rid of it. And there, sitting quite happily, was my novel.

So, I reread it. And couldn't understand why me of five years ago didn't like it. I really enjoyed it, especially because I could hardly even remember writing it - it was almost as if reading something by someone else! I therefore decided that I'd edit it, tweak a few bits here and there, and then make it available on Amazon.

And, while doing that, it occurred to me that maybe it would be a good idea to collate some of the stories that I've written over the years - here and on reddit - and so I started looking through them and found 37 that I liked enough to republish. So I did.

Now comes the curious part of whether anyone but me likes them! I guess we'll see..

Oh, and if you've got this far then - between 00.00 Pacific Standard Time and 23.59 Pacific Standard Time on Monday 22nd October - Mystery Train and Other Stories will be available free. I wanted it to let people who've enjoyed my stories over the years to have a chance to nab it without paying if they should so wish!

Hopefully a few of you will read both books. Hopefully a few of those few will even like them. I would be eternally grateful, if you do like them, if you could leave a review on Amazon.

So, that's the long version. Hope you like them!