I couldn't put my finger on it

I had to laugh the other day. I was poof reading a section of a client’s book I’m writing when something niggled out of the page at me. I couldn’t put my finger on it straight away, but I was aware that I had been burning a little midnight oil and was on the lookout for any interesting little errors a tired brain can easily produce.

Sitting at my screen late at night is not usually my preferred working style. However, sometimes a client may request reasonable additional work to a manuscript at the last minute. Rather than derail the timetables of others: editors, page layout peeps, proof readers et cetera, this glitch in the schedule is best dealt with expediently, and the task naturally comes to me, the writer.

I know many of my colleagues prefer to tap away by the light of the silvery moon, starlight, or guttering candle. Oops, forget the guttering candle bit—that’s my creative mind kicking in—it’s more likely to be with a cup or three strong coffees hitting the gut. But, that’s what works best for them—quiet time—no phones, TVs, kids or other distractions. If I tried that on regular basis I’d have QWERTY permanently imprinted on my forehead.

By the light of a guttering candle

Oh, yes, my error. I did find it and, in the process, found another. They weren’t that dramatic, but they’d have made my editor’s day if they’d slipped through. I was writing some dialogue where a homosexual was being confronted and being accused of being a pouf. Yes, that’s the same pouf—an 18th century, women’s hairstyle, not the poof of my story. Then my eye caught the second gaffe. My gay hero was straining beneath the yolk of oppression, and I’m sure if he wasn’t careful about it, he’d have egg all over his face.

I felt quite pleased with myself. I’d avoided giving my editor something to laugh about and the opportunity to insist on my buying his coffee. But I still wasn’t satisfied, and in doing a little more research found that pouf, as well as poof, can actually be used as a derogatory term for a homosexual.

More than one way to trap an editor

Now, should I leave the pouf in place and attempt to trap my editor, upping the ante and tricking him into buying my coffee AND a large piece of chocolate cake? What do you think?

And did I get you on that proof reading pun in the intro?

That old security guard

How many times have you heard the expression, “Everyone’s got at least one book in them”? In non-fiction terms, I believe that everyone has—as long as they’re old, crazy, or experienced enough to have had some life experience. Of course fiction is a different story. You only need a vivid imagination. Well, along with a bucket load of passion, discipline and an awesome plot—hmm, quite a lot really.

Swinging back to non-fiction, because that’s what I mostly deal with, I’d like to tell you a little story about how the most unlikely people have the most fascinating tales to tell. But, before I do that, I’d like to ask you to think about the people we come across in our daily lives. Do they have stories to tell? How about the old security guard who checks your pass every day—ex SAS commando maybe? And the cab driver who drove you to the airport this morning—could he be a screenwriter or novelist, or a refugee with a harrowing story of loss and survival? I’ve heard one of those bios and it was only because I asked the right questions.

The art of studied indifference

The other day I listened to part of an interview on the radio. It referred to the art of studied indifference, an art in which the speaker claimed New York subway users took top prize. In my experience, she was right. Take the London tube, or the Paris metro, in the evening (Friday nights are good) and almost every trip will be highlighted by an event. And it doesn’t matter whether it’s disgusting, hilarious, poignant, or plain daft, everyone will be openly scoping it out, if not joining in.

However, take the same event and repeat it on the NY subway and you’ll see scores of people continue to (pretend to) read, stare studiously into the middle distance, feign sleep, push their iWhatevers deeper into their heads and do everything possible not to acknowledge what’s happening around them.

After Hiroshima and Nagasaki

As I was listening to this story, I was reminded of an evening some twenty years ago. I was staying at a smart, upmarket guest house in Tasmania where the hosts had a very agreeable policy of lumping all the guests together for dinner at the same large, round table. They had the only restaurant for miles, so if you didn’t want room service—that was it.

We were a merry bunch; getting very loud and boisterous as the wine flowed, nicely encouraged by the fact that nobody had to drive. As the night wore on, I noticed a more elderly couple who weren’t joining in the banality, and decided late in the piece to have a slurred sort of chat.

I had about ten minutes before they left, and it turned out to be one of the shortest ten minutes of my life. The couple—from the US—were both retired physicists who had worked right alongside Robert Oppenheimer to develop the atomic bomb. Horrified after the blasts at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, they’d migrated to NASA where they’d been directly involved in the Apollo manned moon landings and a bunch of other fascinating stuff.

Who's sitting right next to you now?

The next morning I hurried downstairs to the dining room hoping to catch a little more of their story, but I was too late. The couple had left for a hike at first light. I’ve thought about them many times since and would like to thank them publicly in this blog for that brief window into their extraordinary lives. I’ve no doubt that fleeting meeting went a long way to developing the intense interest I have in people today.

Amazing who’s sitting right next to you, isn’t it?

I had a weird experience the other day. I’m perfectly comfortable talking with people and recording our chats with a view to writing books for them—that’s my job. But, I was taken right out of my comfort zone when Ian Kath, interviewer extraordinaire, decided that he’d like to create a podcast episode about ghostwriting.

Ian Kath, a genuine and sincere man

For once I’d be on the other end of the microphone and I wasn’t really sure if I liked that idea. However, after only a few minutes, I warmed to Ian’s genuine and sincere personality and, realising I would be in safe hands, decided to give it a go.

Ian, the mastermind behind two fascinating podcast websites—yourstorypodcast.com and creatyourlifestory.com—has decided to follow his passion and “create a space in my life for change, a place to meet new and interesting people and a place to create a way for some others to see how others live and develop a little more empathy for others so that we will realise that fundamentally we are all the same and want similar things as each other and that there is more that connects us than separates us.”

I had no idea where Ian was going to go with this interview. There was no preparation at all. We just sat down and had a great conversation. And here it is: