A neglected Subject.

Unless I am very wrong I have not posted about my writing and my WIP since mid July.

That seems unbelievable. This work is so much part of my life, yet I haven’t shared it.

Yet in some ways I have not done much that I could really talk about. My last news was that I had completed a first draft and was sorting the sections into the order they will remain.

OK I can say I’ve completed that.

Having said that I have to admit the past couple of months have not been very productive with the WIP.

To be fair to myself I have been plugging along fairly steadily at it. Most days I would be spending an hour or an hour and a half on rewriting.

I have also written a few sections from scratch (when I put the whole together there seemed to be a few gaps). But until last week I have to say I really felt like I was going round in circles.

I was actually beginning to wonder if the whole work was missing something. I like the characters, I like the overall story, but it felt like it was not working.

Then over the past week, I am not quite sure why, I felt much more positive. I made some changes in a few chapters which led me to write a couple more “filler” sections. Now I feel like I am back on track.

It might sound odd, but I am just about to begin reading it aloud to Deb. That is a step I took with my first novel Veiled in Shadows, just before I sent it out to other readers.

I find reading aloud really positive. It let’s me pick a lot of stupid errors. And as a bonus I get my first external perspective. If it passes muster with Deb I am then game to share it with others.

Then I can start thinking about finding Beta-readers.

Gratuitous Waterfall shot.Next: Can you handle more waterfalls?

A Milestone (of Sorts)

My progress on my WIP continues to move along, although not as quickly as I would like. As you may know I have been working long hours recently tidying up to leave my previous job in good order and now trying to get on top of my new job as quickly as possible.

At the moment I am up at 5:30am and on the train as soon as I can get to the station. Then I am usually home late and hit the sack about an hour or two after I stagger in the door. This doesn't leave much time for anything during the week.

This has meant some things have had to slip a bit. First I have become really slack at responding to your comments on my blog, I promise I will fix this as soon as things ease up a bit.
Second I am not visiting as many of your blogs as I would like and even when I do I tend to lurk without commenting.

Part of my long day is a commute of over an hour at each end. This is normally a blessing in disguise because it gives me time to write. I'm still managing an hour of writing time most mornings. Unfortunately things haven't been as good in the evenings, with long days I have tended to sit vacantly staring at my PC screen through sheer exhaustion, plus if I leave late the train is usually crowded so I often don't get a seat for the first half of the trip.

Now that is my whining for tonight. Because despite all that I have still reached a milestone. I am provisionally saying I have finished writing my first draft of my WIP.

Relaxing Photo Break

Freycinet Penninsula (Tasmania) in evening light

Why provisionally? Well I'm cheating a bit, as I have said before I am writing each stream of POV separately with the aim of weaving them together afterwards. Well I have reached the 'afterwards' bit. Most of my narrators have finished their stories. The ones that haven't are waiting impatiently on me. If the text I have slides together nicely some of my narrators will add a few comments and I'll move on to thinking about a second draft.

But, and this is a big but, I suspect that as I go I will likely have to adjust some strands to get them to even vaguely fit. And there is some background material for some characters that I don't think I will have to flesh out if the piece sits nicely as a whole.

I hope all this is making sense. Any way apart from some frustration about hours in the day it is going well.

So what about you? Have you ever had times when your life felt like it wasn't your own?

Gratuitous Rainforest Fungi Shot

100,495

My WIP crept over 100,000 words today. A couple of months ago I thought that I would have reached my estimated completion of about 120,000 by now. That is the down side of targets and deadlines; you can miss them.

However I am pretty much content with where I am. Things have been a little slow, because of a number of factors mostly about being tired and not writing as well as I could during my commute. But as I have said recently I’ve been distracted by thinking about some future writing projects.

But in the end my main reason has been the WIP itself. The novel begins in 1940 and finishes in 1952. I am writing it in multiple POV, one perspective at a time.
I ran into two problems. First, as I began to think about the process of patching the story together I began to worry I would end up with a bit of an anti-climax. I have moved away from sections of my original outline and I had this sudden dread that the new plot didn’t quite work. After a lot of thought I think it does, especially with a little tweaking. But in the end that is the sort of feedback I will be seeking from beta readers.

Second I have all but decided to remove one of the POVs. I like the character’s perspective, but all he really does is give a counter view of some scenes. The character will remain in the story, but the sections featuring his narration have fallen from the word count.

