Ruthermore, Potbelly and ‘Four’.

Somewhere, in amongst the twisted turmoil of the mind, there occasionally appear tendrils of normality.

These are very quickly squashed lest they get out of hand; so we plunge back into a kind of semi-controlled madness that takes over what passes for living.

For instance, last night I checked the pulse of a dead man. You may think that this was a fairly fruitless exercise but I should wish to point out that he was very freshly dead as a result of somersaulting his new Volvo. Volvos (Volvoes?) are very strong except when you drop them on their roof. The result was that his neck broke, I could tell because he was listening for his own heartbeat—never a good sign when someone’s ear is almost on their chest.

And he was twitching.

This is what happens when you try to go past a queue of traffic at high speed and fail to notice a large piece of kerbing sticking up to separate traffic at a junction.

So there was a journey that took the rest of someone’s life. Very sad. Somebody is sitting at home waiting for their takeaway or, even, just for Dad to come home and give them a kiss goodnight.

I drove the rest of the way home very carefully after that, as you might imagine.

We are all, in our own way, strange. We do strange things. Sometimes we do things where we are overtaken by madness. The result of that is sometimes not so good for our friends and families.

In my imagination there live lots of strange people. Some of them live with a fellow called Ruthermore Heidigens.

Beloved asked me where I got the name. I told her it crawled into my head and sat there staring at me until I used it. Idea sprites do that; they are mean, delinquent and persistent.

In the first ‘episode’ of ‘Ruthermore Heidigens’ story he is engaged by the Planetary Fiscal Committee to assist in the apprehension of a certain Tarbert Mutch who has insisted on the presence of Heidigens. If Heidigens is not there the location of the Fifth Planet will be revealed to all.

Currently the ‘known Universe’ consists of four planets. Ruthermore, it should be said, is the finest Wizard in that known Universe. By his own admission he is also the only Wizard in the known Universe thus, by default, becomes the best.

The Planetary Fiscal Committee are an all-powerful body who, as is explained, do not want others to know of the existence of another planet in case people actually go there, make money and do not reveal the source of this bounty to the Committee.

Politicians, you see. Ah! Now you understand.

The second Ruthermore story, just completed, is about a sixth planet. They set off to look for it on a fairly routine adventure, discover that it is inhabited already but cannot retreat because Chau, Ruthermore’s daughter, is assailed by a voice in her head.

Ruthermore will not let that go unpunished. He may be a fat and gentle soul but he is a devil when roused. Threatening his daughter is one certain way of attracting his attention rapidly.

It is occasions such as this that will get him out of his comfortable existence. Ruthermore reasons that, since he can cast spells, there is absolutely no reason why he should work—or do anything that remotely resembles work; his daughter waits on him hand and foot and he always, but always, has a comfortable chair to sit in.

That last is much to the eternal chagrin of his would-be partner and business associate, Rennidl Dienst.

During their stay on the sixth planet (Earth, by the way) Chau mentions to a policeman that her Dad is a wizard. The policeman, not unnaturally, asks if his name is Merlin.

Chau is shocked! “Dad,” she says, “He knows Merlin.”

And that, dear souls, is where it is all left wide open for yet another ‘Ruthermore Heidigens’ story.

‘Suit, Potbelly, Earlobes and the Rest’ is a short story. From the ‘off’ you have to figure out who is the bad guy in all the goings on. It may be that, even at the end, you will not really know. Will ‘Knees’ be taken? Will they ever get ‘Tonsure’ back? Maybe that will become another story.

For those of you who have read the short story called ‘Three’s Company’ there is a treat. The sequel, a short novelette, has gone to the publisher; it is called ‘Four’s a Crowd’.

Instead of heading North, the gang go East up into the hills. They do this to find some gold.

As you will remember, they have no use for gold but the ‘ghosts’ of the Northern Jungle want some. In exchange for the gold they will clean Metth Croym’s beloved painting.

Metth absolutely does not wish to relinquish the painting—especially to the ‘ghosts’, but he feels that there is an inherent threat. He has no choice.

He heads South to see Iffan Beute and Oggun Raud, together with three lads from the village plus Three they set off to find the gold.

Everything starts out just fine and then, on the day when they feel they must turn around and head back, disaster strikes...

Now to bend my head to the keyboard to work more on the third novel—‘The Adepts: Book Three—Pitch Perfect’.

Incidentally, I sometimes do requests. Never fear dropping me a line with ideas, thoughts, suggestions. We all get idea sprites. Let them do the work!

Internal Struggles

A thousand years ago, when the British Empire was still a twinkle in some merchant’s eye, I had a thought that rose up from the words in a book I was reading.

In those days, after around seven or eight years of life, I would read anything. Books about birds, birds’ eggs, animals, trees, aeroplanes (avid reader of anything about aeroplanes), astronomy... anything.

Astronomy was one of my favourites although I have never been able to pick out constellations or other planets. My interest was purely academic—no practical applications at all.

As a side note, astrology has never interested me. For those who gain comfort from it, may it warm your heart and keep your soul. For me? I cannot imagine how a star many hundreds, perhaps thousands, of light years from us can have any bearing on our lives. Furthermore, the future has yet to happen and so soothsaying and other forms of ‘voyancy’ into that ‘which is yet to happen’ is a nonsense; too many variables.

