The Space

I had an energy drink to help with the marking hell yesterday and then I had a business idea while out with my Boy getting chocolate on a walk whilst my Lovely took a driving lesson and the Girl to her own drama group.

Anyway, yes, I saw an empty building on the town high street, the business of people walking around, and heard the noise and the frenetic nature of the errands being run. And it got me thinking. What if you owned a business that was mostly automated doors, maybe a couple of private pods, and then simply sound-proofed them, removed signal for phones and wi-fi and charged by the minute for the use of the space? In somewhere like London, Manchester, Leeds, New York or Singapore you might get a bit of passing trade as people looked for somewhere quiet to be alone.

What would they do in there? How would you prevent abuse of the facilities? Well, CCTV, obviously, with monitoring. Wait! I thought, why CCTV? Why not a webcam to broadcast live to the internet? Then you could have a pay-per-view online. The rent for the space would cover the rent or lease on the building and the pay per view would provide a profit. Do it right and it would go viral too.

Then you could add another floor. What if you could rent beds by the hour? It may work out cheaper than a hotel in some of these locations. Add some cameras and you have a whole new area to exploit for money. By this point the beds would be pure profit as would any extra proceeds from the pay per view website. It would capitalise on our love of voyeurism and reality TV as well as play with the notions of privacy (people renting a space to be alone knowing that they are being broadcast on the internet but with no way of checking what they look like). And whilst it would probably work as a business idea I think it would be fascinating as a fiction project.

So, here I am planting the idea in my blog. I hope to start writing something to do with it soon.

If you use it for business or for fiction, let people know you got it from me, that's all I ask (though if you make money and want to send me royalties, that's nice too).

St Avril: A Sci Fi interlude?

Well, for one reason or another, the Prehistoric stuff isn't flowing and, instead, I was set upon by a rewriting of an introduction to a sci-fi story I once wrote. Back in 2001 I had a very vivid dream about a psychic who wakes up without knowledge of what is going on. Of course, I wrote it down and reworked it over the next six years into a finished novella-style piece about 45k words in length. And there it has lain ever since.

Tonight, the opening attacked me in first person. So I wrote it.

Analysis courtesy of 750words.com, please support what they do, because it is awesome.

Rating: PG-13 for sexual content (bu-wha?) and violence (again, bu-wha?)

Feeling mostly upset (apparently) and concerned mostly with money (huh?) or eating and drinking(?)

Mindset: Introvert - Positive - Certain - Thinking

Time: The Past; Primary Sense: Hearing (hmm); Us and Them: Them (surprising, it's in first person)

27 minutes at 54 words per minute

Opening words and centenaries

I've been reading a lot about how to start novels lately, it's a habit of mine, and how to introduce characters quickly and in such a way as to draw in the reader. And, I'm sorry to say, much of what I read is uninspiring. I don't mean to say that this should not be the aim of authors or that anyone who writes should not emulate those that are successful, but I worry that there has been a dumbing down of what we mean by this.

Swiftly put: I'm not at all convinced that some of the examples I've been reading do any of the jobs that people who quote them say they do. None of the 'great' openings by mainstream authors that I have read seem to do it terribly well, in fact, they instead seem to plumb for the long opening that leaves it until, say, the third or fourth page to draw the reader in. What do I mean? I mean authors that are famous enough to trade on their name tend to skimp on this art, because it's bloody hard to do, and these authors are the ones that get used by newbie writers and wannabe authors to explain what they mean. It does both sides something of a disservice.

My other thought, for my time is tight, is that the First World War nears a centenary and this will mean a sudden influx of books, films and plays about that area of history. My own novel may well be badly timed in this regard as there will be bigger names making plays at publishing for the next five years and many many unpublished authors also trying to get noticed with 'novel' takes on the First World War novel. Given that's what my own novel has become I'm not certain that it would get noticed at all.

Decision made

Okay, I am go with the evil dictator who is autistic plot.

Potential start point I stole from Placebo's A Song to say Goodbye video.  It may help ground the whole thing.  It may end up being the whole thing.  I may be insane.

Wish me luck you lovelies and I'll see you on the morning when we are so up for typing 'til our fingertips are raw and bleeding.  Only, y'know, in a less icky way than that.

The Day The Tanks Came

"Hans!"

Summer had come early and the shout was almost muffled by the torpid air.

"What is it?" Hans had been looking forward to a lazy afternoon with the family, little Addy was ready to work in the fields now and Anna had been making noises about a third child, a duty that he had been anticipating nicely.

"Hans, have you been able to get anything on the radio?"

Rudolf was a worrier, the whole village knew it, and had never been a ranking officer despite having been in the army almost as long as service allowed.  Old age had failed to take the edge from his concern but nor had it made him any harder to live with.  As a single man he was unusual but he was well-liked and a useful man to know in case of electrical repairs.  "No, Rudi, you know I don't bother with that thing."  Sometimes the music was nice, but lately it had become a little political for his tastes, "Besides, since when did we need it?"

"Hans, I listen to the radio always, and I tell you that it has gone. Now, what do you think of that?" Rudolf's face was flushed, he'd been running.

"I tell you that you spend too long listening to the radio and now there has been a break in the service and that it will do you some good."

"Hans... Mister Group-Leader, I-"

"Please, not now," Hans cut him off, the rank brought back a whole phalanx of memories that he had long ago grown tired of dealing with. "Rudi, you are a radio man, that is fine.  Go ask Konnie if he has anything and then work with him, yes?  For now, it is Summer, it is nearly harvest and I have 'duties' to perform for my family.  I do not expect you to understand but I do expect you to give me some peace."

"They were talking of the Front again-"

"And they always will, you know that.  Now, run along to Konnie, he may have more time for you."

Konrad was new to the village, recently discharged with distinction, and had a young family.  Starting was always hard, but the cameraderie of the Old Guard meant that he had been well-supported, and his aptitude with technology made him a natural appointment for the village broadcast and reciever station.  It saved him from running his own fields, something Hans doubted the youngster would enjoy, and meant that they had enjoyed the full benefits of the radio for some months, something Hans reflected on with some pained displeasure.

"Yes of course, Mis-"

"Oh, just leave man!"  Hans turned and walked off his porch as pointedly as he could, deliberately ignoring the obvious salute.  Rudolf was a walking testament to why men needed to be married: so that they could turn their worries and anxieties to real concerns rather than phantasmogorical ones.