So to finish my first draft I have to finish one character’s perspective (probably around another 5,000 words) and write the majority of one of my antagonist’s perspective (I think about 12,000 words). Yes in my novels ‘the bad guys’ get to share their perspective. After all it is worth noting they think they are the ‘good guys’.

So finally a couple of questions.
Have you ever got most of the way through a project and realised part of it didn’t work?
When it comes to books how long is too long?

Now two piccies from Tassie.
Fungi Mount Field National ParkRainforest stream Mount Field National Park

Al goes nuts about POV

My post of the other day has got me thinking.

I talked about writing in a non-linear fashion. That is something that most people who commented did not generally do. It seems that people will generally swap POV as they go rather than jump around like I am at the moment.

That got me thinking about POV and how many I have in my current WIP. It’s quite a few. In fact my WIP Veiled in Storms has no less than five narrators.

But then I sat down and counted how many voices contribute to my first novel Veiled in Shadows. It is, wait for it… eleven.

That’s right no less than eleven characters contributing in some way to the narrative flow.

Now to be sure there are (only) six main narrators. Then there are…

Wait a minute it’s actually twelve voices. I went to count less important narrators and realised I’d missed one!

Six major narrators, all of whom narrate as if speaking. But then it gets a little more complex, two of the minor narrators also speak, but the third ‘talks’ through the medium of a record of interrogation. He is one of a few real historical persons in my book and his ‘voice’ is based in part on his actual interrogation as a prisoner in 1945.

One of the three extra voices speaks as a narrator, another takes the form a of a one page letter and the third is presented as a two page police report.

By now you must think I have a serious case of multiple personality disorder.
So what do you think, does it sound too complicated?

From my perspective it was a challenge to write, but an enjoyable challenge. Interestingly none of the people who have read or reviewed the book have said (at least to me) that it felt fractured or disjointed.

Two piccies from my archive. And given I am talking about writing I am going to feature libraries today. The first is a small rural library in the gold-rush era town of Clunes.The second is a suburban Melbourne library. The Fitzroy Library is in the suburb of Fitzroy. It is a grand structure built with gold-rush money in the nineteenth century.

Al Rambles

I mentioned the other day that I had plots worked out for a couple of extra novels, one of which was a YA piece. I find it very odd to be thinking about writing YA, I've never wanted to write anything for young people before. Although I must say when my girls bought books I always queued up to have my turn reading them. Sometimes my imagination gets even more active than usual and this is one of the things that popped out.

I don't dare do more than a rough outline or I might get carried away from what I am currently writing.

On the subject of the WIP, I've taken a slightly different tack with writing this one.
Both the WIP and my first book are written from multiple points of view. The narrative is broken up so we get differing perspectives on many of the events in the plot.

With Veiled in Shadows I began at the start and wrote to the end. Generally, I switched perspective as I came to the section I was writing. So I mainly wrote from start to finish for most drafts, although I did leave sections when I got ‘stuck’.

With my WIP I am (mostly) writing one character's perspective at a time right through the whole stream of the book. Then I move back to the start for the next character. But it is all written in chunks that will be pasted together at the end.

I think this has a huge advantage in terms of keeping with the flow of each character.

But there is a downside. Because characters are not present in each scene writing the over arching narrative seems more disjointed. Also I will have to be extra careful about continuity when it comes to bringing it all back together.

What do you think - would you prefer to write from beginning to end, or would you prefer to explore characters one at a time?

Do you enjoy reading stories that are from multiple POV?

Finally two piccies from my archive. A snowy mountain road as a reminder it is winter down this way.And that relative of the platypus an echidna or spiny ant eater. These guys, like platypus, are egg-laying mammals.

Two Speed Al

This is a long weekend down in Oz. We have ‘the Queen’s Birthday Holliday’ tomorrow. Normally I see myself as a republican, but I guess I’ll celebrate the good Queen’s day if it means a day off from work :-)

For those of you who don’t know, Oz is still a monarchy! We have not entirely cut our ties with the British Empire and Queen Elizabeth II is still our queen Downunder.

Now on to the two speed Al.

Work on my WIP has slowed to a crawl over the past few days.
I’ve recently been knocking over around 500 – 1,000 words a day. Over the past week this has slowed to around 200 – 300 words. Two of my characters have been fencing with each other over romance and misunderstanding. To add to the complications the sister of one has been interfering, with best intentions of course!