I should love to know what is going to happen in the next few minutes—never mind next week, month, year...

[NB: This ‘spell/grammar check thing has no clue about ‘astyanax’. It’s quick enough to leap on ‘fragment’ and ‘passive voice’. Irritating!]

Where was I? Too many idea sprites sparking away, they trigger ‘The Voices’!

Oh, yes. The thought.

While reading about stars and galaxies, steeped in a sense of wonder at how many different forms these things take, ‘The Thought’ hit me.

Where does it end?

Our planet goes around a star that we call ‘Sol’—our sun; this, in its turn, goes around with billions of other stars in a galaxy; billions of galaxies, spreading out, presumably rotate in a Universe.

Perhaps there are many universes—in fact, there would have to be or there would just be an infinite void full of nothing out there.

So? Where does it end? Is there a wall or fence? Is there a sphere of crystalline rock entombing all that we know?

But, then, what lies beyond that?

I could feel my mind slipping away. This was a thought that I was not equipped to deal with but I knew that it would grab hold of my mind and put it in some sort of cerebral lock forever if nothing was done.

The only way I could rationalise it was to write a story. Where the story is now I know not. Lost forever in some rubbish bin swirling around in the space-time continuum where favourite teddy bears and stamp collections go.

The Seed

A boy gazed at a seed. It was quite a large seed, possibly from one of the trees that grew all around the place where he was sitting.

His focus was entirely on the seed. Nothing else existed, not even the faint sound of his Mother’s voice calling him in for lunch somewhere in the distance.

Somewhere within the seed he knew that there were smaller parts that made up the seed. That it was a collection of molecules and atoms arranged to form the flesh of the seed so that it would grow and become something bigger, perhaps huge.

He held the seed closer to his eye even ‘though he was well aware that those tiny particles were invisible; even microscopic life forms were beyond the visual range of his eye.

‘Perhaps,’ he thought, ‘one day someone will invent something that will be able to see atoms and molecules. But, then, how will they know that it is the atoms or molecules they are aiming at and not the particles that make up the machine for seeing such infinitesimally small points of matter.’

The boy sat back, staring, unseeing, up at the trees.

We are going around the sun. The sun is part of a galaxy. There are billions of galaxies out there just as there are billions of atoms in this seed.

What if this universe is an atom?

What if we were able to go so far out into space that we could observe millions, perhaps billions, of universes?

What would that make?

If we went even farther out, what are the universes rotating around?

Could we go so far out that we could see what becomes of these universes?

Eventually we could see that all those universes were part of a seed.

A small boy is holding it, wondering. Wondering at what tiny particles make up this seed. He is ignoring his Mother’s voice in the distance.

Does he realise that deep, deep down inside that seed is another boy holding a seed just like his and that that small boy’s seed also contains a small boy holding a seed?

Does he know that he, too, is just part of an atom?

End

Little dogs have little fleas upon their backs to bite ‘em.

And little fleas have smaller fleas, and so ad infinitum.

Anon.

Now you know.  Even back in 1956 or ’57 my head was full of odd things.

Ruthermore Heidigens

So much to do and so little time to do it.

Just finished a short story called “Suit, Potbelly, Earlobes and the Rest” that will probably be re-titled by the publisher but that’s OK. It was a story that came to me in the middle of a bad dream and really needed jotting down.

Some stories are like that. They flood into your mind and just take over, as if they have a will of their own; the only way to get rid of them is to write them.

This particular story takes place in unknown territory that appears not to be here on earth with a large chunk of it in a creepy village somewhere remote—and wet!!

This all happened after finishing the second Ruthermore Heidigens story.

The first one, “Ruthermore Heidigens and the Fifth Planet” went off to the publisher some time ago. I know that ‘Hishgraphics’ did a superb job on the cover so it is all under way, so to speak.

Ruthermore is a wizard. He is, by his own admission, the finest wizard in the known universe, which consists of four planets. The fifth planet is the reason for the story.

It should be noted that Ruthermore is also the only wizard in the four planets so that would automatically make him the best, statistically speaking.

Now we move on to “Ruthermore Heidigens and the Voices”. In this story we learn more about his daughter, Chau, and about him being the only wizard in the known universe, which now expands to include Earth.

Of course, we on Earth know all about wizards, do we not?

The first 'Ruthermore' story is a novelette but the second one is slightly longer so becomes a novella.

I do feel another Ruthermore Heidigens story coming on but, first, there is the sequel to “Three’s company” tentatively entitled “Four’s a Crowd” or something like that; still working on that.

In this story there is an emergency involving Three—and a bit of gossip from the local village.

Roughing out a story to do with a tubular building but that one is sticky in the head. Don’t seem to be able to quite sort it out. I know what I want to do but getting there is the thing—definitely put that on hold until the creases come out. Might need to go and lay down on a beach somewhere for that one!

Finally. The third episode of “The Adepts” is coming along slowly. This is a fairly complex working out of changes in time and reality that really needs to be right or it will emerge as corny as “Battle of Los Angeles”!

Actually, to be honest, I bet the story was terrific they just screwed up the film. I feel really sorry for the writer, he probably put his soul into that story and then the producers and accountants got hold of it. Ergh!!

Note: Not to be confused with “Battle: Los Angeles”, which, I am told, is a good film. “Battle of Los Angeles” was a film made for SyFy Channel who should have buried it immediately.

I am hoping that “Rhittach: The Beginning” will be out before Christmas.  That’s a really heart warming story of the most violent and bloodthirsty little girl you could possibly hope to meet. Just the ticket for putting under the tree for Christmas morning.

Stories

Four stories from the mind of David S Leyman to suit all tastes:

‘The Hags of Teeb’ is a humorous novella underscoring the British form of xenophobia and the class system. Major Jassington Farquar DeTovington-Beauville, Duke of Scafell Pike and the fifth Baron Livesey, twenty-third in line heir to the throne of the Empire with his faithful family retainer, Gaspard, go into battle with the ‘Herds of Dollib’.  The result of this encounter will determine their ultimate fate; will they get the treasure or will they be doomed forever?

‘Meevo’, a novelette with a military flavour.  A dangerous mutant escapes from a high security prison in Molepolole, a windswept, icy and toxic wasteland where escapees can expect to die once they are clear of the confines of the prison.

A squad of the toughest space soldiers is sent south from their tropical headquarters in Liverpool to catch the mutant and either return it to its cell or kill it.

The soldiers are ill suited to a mission where the hunted will make you see what it wants you to see.

‘Crater’ is a, largely, military space opera focussing on a war of attrition between humans and an ancient race of beings who crashed one of their ships on Earth.

They want us, and everything on our planet for fuel, we would rather not allow this and go into battle to prevent our extermination at their hands.

They believe they are immortal but we have an advantage—we breed.  They may have the technology but we have numbers, a history of warfare and a will to survive.

This story spans millennia and the far reaches of space.  Who will prevail?  What is mankind’s ultimate fate?

‘Three’s Company’.  A romantic short story set somewhere ‘up there’ amongst other worlds on an unknown planet where an attachment is formed between a human and a rather feline human as a result of an expedition into the jungles of the north.

Years later a mystery develops when the human, Iffan Beute, leaves his home in the south to visit a dying friend in the northern part of their homeland.  All the ‘Northerners’ regard his companion as a ‘ghost’ and his friend, Metth Croym, is fixated on a painting that he cannot remember creating.

All of the stories are available on Kindle at:

Amazon.com                  [http://amzn.to/my2xAB]

Amazon.co.uk                  [http://amzn.to/kRW8tv]

[Also on Amazon.de]

All covers on ‘iqliptiq’ books are by ‘Hishgraphics’:

(http://www.hishgraphics.com/)

There are also some ‘free to read’ stories on the web site:

www.davidleyman.com

These are ‘in the rough’, mostly, straight from the head into the keyboard with no ‘post writing’ work done on them.  Except ‘Silicon Ballet’ that was an entry for a writing competition.

Have fun and enjoy; tell your friends and ask them to tell their friends.

A Trio of Different Tales Plus One.

There are now three different titles on Amazon (Kindle) to choose from.  They are all very different stories with a fourth, ‘Three’s Company’, soon to appear.

Do not worry if you have no ‘Kindle’—I also do not have one but I am able to download ‘Kindle Editions’ by having ‘Kindle for Mac’ on my computer.  There are several variants of ‘Kindle’ to choose from—for PC’s, for ‘phones, for sundry pads, pods and so on.

The stories are:

‘Crater’:

This is the story, spread over many centuries, of a war of attrition between an alien race and us humans.

These aliens have wandered through the galaxy for billions of years harvesting biological matter from various planets to fuel their ships.  They have no thought of reseeding these planets because, in their view, there is always another planet to go and scrape clean.

Then one of their raider crashes on Earth.

We do not want to be harvested.  We fight back.

We soon learn that the one thing in our favour is that they do not breed.  Once they die they cannot be replaced.  We, on the other hand, can breed rapidly to replace our losses in battle.

The thing we do not know is—how many of them are there?  Can we breed fast enough?

They may have technology but we have experience of fighting.  We have been doing it for thousands of years.  We are good at it.

‘Meevo’:

A chilling story about a mutant who is very bad.  This mutant is a killer.  Other mutants, who fear it, capture it and hand it over to the Authorities.  They imprison it in a special quarantine unit for very bad criminals in Molepolole.

This world of the future is a very different place.  It is wracked with toxins and suffers from acutely altered weather patterns.  Few countries have escaped the ravages of war and, even at this time, the war, although long over, still creeps across continents killing and destroying in its path.

The mutant, Meevo, escapes.  It will make you see what it wants you to see.  The Army sends in its best squad of fighting men to go and put it back in prison or kill it.  These men have seen action throughout space where they have enforced our law and put down rebellions with ease.

One small mutant should be no problem.  Should it?

‘The Hags of Teeb’:

Major Jassington Farquar DeTovington-Beauville, Duke of Scafell Pike and the fifth Baron Livesey, with his faithful family retainer, Gaspard, are hot on the heels of a fabled treasure.

The Major is an aristocratic prig who considers that bringing the family mule might have afforded not only better company but improved quality of conversation compared to Gaspard who is French.

Gaspard is thus the bag carrier and general dogsbody to Jassington’s autocratic snobbery.  The Major actually believes he is a kind and thoughtful person, he also believes that his intellectual prowess and wit is unequalled anywhere.

Ultimately, in order to gain the treasure, he must enter into a battle of wits with the ‘Herds of Dollib’.  He has no doubts about the outcome and is convinced that in gaining the treasure he will also, as a by-product, by the source of rescue for his King.

