Its not Easy

 It’s not easy creating a world. I realise that may sound obvious, but when it comes to writing fiction, the gap between short stories and longer pieces really is immense. In a short story, you don’t really need to develop your backdrop that much, the size of the piece allows you a certain freedom in continuity and explanation; but when it comes to a bigger story, well let’s just say that the problems multiply.

I’m about 14000 words into my novel, and I’m really coming up against some major obstacles. Firstly, I can’t remember who half the people are, and what they’ve done, even what they are called causes me difficulties. Then there’s the backdrop, the “World” if you like, it has to be believable, and sound possible; given that its science fiction I guess you are allowed a certain license but the technology has to at least sound possible, and mustn’t overshadow the plot or characters.

Also I don’t really find it easy naming places, people or things; it must have been the reason that Victorian explorers always called the places they found after the Royal Family, or home. Again they have to sound believable. Trouble is, it would be so easy to start obsessing about the detail without seeing the bigger picture, which is to get the plot right, and the rest will follow.

So at the moment, I’m reading the story every time I make a new piece of dialogue, or situation, just to make sure it fits. I suppose the alternative would be to write resumes of all the characters and places, but that would end up longer than the book. Or I could just finish the story and rewrite it from the back.

When the Wave Comes.

Here’s my next offering, a story that I first had an idea for in 1979, I had a dream of the wave and the beach and the people, and it all fitted together, as if I had lived it somewhere. I didn’t do anything about it for years, but it kept nagging away at my mind, every now and again I would have the dream, and mean to write it down, but somehow life got in the way. Eventually, I got around to putting it on paper and realised that, although the basic idea was interesting, I needed something, apart from just the wave, so I tried to construct a bit of a relationship around it. I think it got a bit rushed at the end, probably because it was my original intention to have it as a descriptive piece.

It’s called When the Wave Comes.

 

When the Wave Comes.

Rik was scared, he told his mother:

“Mother I’m scared” he said,

Why? She asked,

“When the wave comes, I’m scared that I’ll run, and then I’ll be a Keldav and I wont have a  family or a future and I will have to slave all my life” the words came out in a rush.

His mother put her arm around him, he was small for his age, and it was true that he was not physically imposing, like his father or brothers, even the younger ones. But he was her favourite for his quiet intelligence and willingness to help.

“Now then:” she told him, “it’s natural to be scared, everyone is and the wave will prove that you’re an adult and then you won’t be a Keldav.”

“But Dror says that I will run, or that I wont even dare to turn up at the Ancestors wall,” Dror was of an age with Rik but large, loud and outwardly confident, everything that Rik was not, naturally he was looking forward to the wave, to prove his manhood, no-one doubted that Dror would not run.

“After the wave you will be able to choose a second name” said his mother ” everyone will know that you faced the wave and did not run, I will be even more proud of you, and your father will take you into the craftsmen’s guild. Take no notice of Dror and be strong in yourself”.

Rik left his dwelling and walked through the city streets, unconsciously heading towards the wall of ancestors that lay at the eastern edge of the island city of Keth. Three moons were in the sky, Rik knew that once a cycle, when the four moons were in a line with the sun, a larger than usual tide was generated, running around the planet and sweeping all the island cities with a wave of portent and passage. All those males approaching adulthood stood outside the wall, on the sandy beach and let the wave wash over them. Those who remained after its passage were acclaimed as adult and could marry and take second names. Those who would not stand were Keldav- cowards, and were fit only for servitude and ridicule.

There were three days to the wave, already the wall was thronged with people, scraps of parchment had been pushed into the cracks in its brickwork, prayers for those who would take the wave, and some for those who had vanished or failed in previous years.

Dror pushed his way through the crowds until he stood in front of Rik “hello small one” he grinned, “You’re early, there’s three days to go yet, or are you just working out which way you will run?”

“I’m not frightened of the wave or of you” said Rik, but his expression gave away his real thoughts.

Larris, the daughter of his neighbour joined them before Dror could reply “Hello you two” she said “are you excited yet?” She looked at Rik with interest, they had grown up together and it was expected by there families that they would eventually marry, Dror however had other ideas, “Hello Larris, you wont be quite so interested in him when he runs, you would be better off with me than that Keldav”.

Larris sprung to Rik’s defence, “Well I think that he will stand, and when he does, it will prove him worthy, you will have to stop teasing him then”.