But it has meant that I have been delicately feeling my way rather than powering ahead. So things are slow.

However, I suspect I may have solved a bottle neck with a bit of early hours insomnia. I think I have sorted the conflict and will be able to move ahead.

Now that said I am probably a little unfair with my characters as I’ve probably been distracting myself as well. Over the past few days I have worked through not one but two rough outlines for possible future writing projects!

One is a sci-fi/fantasy piece for adults that involves time travel and is set in both the ancient world and present day.
The second is a YA piece that is also sci-fi/fantasy that take place between our world and another.
Both have taken a lot of thought, particularly the YA book because I haven’t written with a YA audience in mind before.

I like both ideas a great deal. Oh for more time to write!

I mean that pretty seriously. I have a lot of writing planned out now!

As you may know my WIP is the second in a series that goes with my first book Veiled in Shadows. At the moment I have two more planned to go with those. Each is a stand alone story (I hate “to be continued” endings) but they all feature some of the same characters and explore the events of the 20th century from different perspectives.

So if I add these projects to my “To Be Written” list I have years of writing ahead of me!

Now in the spirit of being two speed, two photos with very different themes. First Lilli, who is already very much a member of our family. She has been with us for a week tomorrow and is a ball of energy.

Second, a rainforest stream in Mount Field National Park, Tasmania.I saw a wild platypus for only the second ever time in my whole life just downstream of these rocks. They are common, but very shy so hard to spot. Alas my camera was safely tucked in its bag so no photo (sorry Susan). A magical experience nonetheless.

So dear friends a question, does your imagination ever get in the way of the task you have at hand?

Target

I should never set myself targets in my writing. I posted a month ago about finishing my first draft of Veiled in Shadows in ‘a month or two’. A month further on and I had expected to have knocked over another 20,000 words or so.

Well I got more than half way toward that target. To be precise I have written 13,515 since that post. Now before you assume I have been beating myself up about a failure - I haven’t.

I write for the enjoyment of it.

The enjoyment of it.

Aren’t those four lovely words?

And I have been enjoying my writing. To be sure my inner sadist has been making some of my characters go through hell (don’t worry Valentina is still in happy mode) but I have been writing some bittersweet scenes over the past few days.

And it is fun!

You may know my first novel Veiled in Shadows was written from multiple perspectives. Shadows is a complete story on its own, but it is also part of a series. Veiled in Storms (my WIP) is also a complete story and while it is not exactly a sequel it is related to the first novel. Some of the minor characters in Shadows are major characters in Storms and vice versa. So Ronnie (that is Valentina’s Ronnie) for example is only mentioned by name in the first novel and is a significant player in the second. While his sister Penelope is a major character in the first and a bit player in the second.

So what have I been writing over the past day or two? I won’t say too much, but for those (few) of you who have read Shadows there is a reunion in the final scenes. So I am revisiting that reunion from another character’s point of view. Only for that character it does not come at the end of the story. It is both a sad and happy moment.

And fun to write.

Now a little news. I am hoping to post again on Friday, but from Saturday I will be away on leave for a week. So it is possible there will be no posts until I get back.

A photo from my archive

Rainbow Lorikeets

A Sadist and a Saint?

My WIP Veiled in Storms keeps rolling on.
I am writing what I have found the most difficult sections of the story at the moment.

In a plot development truly the brainchild of my Inner Sadist one of my main characters is arrested and sent to Siberia. To be more precise she is sentenced to 25 years in Stalin’s GULAG system. Some of you may know something of the GULAGs as reams have been written about them, most famously Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn’s books The Gulag Archipelago and One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, essentially they were a forced labour camps of the Soviet Union.

The majority of people sent to the GULAGs were there on trumped up charges. Some were never charged but were sentenced because of the “actions” of friends or relatives. Depending on when a person was arrested and where a person was sent in the system things varied from very hard to being worked and starved to death.

The problem for me as an author (even one who consults an inner sadist) is experiences in the system were quite simply terrible. Entry into the system typically involved interrogation by the NKVD. The NKVD routinely used torture, both psychological and physical. As if that wasn’t bad enough, women (my character is female) were frequently raped as part of the process of breaking them.

Once in the camps there is also plenty of options for my Inner Sadist to throw at my poor character. Work details, starvation, violence of all kinds from prisoners and guards. According to Solzhenitsyn the worst curse possible was to be not only a woman but an attractive woman in the camps. My poor character ticks both boxes.

So somehow I have to explore surviving the impossible with my character. I have had experience with writing difficult material, a component of my first book Veiled in Shadows is the Holocaust. I don’t pull too many punches in that book, but I think I managed to find a balance between telling a harrowing story and keeping it light enough to read. As a by the by I think my reviewers agree with me.

You can find reviews here:
(Kathleen Jones' Review - Reviews on Amazon - Reviews on Book Depository).

So the trick is to tell a story that is realistic (even dismally so) but to find a way to balance the hard with the not quite so bad.

I guess that is where my Inner Saint comes into play. To avoid giving too much of my plot away I’ll quote from Anne Applebaum’s book Gulag: A History. “Certainly many women survivors are convinced there were great advantages to being female within the camp system. Women were better at taking care of themselves…better able to subsist on low amounts of food... They formed powerful friendships and helped each other in ways that male prisoners did not.”

So my Inner Sadist might throw the intolerable at my poor character. At the same time my Inner Saint will throw some lifelines. How many she catches along the way… well you will have to wait and see.

Oh by the way - my Inner Saint wants me to tell any concerned readers of Valentina’s extracts that the character who goes to GULAG is not her. Do you believe me?

The Wonders of Commuting.

Well I am still going into the city by train everyday.

An hour on the train each way seemed pretty daunting at the start. But if you remember I got myself a Netbook and now I write on the train.
Now to be sure Melbourne’s train system is old and falling apart at the seams. Last week my 1 hour trip turned into 2½ hours on the train due to a signal fault. Normally I’d be steamed about such a delay but I just took it in my stride and thought “More writing time.”

All this time on the train is doing wonders for my WIP Veiled in Storms. As well as the sections I have posted about Valentina and Ronnie I have written tens of thousands of other words.

I am now past 80,000 words on my first draft which is about two thirds of my target. Most days I am adding 600 – 1,000 words. If I keep steaming at my current rate I will finish my first draft in another month or two!

Now a first draft is a long way from a finished novel, but this feels amazing. I’m working full time, getting out and about on the weekends and blogging (although I must say I don’t spend nearly enough time visiting other blogs) and the book is progressing!

The only hole in all of this is I have been largely neglecting promotion of my first novel Veiled in Shadows, and with me being my marketing campaign nothing is happening. Ah well you can’t have it all.

SO how about you. How is your writing going? How do you manage to fit it all in?


Now a photo from my archive: Wilson's Promontory after the 2009 bush fires

The Inner Sadist

I sometimes wonder at the twisted workings of my subconscious. Those of you who have followed my blog for a while will know I work for a charity running a couple of programs that provide direct support to the homeless of Melbourne. Seems like I could be quite a nice guy.

But as an author it seems I have another persona entirely. Putting it simply I am a bloodthirsty sadist.
At least when it comes to things that happen to my characters. Those of you who have read my book Veiled in Shadows will know that during its course some really nasty things happen to some really nice people. To be sure things don't come out too badly for some of my characters but the things that happen to some of them along the way... well you just wouldn't want them happening to your worst enemy. Shootings, beatings, loss of loved ones, grief, fear, breakdown and death are the sorts of things my poor characters have to contend with.

Now sometimes it seems like I am channelling their stories and they don't come from me at all. But maybe that is just a cop out so I can avoid looking at just what a sick twisted cookie I am?

I mean as a perfect example of how nasty I can be look at what is happening to poor Valentina in the extracts I have posted from my WIP. From the bits you have read you could have gathered: Valentina has been persecuted for falling in love with a man from another country; She has survived four years on the front-line of the worst war in history; she has been wounded and scarred physically and emotionally; she has lost her dearest friends; and she has come within an ace of suicide. To be sure there was a lifeline in the form of love from Natasha an innocent little girl.

But was Al content with leaving it there?

No he was not as since then Valentina has suffered a concussion through the actions of a woman she thought was a friend. Then she had an old dear friend come back into her life, but he is a secret police officer and arrests her.

Poor Valentina what did she ever do to deserve all this?

Are you questioning the sanity of Al yet?

Well if it isn't bad enough to show my nasty streak to my characters what about my treatment of you my poor readers?