This story is a wry look at the British class system and a tweak at the xenophobia of an island race.  Start reading it with a smile on your face and feel it get wider and wider as you progress.

‘Three’s Company’:

Coming soon.

Many years in the past there was an expedition to the Northernmost reaches of the land.  A team of dedicated men went into the steamy jungles to study and report back.  Few made it out.

Iffan Beute was rescued by a strange human with a vaguely cat-like features and a long tail.  This feline human became known to him as ‘Three’.

They lived together in Babir, a Southern town, for many years until there was a call from one of the Northern towns—Manat.

Iffan and Three head up to the North to find out what could be done.

That’s when they learn about the ‘Ghosts’.

‘Three’s Company’ is a short story of just under 5,000 words.  That makes it just nice for a lunchtime read.  Romantic Sci-Fi but not a romance.

I hope you enjoy my efforts to entertain you.

Books for the Blind

'Meevo': Another proof-read.  Still finding typos and other sundry errors.  Happily, I have a hyper-critical editor-proofreader who will tolerate no second rate writing.

Tried to have a critical look at the story.  Maybe 'tighten it up' a bit?  Hard to be objective over something that exists in your head so brightly and yet, somehow, seems a little duller when it is put down in words.

In your mind's eye it is possible to see, with great clarity and in precise detail, things like thunder and lightning; great storms rolling across the surface of a planet.  No matter, though, how many words that are precisely fitting you use, it never reads back quite how it is in your head.

That got me thinking.

Yes, an idea sprite.

Blind people.  

If someone has been blind since birth they have never seen anything to make pictures of in their minds.  How would such a person describe, for example, a volcano?

If they read braille what are they 'seeing' in their minds?

A little while ago someone asked me if I dream in colour.  They asked me because I have monochromatic vision (B&W only - well, and greys, of course!).  I said "How would I know?"

There are some references to blind people who dream in sounds and emotions but no images.  There are also references where there is a hypothesis that blind people don't see 'darkness' because they have never seen 'light'.  Since darkness is the absence of light they also wouldn't know.

Of course, these thoughts are contingent upon the person in question being blind since birth  -  congenital blindness, in fact.

Why is this important to me, as an author?

Because I have had 'audio books' for the blind mentioned.  Audio books for long distance lorry drivers are fine but for blind people?

The point, for me, of a book is that it is an attempt to describe images, situations and emotions in words.  In setting the scene, particularly in science fiction where the 'scene' may be very alien, precise words are needed to convey the image in the writer's mind into the mind of the reader.  There is an effort here to avoid ambiguity.  This is a difficult enough task to perform for people who have visual references but how do we do that for blind people who have no images at all?

Does this mean that books for the blind must rely on sound and emotions only?  How does that limit the range of scenes and activities within the story?

It is always possible that my own life experiences are limited by not seeing colours but, at least, I can view shapes and textures so my descriptives are accurate in that respect.

I just have to avoid taking 'Blue Grass' too literally

'Crater'

http://amzn.to/gQjy71

First contact
First Aliens
Now there is war.
They came here by accident but their purpose is lethal.
They are 'immortal'
We breed.
There can only be one winner.
They want us  -  dead.
We want them  -  dead.



Science Fiction that will keep you enthralled.

Available on Amazon at 0.99c [0.71p]

THE KEEBLEAR HORROR by Glenn G. Thater

http://simurl.com/zinfew

Well.

There.

What to say?

I do try to avoid commenting on other people's work but there is something about this that is ringing bells in my head.

No, I have not become Quasimodo although I do have a hunch....

On my 'Blog' "The Write Stuff", I have commented on different apporoaches to writing.  One thing I do stress is that, for me, doing a writing course is a bad idea.  This is, primarily, because the reader wants to see what is in your head and in your imagination.  An amalgam of other people's ideas tends to come out 'bitty', disjointed and unconvincing.

Perhaps if you are doing specialised writing like training notes for technical courses, manuals or, even journalism (do journalists do courses?  They, or many of them, seem not to do courses in English.... but that's a tale for another day) then, perhaps, a course is in order.  But for fiction?  No.  Whatever your genre, write what you want to write in your own way.

Clearly, there should be some common reference point.  Learning about punctuation, grammar, comprehension, spelling and syntax is important in order to avoid those elephant traps that many fall into.

All the great people who write wonderful stories have not done writing courses.  Writing courses are designed for people to make money out of people who think that they might want to write but need moral support or convincing.

It is not necessary to be a journalist, a Ph.D or even a highly qualified expert in some field or other to write a great story.  You do not even have to be old although life experience is invaluable when telling tales of people and situations.  There are many young authors out there who, like old-timers, vary between incompetent to exciting.  Some are successful but, possibly, most are not.  Again, I have written about that previously.  You can have  great story, well told, but still not 'make it'.  On the other hand you can have a mediochre story fairly painfully told and get a contract with a publishing house.  That's life.  Live with it.

There are people out there who are intellectual giants.  Enormously clever people who excel in their field of work and whose grasp of the language, whatever it is, far surpasses the average person in the street.  Again, I have written previously about the pitfalls of overusing words.

Now I come to the short story, above.

The author is, clearly, extraordinarily gifted mentally.  He is head and shoulders above most people in the 'brains' department.  He has taken it upon himself to write stories.  Good.

This particular story is the sort of 'competition length' story that is very difficult, in the normal course of events, to write.  To get the characters, the atmosphere, the surroundings and the action into less than 2,000 words is very tricky if you want it be seem 'real'.  This story is about 1800, I guess (without actually counting them up).

First, the bad news.  I found the language a little difficult.  Using mediaeval forms, like Tolkien, is highly specialised and inserting modern ideas into it is extremely difficult to achieve successfully.  This story nearly does that.

Secondly, the good news.  It is a wonderful idea.  It has a good start, a reasonable development phase and an excellent ending.

Thirdly, the observation.  Please rewrite it longer.  Give yourself more room for the approach to the end. This could be made even better if it was around 5000 words.  It all felt a bit rushed.  'Laze' it up a little to give the reader time to think and absorb what is going on and put more into it so that we know what is happening.

Did I enjoy it?  Immensely.  It IS good as it stands.  These opinions are just my ideas to give it more.... how can I say?  'Oomph'!

I shall read more of your stories now even though that particular genre is not in my normal reading slot.

Thank you, Glenn.

Isaac Asimov: A Note

Please observe that 'Forward the Foundation' was written earlier than 1992.  Isaac Asimov completed it shortly before his death in 1992.  It was published in 1993.

I apologise for any confusion.

Tangents + Ideas = Opposite x Hypotheticals

Isaac Asimov, my greatest hero, was a scientist.  He dealt in practical things.  Physics, chemistry, astronomy and, above all, mathematics.

His was a life devoted to the precision and care associated with getting things right.  No guessing.  Intuitive leaps, perhaps, based on carefully composed ideas but the final result always rested on the analysis of the calculations.

Many of my other heroes, Arthur C Clarke, Carl Sagan have that in common.  They all thought scientifically.  They all had that cold logical rationalization of their ideas.

And yet.

Read their stories.

Not the factual documentaries that they wrote so as to fascinate us readers and draw us, beguilingly, into their world of numbers and facts, but the stories.  The fiction.

See how it flows.

Consider the ‘Foundation’ series. ‘Prelude to Foundation’, ‘Forward the Foundation’, ‘Foundation’, ‘Foundation and Empire’, ‘Second Foundation’, ‘Foundation's Edge’, and ‘Foundation and Earth’.  This is not the sequence they were written in.

‘Foundation’ was originally a series of eight short stories published (in ‘Astounding Magazine’) between May 1942 and January 1950.  It was based, loosely, upon Edward Gibbons’ ‘The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’.

In 1993 Asimov wrote the final book, ‘Forward the Foundation’.  In this story he raveled together all the threads of his other series—including ‘I, Robot’ to bring them all together into one singularity.

He could not have foreseen this in 1942 in his conversations with John W. Campbell, his editor.

Where does this lead us?

In reading his books, and those of other authors in similar vein—Robert A. Heinlein springs to mind, you will see that, in spite of his training, there has been no pre-planning.

When he, Asimov, wrote the first ‘Foundation’ story he could have had no idea that, eventually, there would be more and that they would all tie together with his other stories.  Pre-planning is an impossibility.

In similar manner, Robert Heinlein certainly would not have considered that writing about water beds in his stories, with fairly complete descriptions, would prevent an applicant, thirty years later, from getting a patent on the idea through prior art.

If we now contract this idea into the writing of one book we can get back to the concept of ‘idea’ sprites.  I have mentioned these before in another ‘Blog’.

These sprites are the things that come into your head while you are writing or ironing or welding something to a car chassis.  They try to convince you that there is something else you should be doing instead, something more important.  You can, they will insist, always come back to this idea later.  But you cannot.  You will, invariably, forget.  The notion of ‘picking up the thread’ afterwards is a false one.  At best you will have only a vague memory of something that you were doing or thinking but, in essence, the meat of it will be gone.

Asimov, et al, had ‘idea’ sprites.  You can see them working their threads through the stories.

The difference with these great authors is that they used the sprites.  They seized them by the scruff of the neck, used the idea, and then incorporated that into their story so that the story led back into its original stream.

Really great authors with genius running through their mental veins do it over a period of fifty years.  Through seven volumes.

Hard to top that.

That’s why he is my Number One Hero.

Reflections on 'Mirrors'

The other night we watched a film called 'Mirrors 2'.  On my 'Tweet' I said it was boring  -  well, most of it, anyway.

That may have been a sweeping generalisation so I sat down after watching it and tried to analyse what it was that made it uninteresting to watch.

Was it the filming?  The acting?  The script?  All of these things were quite good in their own way so was it the story?

The first film, 'Mirrors', was fine.  It wasn't my favourite film of all time, which is a tie between 'Serenity' and 'The Man Who Would Be King', but it was acceptable viewing over an evening's tea and biscuits.

The story in 'Mirrors 2' is similar to 'Mirrors' but in a different setting.  Was it the 'sameness' that made the emotional hole?

One of the sad facts of today's film industry is that a good film demands a follow-up movie.  Either a sequel or, as in 'Star Wars', a prequel  -  or two.  Invariably the following films are rarely as good as the original.  The 'Firefly' series on TV was a stunning exception but, then, it wasn't a film even though the whole series stitched together into a complete story.

'The Lord of the Rings' started out as a trilogy so, maybe, that cannot be included in this generalisation of good v. bad in the No. 1, 2, 3, 4.... categories.

Many films have gone rapidly downhill from the first release (I know a lot of people will differ) but:
SAW
Friday 13th
Nightmare on Elm Street
Speed
Legally Blonde
American Pie (under other names, too, but, still....  http://bit.ly/cqgH65)
have all been well worth not watching in their rebirths under various numbers.  You can, no doubt, add your own (long) list.

Some of these sequels are quite good but they never seem to match up to that first one.

Why?

I thought about the writer (of course).  His script for 'Mirrors 2' - remember that?  Is good.  There was nothing wrong with the story line nor with the flow of dialogue.  The writer, clearly, had an image in his mind that he (she?) wanted to convey to the person watching the film.  The premise was good, the plot was good and the outcome fine even to the point of leaving that little taster hanging ready for a third movie of this franchise.

If the acting was reasonable, if not outstanding, and the filming was also acceptable was it the directing or the production?

It seems to me that the answer is in the difference between the first and second  -  and subsequent, films.  The difference is minimal.  The setting has changed as have the characters and yet the story-line is pretty much the same.  There is, mayhap, only so much you can do with the "person/ghost trapped in a mirror" idea.

How does this relate to books?

Terry Pratchett has written a large number of 'Discworld' books.  They are very similar in their basic premise, the characters remain fairly constant and yet.... and yet....

Leigh and David Eddings have the same scenarios in each book with the same basic ideas and characters.  Yet each is different.

Pratchett, Eddings, Asimov (Robots, Foundation, for example) and others with series seem to be able to steer away from the trap that films drop into.  Why?

I believe that this hinges on two concepts:
Firstly, the book conveys ideas and images into the mind of the reader.  The 'world' inside those words is of the reader's creation  -  only the framework is built by the writer.  No matter how many times you create the same world the reader will find a new image to put into it; indeed, it is entirely possible that the reader gains comfort from the recreation of the same scenes in each book.
Secondly, each of these authors tell stories based on the same scenes and with the same characters but,  big 'but',  each story brings something different to the table.  A little extra, and different, spice is dropped in to pique the interest and keep the reader's imagination going.

Films cannot do this.  Films give you words and images, there is nothing left for the watcher to create.  They are, necessarily, more superficial entertainment than are books.

I have tried, in my stories, to create, using the same characters, a different view of the universe with each book.  To bring something different to the table so that, when you open 'Book 2' you will not get a re-run of 'Book 1'.

Hopefully, each of them will keep you on the edge of your tea cup.

Meditations on Writing

In a few moments of enforced idleness I had a little cogitate.  No, really!  Rather along these lines:
It seems to me that there are only two ways to write a book.

Firstly, let's just examine what L Ron Hubbard had to say about it.  I paraphrase because I cannot remember, now, the exact words:

He said that you should never do a writing course.
I agree with that.  It is a bit like going to Art School.  You get to absorb the way that others do things and that takes the edge off the way you do it.  Art School is good for specific, mechanical, techniques - how to do ink and wash, how to use oils, water colours, scraperboard and also the more mathematical side like perspectives - I still have nightmares about those!  But style and content and how you combine those techniques is yours.

So what did L Ron suggest is the correct method?  He said:
"Write, write and write again.  Then, write some more.  When you are thoroughly sick of writing, write again.  Like anything else you only get to be good at it by practice.

Is he correct?  I think so.

Now let's go back to my theory.  This has, very likely, been proposed before by others but it is, right now, something that has crept insidiously into my head and the only way to extract it is to write it down.

Two ways to write a story.  You can fill in extras as you see best fit, of course.  Opinions and ideas are free and welcome.

First way:
Get the idea.  Write the framework.  Put in 'waypoints' to navigate by.  Write the start and the end.  Fill in odd details along your 'Masterplan'.  Research the subject and any points you want to include and insert them in 'The Plan'.  Now write the whole thing to that plan using words as cement to glue the waypoints together.

Second way:
Have the idea.  Sort out a beginning and a few characters.  Have a general idea of how you want it to end. Start writing.  Let the characters take over and follow them through their journey.  You may have to change location from time to time but still listen to them.  Live the story in your head and just use it as an exercise in dictation.

I like the second way.  The story, for me, flows better using this method.

For you?  I don't know.  Whatever you are comfortable with and brings you satisfaction.

I do insist on this, though!
If you enjoy writing it then somebody will enjoy reading it.  If writing is a chore then reading it will be, too.

So.
When you write happy bits  -  smile.
When you write sad bits - cry.

It will show.

Conversation just before 'The Adepts - Book 1: Furato'

"You are becoming fat and lazy, Harka'aani.  You sit here on a civilised planet, your girls go 'human' from time to time leaving you on your own and now you say we should do more--be more pro-active.  You are almost completely inactive.  What would you propose we do to change?"

"Raudu'aani, my friend.  What are we doing?  The aligned planets have become bureaucratic cankers, they are administrative black holes.  The non-aligned planets are, mostly, drifting along satisfied with their lot as far as we know but we know very little in reality.  There are still pirates out there who we let go because there is no political will to punish them, it is always 'someone else's jurisdiction'.  We have become complacent, complacency breeds stagnation and stagnation is its own punishment.  You say my girls are 'human' from time to time but yours are, what?  Bored.  Tullatta'aadu is not as sharp as she should be and Sangga'aadu is going witless through ennui while you do.... what?  Travel around looking for something to do."