Dror’s gaze narrowed, “You don’t think that he would be man enough for you do you?” he sneered, “You would be far better off with me, he will never stand.” There was contempt in his voice.

Rik felt tears welling up in his eyes, he turned and ran away, Dror’s jeers ringing in his ears, “look at him its not even here and he’s off”.

That night, Rik lay in his bed listening to his parents talking, “I worry for him” said his father “For I don’t think he will be strong enough to stand, he is too small, look at his brothers, they were bigger and yet they could not survive”

“Be still, said his mother, There is a strength in him, It’s is just that he doesn’t realise it yet” Rik felt comforted by her words and slept, his dreams filled with waves and taunts.

Rik kept away from Dror and Larris for the next two days, it wasn’t fair, Dror had everything and made him feel small by his presence, and he knew that Dror thought that he was just not up to the challenge of adulthood.

It started in the ocean deeps, halfway around the world, the moons alignment pulled the oceans up and the spin of the planet sent the wave racing around the world.

The first the inhabitants of Keth knew was the lowering of the tide, instead of its usual ebb, the water level sank lower than it had been for a full cycle, and the Ancients watching signalled the arrival of the wave, the chance for all those brave enough to prove their manhood.

Rik was awoken from sleep by his father, “Come now son its time to go to the wall”, his father had had six sons, four had already stood for the wave, only two had returned.              

Rik roused himself and prepared for his ordeal, he dressed simply, nothing was allowed that would help him stand, except a staff of green wood. Rik had cut and trimmed his own, as was the custom, if he survived it would form part of his proof that he had stood.

As he made his way to the wall the crowds thronged around him, he hadn’t realised that there were so many people in the city.

The City Elder started the ceremony as the water level started to rise, standing on top of the wall, he called down the spirits of the Ancients to bless the passing of boys into men, and prayers for those who would not return.

Next he called a list of all those who were of age to stand, Rik and Dror answered there names but there were several who were not present. At the end of the calling the Elder Declared “All those who have not answered are now Keldav, I declare them slaves to those who stand and return”. He gestured to the horizon, a faint dark line was visible on top of the sea, “Take your places as boys, return as Men” he chanted, and the crowd began to repeat the call, there voices swelling in the morning light.

Rik and Dror were side by side on the beach, there green wood staffs dug into the soft golden sand, angled toward the horizon whilst the crowd chanted at there backs “Go as Boys, Return as Men, Go as Boys, Return as Men, Go as Boys, Return as Men”,

Over there chant a soft hum could be heard, growing louder as the wave neared, the water level was rising fast now, it lapped around the feet of the group of boys, now around there ankles. As a group they lent forward into the face of the onrushing wall of green water, backlit by the sun.

Suddenly to the left of the group three boys turned and ran, dropping there staffs they fled up the beach and into the safety of the city behind the wall. The crowds chant changed “Keldav, Keldav” they cried, the chant of the coward, these were as bad as the ones that had not arrived, they had failed to become men.

Dror turned to Rik “About time you ran isn’t it” he said, his voice faint over the roar of the wave, it was slowing now in the shallows, but it was rising, now it towered above them, and started to break.

“I’m not going anywhere” replied Rik, and the wave hit the group.

It felt to Rik as if all the air was knocked out of his body, he was pushed backward, his staff was almost torn from his grip and he felt himself tumbling head over heels. He felt another body bump into him and he clutched at it, whilst trying to anchor the staff back into the sand

The water was filled with swirling sand, blinding him, but he could make out the sun above him and could feel the force of the wave weakening as he managed to push the staff into the sand, holding the limp body with his other hand.

His head broke the surface and he sucked in a deep breath, the wave had passed and he was alive, he had stood. He could hear cheering and crying from the top of the wall as the water level dropped. Looking around him, he made out a small group of men, not boys now, but very few of them. He realised he was still holding a body and looked down, it was Dror and he was unconscious, he shook him “come on Dror, wake up”, but the boy didn’t move.

Larris came running down the beach toward him, “Rik” she called” I’m so proud of you, Dror was lost but you held him”, she flung her arms around him. Beside them Dror jerked, coughed and spluttered and moaned weakly. Kneeling; Rik and Larris helped him to sit up. His hair and face were covered with sand, but his eyes focused on them as he regained his senses. “Thank you Rik” he whispered” I will never doubt you after that, I thought I was gone but you saved me”.