I lure you here with nice piccies

of beautiful birdsof spectacular sceneryof gentle wild lifeand cascading waterfalls
But it is all a ploy, I tell you stories that leave a brave resourceful young woman fearing for her life and for the life of her loved one. And I make you wait a week to find out what comes next.

So if you find yourself in blog-land tonight be careful there could be lurking authors!

Cue wicked laughter.

In Oz the Pigs Don’t Fly. But the Foxes Do!

Deb and I went for another stroll yesterday. Our target was again the Yarra River.
This time closer to the Melbourne CBD in a reserve called ‘Yarra Bend Park’.
The Yarra is wider and lazy here.

We followed this trail which parallels the river. As we approached the bend we looked across the river. Notice something hanging in the trees on the other side?Really big fruit perhaps?

I recognised this fruit as soon as I saw it. As you get closer you can see more clearly. Can you see what they are now?Closer still.Look at this face isn’t he just sooo cute?What we had stumbled across was a camp (Aussie slang for a colony) of flying foxes.

To be exact these guys are grey-headed flying foxes (Pteropus poliocephalus).
Despite the name flying foxes are strictly vegetarian, they are known as ‘fruit bats’, they do eat fruit but their main diet is pollen and nectar.

They are a species of 'megabat', unlike the small insectivorous bats found in most of the world (we have a lot of tiny bats in Oz too) they don’t use sonar to find their way in the dark. Rather they rely entirely on very good eyesight.

We came upon this camp late in the afternoon, so most of them were like this guy with their little faces tucked neatly under their wing. But because it was getting lateish some early risers were beginning to stir,To stretch And scratch
Unfortunately we couldn’t wait around until they set off in the evening because we had to pick Lu up from her work.

But I will definitely be back another night to watch them set off. Watching thousands of these large animals stream overhead in the early evening is a real treat.


Now as I am a creature of habit, this weeks episode of Valentina’s story from my WIP.
This episode is very much a first draft. It needs a lot more work, a lot happens in this episode. I think it deserves more fleshing out.
So this week poor Valentina has more or less run from her meeting with Ronnie.
Still concussed from her tangle with Fred she gets one of the biggest surprises in her life.

Valentina Meshcova
Berlin 1948
'Major wake up, Major.'
I forced open my eyes, my head spun despite the fact I was lying down, and I was tired so tired.

I had refused all offers of help from Ronnie and Penelope. Contact with Ronnie, with her was impossible. I struggled back toward the orphanage unaided.
Being concussed and crossing the city alone was the hardest thing I ever tried.
So hard that I hadn't made it back.

The following morning I woke in a Soviet army hospital. Lying in a bed in the stark hospital ward, I wasn't entirely sure the events of the evening before were not a dream. But I couldn't stay where I was. Fear nearing panic gripped me, I couldn't lie around waiting until somebody noticed my behaviour was odd.
Despite the protests of the nursing staff I discharged myself.

I telephoned my driver who picked me up in the jeep and drove me home.
Natasha grabbed me when she saw me, holding me tight like she would never let go. She didn't let me out of her sight for the whole day, not until I packed her off to bed that evening. I had never let her down before, I swore to myself it would never happen again.

Now, two days later unable to keep my eyes open I was dozing on a daybed in my office, 'Major you have a visitor.' My aide shaking me.
'A visitor? Natasha?'
'No, an officer’, her eyes were wide with alarm, ‘an NKVD officer.'

I rolled over to sit up. Not entirely sure I was not going to throw up or pass out I struggled over to stand by my desk. Better to greet the NKVD on my feet, to at least look like I was trying to pay respect.

Focus on something, stay in the room. A noise, that would do, heels clicking on the polished floor as my aide left. It must only have been a minute or two but I was already in danger of dozing off when the click of another pair of feet woke me. 'Tina?'

I looked apprehensively at the figure in the blue and green NKVD uniform. For a moment I stared at the haggard face under the beak of the blue and red officer's cap.
'Stepan?'
I jumped at him pulling him tight, holding him like Natasha had held me the day before. My tears soaking the shoulder of his uniform coat.
I sobbed with relief and real joy. ‘Stepan, oh Stepan, I can’t believe it. I thought you were dead. Gone like all the others.’

It was a long while before I could pull back a bit and look at his face.
He looked so strange in his crisply pressed uniform, yet still the same wry smile. Still my friend.
‘Tina, it is you. I hardly recognised you.'