Raudu'aani shook his head not knowing how to respond.  Harka'aani was right, he knew that.  He spread his hands wide.  "What do you suggest?  Start a war or two?"

"Could do worse.  It works on this planet."  Harka'aani took another long swig of his hot tea and surveyed the scenery overlooking the Great Rift Valley.  "We could do more exploration, see what else is out there.  We could look in on the Non-Aligned Planets to see what they are doing.  How long is it since we looked for any more of us that might be out there?"

"We've been through that a thousand times.  No good will come of raking over burnt out embers.  They are gone.  We are all that remain."

The two Adepts sat quietly drinking their tea, their memories washing over them.

Raudu'aani's two girls watched them with growing curiosity.  Sangga'aadu wanted something to stretch her considerable intellect while Tullatta'aadu just wanted to stretch her muscles and kill someone."

Ideas

"There's a storm coming.  It's not brewing.  It is not riding in on dark clouds.  It is not sweeping in from the East or the West.  But it is coming.


We who are going about our innocent daily business; those who are, less innocently, planning bad things for other people; some who are considering the futility of life, consider this.  Your worries will all, very soon, be the same.  Those of us--or you, who are left.


Survival.


Who will help?


Why should they help us?


There's a storm coming.  It moves in remorselessly from the outer edges, even now, of the Solar System.


Soon the lead Mother ships will be at Titan and the astronomers will pick them out against the night sky.  Perhaps the first thought will be jubilation.  Perhaps the second thought will be the question of how to contact them.


There will be no third thought.


This is not punishment.  It is not revenge.  It is spite.


The storm is here."




I was just having some thoughts about "The Adepts - Book 2: Empath".  The words, above, sum up what the beginning is about.


This is another of those stories that was really fun to write.  After having to introduce the characters in 'Book 1: Furato' it was lovely to just get on with the tale and have it unfold in my head.


Perhaps there should be a similar 'Blog' about 'Book 1: Furato'.  Hmm.  I'll think about that.

Distractions.

Lots of distractions today.  Finally got to sit in front of the computer and distracted myself again by reading another author's web-site (www.janiebill.com).  Different sort of writing to mine but extremely gifted  -  I wish her every success.


Also keeping an eye on the "Writer's and Artist's Year Book"  Short Story Competition.  I have every confidence of doing superbly well this year.  The story submitted was extremely satisfying and most enjoyable to write even 'though it is tough going to get a good story line into 2000 words or less.  I usually manage to get it into 1990+ so just inside the limit.


Still, got some done on the 3rd Book so everything is not completely lost.  Must remember that time is a finite resource  -  no slacking!

Short Story List

Just in case there is any confusion; the two titles "Crater" and "Crater II" are the same story but in different settings.  The original "Crater" is set in Malaysia, initially, but there was a general feeling that people in the big, wide world would not be able to identify with it.  Result?  "Crater II".  "Crater II" is set in Scotland  -  Edinburgh, which is, very likely, a place that more people can associate with.

Sad, really.  Kuala Lumpur is a beautiful place with great food, lovely people, great food, lots of greenery, great food, wonderful shopping, great food, super beaches nearby.  Did I mention the food?

The Adepts - Book 3: Pitch Perfect

Did a little bit of writing and getting really into the swing of it but veered off by doing some research.  Very easily distracted these days.  Looking up one thing on 'Google', something catches the eye so that bit gets followed, which leads to another string and end up not finding the facts I was looking for in the first place.  Very frustrating!

Now I'm half way through a conversation between three people and trying to make sure the reader doesn't get confused over who is saying what to whom.  Or why.

"Ruthermore Heidigens"

Just finished another proof-read of 'Ruthermore Heidigens'.  Might re-title it yet, we shall see about that.  It will largely depend on whether I can finish another story about him in my head first.

Usually go through the stories 20 to 30 times and, even then, I find typos and other errors.  After that the editor 'suggests' changes.  Sadly, the editor is usually right but it's very irritating having to redo work that you have considered as complete and finished!

Now to progress with "The Adepts - Book 3:  Pitch Perfect".  This will be a glimpse into where witches and warlocks come from....

Novels

About to get re-started on 'Book 3 - Pitch Perfect' of the 'Adepts' serioes of novels.  There has been so much else to do that time has prevented me from doing much with it.  A concerted effort is now in order to write it down before I forget what it was all about!!

'Rhittach'

Had great fun writing this one.  Just imagined what a young girl brought into a lethal world would think  -  and how she would think.


Life can be very harsh on the tundra but death is even harsher.

Short Stories

Some of the short stories are humorous.  Some are 'free to read' on www.davidleyman.com  (for a short while longer).  'Rhittach' is a sort of prequel to the 'Adepts' novels and three of the stories:
'Disc'
'Birth of an Enemy'
'The Return of the Prodigals'
combine sequentially to form the 'Deep Space Squadron' story.

Short Stories

Just finished another story.  Now there are thirty ready to go to print.

'The Family Skunk' A Sneak peek at the ‘Ins’ and ‘Outs’ of family life in Mrs Skunk’s household. What can you do?  They get older and they get more and more adventurous.  Next thing you know your life is full of panic.