On top of the wall Rik’s mother and father gazed down on the scene below, “I told you” said his mother “He was as brave and strong as any, he only needed to find it for himself.

Something to think about

A bit of a rant follows, you may not agree with me, and have your own views, well that’s fine,  I am setting out on this site to provoke thought, rattle cages and generally say what I think. I respect all opinions, and their right to be heard. So roll up your sleeves, put your typing fingers on and join in. I just hope we can still be friends afterwards.

I’ve been thinking about the story I put up last time, and although it was written 5 years ago, I think the implied criticism of the whole system is still valid. If you haven’t read it, perhaps you might like to before you read this.

Personally, I have a lot of admiration for teachers, I couldn’t do the job, but I wonder if they are not being let down by society, both parental and governmental. I guess that the problem is very large and complex, and has been a long time getting to the state that we are in today.

At the risk of sounding terribly right wing (which I’m not), I wonder if two events aren’t connected.

First, is the reason that private schools have more exam success and a higher proportion of “high achievers” the fact that they are “Posh” and elite, or is it that the rest of the system is being left behind. Do teachers inspire as well in both systems and is there a desire to learn in both? Is it easier to teach children who want to learn, who are prepared for learning and who have back up in their lives? I’m not a fan of private education, but for it to consistently outperform suggests something is wrong with the whole system.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I often wonder if the cure for all the worlds problems is latent in a brain somewhere, destined never to be brought out because of apathy, or lack of resources.

The Soviet Union may have had its faults, but they were relentless in their development of talent in every field, identifying potential and refining it.

And you have to wonder, in a time of financial constraints, or at any time, isn’t the most important thing the education of the next generation?

I have to be honest, I am a product of the 11+ system, but I don’t consider myself privileged in any way because I passed and went to a Technical School. Just as it's wrong to label anyone as a “Failure”, because they don’t achieve what you think they should. Everyone has their own particular strength and the system should be designed to determine what it is and develop it. My life would have been just as valid had I failed my 11+, and I’m sure that in general the selection system worked as well as any such system could. And I still think that selection by ability is the best ways to raise standards, if it isn’t then why do so many other countries still do it?

Back to me, maybe I shouldn’t have gone on as a pass because I failed nearly all my O Levels and had to do year 11 (or the fifth year as it was then) again. It was only then that I got the motivation to succeed, coupled with some brilliant teachers, and the realisation that life was not easy, everyone did not win prizes, and that failure was no-ones fault but mine.

Like I said, I’m not really political, I was once but age has given me a much wider view of things, in fact I get exasperated with all politicians, particularly the ones that have never had to make a profit, or run a business, or live in the real world. It often seems that politics is more important to them than the people who put them where they are. And you shouldn’t really play point-scoring politics with peoples lives. Nor should you automatically do the opposite of whatever the other lot spent five years doing, just because “they” did it.

Maybe that’s part of the answer to my first point; state education seems to change its plans every few years, instead of continuing with a long term strategy that leaves everyone knowing what’s likely to be going on in 10 or more years, whereas the private sector has been happily pursuing the same route forever.

Whew! That’s got that out of the way, I hope I don’t sound too rabid. Lighter things next time.

Welcome to the site, here I will be posting the occasional piece of creative writing for honest comment.

First the legal bit.

All work on here is my own and is copyright to me.

No Cut and Paste (I flatter myself to assume that)

Everything is Fiction (unless stated) and no reference is intended to any person or place.

Now that’s out of the way, we can get on with the serious stuff.

To start the ball rolling, here is a short story that I wrote in 2007, for a competition. The brief was 1200 words about school. I didn’t get any feedback, but think I may have interpreted the subject in an unsuitable manner. I wasn’t trying to make any sort of point, although it now seems that I might have been. If I were writing it today, it may have been quite a different piece.

 

School.

            The applause swelled as I walked slowly toward the podium, my progress halted by the throng around me. As I passed every row, the people on the end, and those further in, stood up and reached across to shake my hand, pat me on the back, touching me almost reverently. The Chairman of the Award Committee continued speaking above the din of applause, I could make out a word here and there……….. “Youngest ever Nobel Prize-winner”…….. “Important breakthrough”………….. “Real end in sight for this disease”…….