For a moment I was back in the student's club before the war in Moscow. A place and time of laughter and joy. I couldn't let him get away with being so clumsy. 'Why not? I never was a beauty like Svetlana, or Raisa, but surely I am not so ugly now?'
His haggard face broke into a broad grin, the warm smile of the old Stepan. 'I deserved that, you are still the old Tina.'
But I wasn't I felt an almost unbearable tide of grief, 'I'm not the old Tina. I've been through too much to be that sweet girl any longer.'
'Oh shit.'
It was him this time. He leant his head onto my neck and pulled me against him. He held me for the longest time.

Perhaps he was trying to comfort me, but I thought it was just as much about himself, maybe we both needed to be held.
When he finally let go it was not just me with tears on my face, 'It's so amazing, I can't say how good it is to see you.'
He stared into my face drinking me in. He looked closer, a frown. 'Your eyes, you're concussed.'
‘It’s nothing.’
‘I might not be a medico any longer, but I know a concussion when I see it.’
'I'm dizzy.'
'Let me help you.'
We sunk onto the daybed together.
'Why?'
'Why am I here?'
'Yes.'
'Aren't you happy to see me?'
I squeezed his shoulder. 'Of course I am.'
'Ah, this uniform.' His mouth worked but he didn't say anything more.

'The uniform, it doesn't matter, you're my friend.'
He was quiet for a moment. 'So how did you find me? Were you looking?'
'No I wasn't looking.' He groaned, 'It does no one any good to have an NKVD officer looking for them.'
'So how did you come to be here?'
He stiffened, 'A report came across my desk. An army major being found unconscious on the street is something that will be noted.'
I concentrated very hard on keeping my voice level. 'I see.'
'It’s not generally good to be noticed.'
'Is it going to be bad for me?'
He turned to meet my eyes. 'No, I don't think so. I will put in a report that you tripped and banged your head.' He looked at me expectantly, 'That is all isn't it? There’s nothing I need to help you cover up is there?'
His warm smile again, 'No? Then I am going to play the optimist. It’s good because if a report about Valentina Meshcova had not landed on my desk I would never have known you were in Berlin.'

Rambles, The Moon in June, (er March) and more WIP.

Last night was a full moon and the first ‘super moon’ in 18 years.

Alas I missed its rise, but I caught it a few minutes later.
I’ve never had much luck photographing the moon before, but I decided to have a go again anyway.

This is the result of my efforts. Not brilliant but my best effort so far, and given the limits of my current camera as good as I can expect.

Speaking of cameras I have actually put a new Canon 60D SLR on lay-by. Normally, a camera like that retails down this way for about AUD$2,400 (including a basic lens).
But the Aussie dollar has been recently equal or slightly better than the US$. This means they are currently retailing for $1,600. A saving I couldn’t miss.
I can’t afford to shell out $1,600 at the moment but lay-by means I can lock the good price in.
I’m going Canon by the way because I like them and my current lenses are compatible.

I’ll go from an 8 megapixel to a 18 megapixel in one jump. And a far more capable camera all round.

I can’t wait!

Today was something of an ordeal. Poor E our eldest woke us in the early hours with terrible tooth ache.
To start, it was just a matter of giving her pain killers and waiting til morning.

Come this morning it was finding a dentist who could/would do something on a Sunday. Deb and I had to take her into the city and then there was a lot of waiting around until the poor dear could be seen. Once she finally got in there was another hour wait.

Unfortunately, the tooth and surrounding area was so inflamed that they couldn’t do anything today. So she has been prescribed heavy duty pain killers, anti-inflammatories and anti-biotics. She has to go back about Wednesday.

The only silver lining was I took my computer and managed to get a little work done on my WIP.

Speaking of my WIP here is another extract. This, unlike the others isn’t quite a first draft. I have struggled with getting this scene something like the way I want it. Bear in mind it is still far from an edited final piece.

To place it in context, in Berlin by 1948 almost no rebuilding had happened. As it was to remain until 1990 Berlin was an occupied city. It was different to later though, the Berlin Wall that forms so much a part of 20th century history was still thirteen years in the future.

The NKVD was the Soviet security service/secret police. It was the forerunner to the KGB. Valentina’s fears are very real, having any more than casual contact with foreigners could literally be deadly to Russians during Stalin’s rule.