'Armageddon at the Speed of Light' Just because you understand very little does not mean everything is inexplicable to everyone else.  But, often, it is. A colossal war between physical factions spreads doom at the speed of light.

'The Moral of the Russian Nobleman' A case of putting all one’s eggs in one, gilded, basket? A famous pun brought to life in an aristocratic manner.

'Seventy Two' A new angle on the Universe. How can you be lonely when you can dance on silent feet and revel in distant companionship?

'Pillbox' How many lives need to be spent to achieve one objective? Being in charge means making the tough decisions; how will you react when you find out the decisions were unnecessary?

'Quasimodo’s Apprentice' Quasimodo drops a clanger. Quasimodo needs an apprentice and puts an applicant through the ropes  -  and the window.

'South From Alaska' He was dying to tell her how much he loved her. A Science Fiction writer’s last flight of fancy.

'Silicon Ballet' Love is blind—and fatal.  Everywhere. Reuben is cute, Reuben is slow, Reuben is careful.

'When Fate is Sealed' How do you choose who is to die? This is happening now, to us.  Cheap parts to keep costs down will always be a problem.  Sometimes justice is slow, painful and poetic.

'Tracker' There is always a choice. Did he know the truth or was he guessing?  At some point in life a decision has to be made even if you know the result is going to be bad.

'Sunshine' Discard history at your peril. There will be a problem.  Tomorrow.  The problem will always be tomorrow.  The problem is always someone else’s it will never be our problem.

'Homework' A triumph of hope over experience. We wait for a better future rising out of a troublesome and lethal present.  Soon we will be free.  Soon.

'Winston’s Puzzle' A pedestrian tale of a Zebra crossing paths with the King. Winston was a ‘neigh-sayer’.  He makes disasters and catastrophes out of nothing.  Only Hawksworth can solve this problem for him.

'Three’s Company' How do you feel about re-incarnation when your best friend’s a cat who cooks? In an isolated rural community on the edge of nowhere lives a man who has a cat for company.  It is a community of conservatives who disapprove but who will not go against the memories.

'A Cross-Stitch in Time' You can go into the past, you can go far away and you can come back  -  but what do you leave behind? Some things you can neither calculate nor predict.  Adrianna was just too beautiful, too shapely and too tempting for an innocent ‘egg-head’.

'The Chewed-Off Willy' A lion’s dented pride. You wake up with the devil’s own hangover feeling really, really awful and thinking that things just cannot get worse when, suddenly, things get much worse.

'Maryam and the Whirly Thing' Maryam thought she had the best of several worlds but, to others, it might have been the worst. She overcame her fear of the ‘Whirly Thing’ and tried to use it to do good.  But sometimes ‘good’ is so elusive.

'The Defection of Kua' The law might not stop you but something, somewhere, always will. She was happy on her home planet, she was happier here.  Until that one thing, that one bad memory came and plagued her until even she snapped.

'Disc' Even dead men get revenge. You can only kill someone once.  It may be the worst kind of death but it is still only once.  But then they turn around and get you back.

'Life and Times of a Journey' What if you had been born a hundred years ago with what you know now? An adventure of the greatest possible magnitude in their time.  They had been chosen as the first interstellar astronauts.  Life is good.  Life is short.

'The Black Knight with the White Horse and the Red Balloon' The archetypal ‘Shaggy Dog’. Nonsense.  Just sheer nonsense.  But what fun nonsense is!

'Birth of an Enemy' Space has always been empty.  Except that now someone is filling it. As far as we knew we were alone in the galaxy.  We had encountered no other intelligent life form.  Now someone wants to kill us with our own ships.  Have we made our ships too intelligent or is someone out there hunting us?

'The Tale of Hermann Limpitt' Just because you’ve seen ‘Gorillas in the Mist’ doesn’t mean you know everything about them. There are times when, no matter who or where you are, you just have to spend a penny.

'Meevo' In a polluted world where climate has shifted radically, there lurk mutants.  Some are good but many are not.  One is evil. The best squad of the best soldiers are mobilised to find and erase one mutant.  A mutant who will make you see what he wants you to see.

'Crater' They arrived by accident but now they know we are here.  They want to harvest us and our planet.  We want to live.  There can be only one winner. They are ‘immortal’.  We breed.  They want us  -  dead.  We want them  -  dead.

'Crater II' They arrived by accident but now they know we are here.  They want to harvest us and our planet.  We want to live.  There can be only one winner. They are ‘immortal’.  We breed.  They want us  -  dead.  We want them  -  dead.

'Ruthermore Heidigens' The Greatest Wizard in the Known Universe.  The Only Wizard in the Known Universe. The biter bit.  You con me, I con you.  Sorry about the ‘man in the middle’.

'The Hags of Teeb' Be careful what you try to get because you may not know you’ve got it. A bit of inter-racial bigotry never did any harm.  Not in the long term, anyway.

'The Return of the Prodigals' Everyone who thinks they are omnipotent should realise that there is always somebody bigger, tougher, wiser—and luckier. The Deep Space Squadron gets its first break courtesy of a ‘Social Worker’ and goes into battle

'Rhittach  -  The Beginning' You can’t keep a good girl down.  Sometimes it’s even harder keeping a bad girl down. She was born on the tundra and raised in a fighting school.  She never had a chance to become a woman, only a killing machine.