            Now I had climbed the steps and crossed to the dais, more handshaking, turning to face the sea of faces with the applause slowly dying away, the chairman again, now that he could be heard was saying my name and repeating my achievements….. “Winner of the Nobel Prize for Medicine, for his work on the synthesis of a genetically engineered treatment for Cancers……. Doctor Daniel Chimba”

           

            The hall was hushed, I cleared my throat,

“Ladies and Gentlemen, colleagues…………….Thank you for the honour you do me today, I would like with your permission to take you back to where this all started. To Davis Lane Technology College in Deptford, This was where I first developed an interest in Human Biology, where I first realised that I wanted to be a doctor.”

             As I spoke the words I could still see it in my mind, my first day at secondary school. Autumn had come early that year, and all summer the builders had been busy at the Davis Lane School. It had been decided by the council, with the aid of a large Government grant, that the old secondary modern was to be upgraded to a technology college, new classrooms had been built, a new science block equipped, and new teachers employed. Not without local problems, the project had been seen as a source of free building materials and a private security company had to be based on site to stop the steady stream of pilfering that had threatened to stall the work. I had spent a large part of the summer holidays borrowing tools and equipment, good sellers around the estate.

            But now the place was open, and this was my first day, at 13 I hadn’t really decided what to do with my life, as most 13 year olds Football was the only important thing in my life, coming from Woolwich it was Charlton Athletic and I was one of the most ardent supporters, never afraid to fight for my teams honour.

            My first Human Biology lesson was a real eye-opener, the teacher, Mr Weston, was so enthusiastic about his subject, and made it so interesting that I found it impossible not to be swept up and soon found myself top of the class in the subject. It was funny, until now I had never been academic at school, in fact I preferred to play around, and was always in trouble for disruptive behaviour. But now, with my interest developing, I found myself moving away from my old cronies, as my knowledge increased I needed more

mental stimulation, as if a dam to learning had been removed, even joining the group of students that last year I would have despised as Geeks.

                       

In turn my old friends lost interest in me and I even stopped going to football. I certainly stopped fighting about it. In most of my classes was Sally, a Ghanaian like me, I had known her for years, she lived in the next street, but I had never really paid her much attention. But now I sat next to her at as many lessons as possible, and although I didn’t realise it yet she would be my wife and colleague through all that was to follow. She told me that I had always seemed crude and slightly frightening; I had never considered that others thought of me in that way.

            And after not knowing what I wanted to do, I was going to be a Doctor. It was not a question of maybe, I was straight A material and medical schools fought over my application.

            My parents noticed the change in me and initially viewed it with some suspicion, my mother was a cleaner and my father worked in a local factory, unskilled immigrants they may have been but they encouraged me to stay on for Sixth form and University, somehow I managed to survive financially, and after the hell of being a junior doctor, I knew that I wanted to spend my career in research.

             All these thoughts were in my head as I continued to speak…………..  “Mr Brian Weston, who awoke my interest in Human Biology, if it hadn’t have been for him I would not be standing here today. Also all the staff at my research laboratory in Cambridge, they deserve this as much as I do.”

           

            Cambridge, where I ended up working as a research doctor for a large multi-national drug company was such a change from my home in Woolwich, I had chosen to train in London, and had been a junior doctor in city hospitals, so moving to the county had been a real eye opener, had thought that the air smelt “Funny” for ages, not immediately realising that it was the lack of pollution that made it seem so fresh. The relaxed atmosphere in our lab, and the team of young, enthusiastic researchers had made progress easy, we were trying to augment plant compounds that were thought to help reduce tumour development, many of them were based on African Tribal remedies and my family background helped in my field trips, it gave me an affinity with tribal healers and leaders. Our Big breakthrough came with a combination of herbal medicines from several West African tribes and the cellular structure of the HIV virus, we used its ability to enter and corrupt healthy cells to deliver the herbal extracts, and destroy the cells ability for disorganised division. In effect, stopping any mutation in its tracks.

             I had just about finished my speech,     “So once again thank you, and I feel proud to have been able to help in the fight against disease” I turned to leave the stage.

            I could hear my mothers voice above all the renewed applause         “Daniel….. Daniel…. Are you going to stay in bed all day or have you forgotten, school starts today?

            As I walked along Davis Lane toward the school, talking with my mates about football on Saturday, my dream was almost forgotten, by tomorrow it would be replaced with one that had me scoring for Charlton at Wembley. I idly kicked at an old newspaper blowing in the autumn breeze; the headline looked up at me.

“SCHOOL DEVELOPMENT PLAN ABANDONED AS CASH RUNS OUT”