For those of you have been following Valentina here is the next episode of her adventures.
Last time she came off second best…



Valentina Meshcova
Berlin 1948
Penelope’s voice screaming as if from far away, ‘Fred enough!’
His weight came off me, I was sure he would kick me as he stood up. I needed to roll aside, had to move, but I simply couldn’t.
I was certain I was lying on the hard floor, but the room was spinning, tilting. I spiralled into blackness.

A cool hand on my cheek. Something to fix on, to hold, an anchor to slow the spinning. Penelope kneeling by my side.
‘Valentina?’
Her voice urgent, frightened, ‘You’ve hurt her! Fred help me!’

Blackness

Where am I? A terrible feeling of uncertainty.
I sit propped in a corner of an old couch. A long narrow room that looks like a cross between an office and a canteen. It's all old and scruffy, the furniture falling to pieces like so much of Berlin. Maybe it was the room behind the garage? But how had I got there?

Penelope, on her knees peering into my face. ‘Valentina? Can you hear me?’
Her expression one of such anxiety seemingly so concerned that I would almost have believed her lies again.
‘I can hear.’ I wanted to spit in her face, but all the fight had been driven out of me.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you who was following, or I wouldn’t have run.’
‘You are a dirty liar.’
No response, how does a person respond to raw hatred?

I couldn’t see properly, the room blurred, swam before my eyes. I focused on my anger, something constant. ‘Everything about you is a lie. You told me you were German, pretended to be my friend.’
She held my gaze, 'I am your friend, if you just trust me for a moment.'
‘You must let me go.’
‘Go then,’ frustration in her voice, ‘you’re not a prisoner.’
I lurched to my feet, a single step and I was toppling. My balance was hopeless.

Concussed, I must be concussed.

If Penelope hadn’t caught me I would have fallen. ‘Sit down, you’re in no fit state…’
‘I have to go.’ But in spite of myself I was lowered back into the couch.
‘There’s no rush. We'll get you a doctor.’
‘No! I can’t stay, can’t talk to you. I know what you are, you are death to me.’
Spinning, falling, black.

‘What happened?’
A voice in the dark, Ronnie it was Ronnie. Joy and grief.
I lie still. Penelope answering, ‘She followed me. I didn’t handle it well.’
‘But why this?’
‘She was wild, she had a gun. I was sure for a moment she was going to shoot me.’’
‘So Fred bashed her?’
‘He was protecting me, you shouldn't be hard on him.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I’ve sent him to find a doctor.’
‘That’s something at least.’
A warm hand on my cheek. ‘Val can you hear me?’
‘Val? Please God, Val can you hear?’
I didn’t want to open my eyes. What would I see? Love? Or the rage I saw when we met at the airport?

With an effort I came back into the room. Two faces: Penelope worried, almost frightened sick; and Ronnie, my Ronnie.

How stupid I had been. How had I not seen straight away? They were peas in a pod.
‘She's your sister.’
She gave me a warm friendly smile, as if she was still my friend. ‘You’re a duffer, too clever for your own good, but not clever enough to work it out.’
Tears from him, he stroked my wounded cheek, 'Oh Val, what have you been through?'
'I'll leave this to the two of you.' Penelope withdrew to the far end of the room. Incongruously she busied herself with the domestic task of filling a kettle and setting it on a kerosene burner .

Ronnie stayed by my side stroking my cheek then my hair.
I swallowed my own tears, I couldn't force more than a whisper, 'Why are you doing this to me?'
'I'm sorry, it wasn't meant to happen like this.'
'You must hate me so much.'
'Why would you say that?'
'The airport and these games you play. You will bring the NKVD to my door.'
'I'm not playing games. The NKVD is why I've had Pen watching you. I needed to make sure you were safe before I tried to contact you.'
'What for, why do you do this?'
He sat open mouthed, as if he was struggling to understand. ‘I love you.’
‘Then leave me alone. Let me be.’

Silence for a moment. He sighed with exasperation. 'I came back you know, to your little bombed out house in Murmansk.'
Choking on tears I forced out the words. 'I waited for you, the NKVD...'
'The NKVD came for you, I know. They picked me up when I came back. A man... he was your friend?'
'Stepan.'
'That's the one Stepan. He warned me off.'
'Stepan saved me, him and Svetlana's father... but he is dead now, he cannot help me now. When they come for me next time I cannot say “My boyfriend is an ally”. You are the enemy now.'
'I’m not your enemy.'
'That is not how it is. If you are not Russian, you are enemy.'
'Oh tosh. I love you, I lost you once, I'm not going to let you go again.'
'You have to forget me. You must stop with this foolishness. Do you want me dead?'
'Of course not, I love you.’
‘You love me.’
‘Yes damn it! I want to take you home to England. Like I said years ago, I want to marry you.'
'You...'
'I want to marry you.'

I had dreamt so many times of a moment like this. With him, with Ronnie. But, I felt none of the elation I had imagined.
I was tired and sick, empty, ‘I’m not the sweet girl that you enchanted with stories of Paris and London.’
Apprehension on his face ‘What do you mean?’
‘I was a child then, a romantic child. I have seen so much blood, so much death. I am a broken thing.’
He was quiet for a moment, a muscle twitched in his cheek, ‘Perhaps we are all a bit broken…’
‘I can’t run away with you Ronnie. I spend my time running an orphanage, what would those children do without me?’
‘They would be looked after.’
Penelope piped up, ‘Natasha could come with you. No one would expect you to abandon your little darling.’
I ignored her. ‘And what about me? What would I do? I cannot just sit, just be a hausfrau. I would go mad.’
‘You should do whatever you wish.’
‘No Ronnie, it was a dream a lovely dream, but it’s impossible. I am awake now.’

Rambling Sunday

I have three items of interest tonight.

First: I am guest posting tomorrow (Monday the 14th of March).
Rosie Connolly and Charity Bradford are kicking off their HONE YOUR SKILLS Blogfest on Wednesday and as part of their preparation they are hosting some published authors. I’ll be on both blogs on Monday SOOO check it out!

Second: Deb and I have had a mini-vacation.
This weekend is a long weekend in Victoria. We have our Labour Day holiday tomorrow.
Deb and I stayed overnight in Gippsland (eastern Victoria) last night. We came back this evening to avoid the worst of the traffic tomorrow.
I’ve taken some nice shots of various spots between here and Sale. I don’t have enough time or energy tonight so I’ll just give you a taste.Two piccies of the old jetty at Port Welshpool.Third: I’ve taken to giving a taste of my work on my WIP on Sundays so here is another section.
Poor Valentina got quite a surprise following Penelope last week. Here is what happened next.
Once again this is a first draft that might never find its way into the book.
A warning for those of you of delicate sensibilities, it does feature a little bad language.


Valentina Meshcova
Berlin 1948
The workshop was very dark, the only light seeping in was through cracks around the door frame. And that was the weak watery light of a grey Berlin afternoon.
I struggled between being a little girl frightened of the dark and a soldier ready for a fight.
I fumbled in my bag as my hand closed around the gun butt I was more like a soldier again. I slid it out and held it by my side. Where to stand? By the inner door, they'd come through the inner door. If they opened the outer one I might escape.
Not much chance of escape now, but I was a Soviet and I would take as many with me as I could.

I stood beside the door and waited. It was only a moment, the room blazed as someone turned on the lights. The click of a latch, another click as I cocked my gun. Confidently, almost casually Penelope stepped into the workshop, my gun came up pointing at her face.

The confidence fled, she hadn’t expected the gun. Her hands came up defensively. Slender white fingers, no protection against a bullet, or were they?
Her look of pure terror made me hesitate. I knew fear, it was not something I ever wanted to inflict. ‘Valentina, please…’

My anger surged, hate boiled, how dare she lie to me, betray me, risk everything.
I stepped close bringing the gun to within a centimetre of her eye. ‘Valentina, don’t’
‘You filthy spy, I’ll blow your head off.’
‘Put the gun down!’
A man standing in the doorway, a huge gun pointing right at my head. Penelope hissed urgently, ‘Fred don’t shoot!’
English! She spoke to him in English! Everything I had dreaded proven in that instant.
He was almost apologetic to her, ‘Sorry Miss, my call,’ he bellowed at me, ‘Put it down!’

My mind raced unbelievably fast. At this moment I hated her more than anything or anyone.
I could finish her lies and end my pain at the same time.
End the pain.
End the pain of loosing everyone and everything that mattered. Family, friends, future all gone.
End me.
It would be so easy. Revenge and death in a heartbeat.

It was Natasha who saved me again. A vision popped into my head: Natasha waiting for me to come back.
Waiting.
Alone again.
Waiting.

I couldn’t do that to her.

Ever so slowly I moved the gun’s barrel until it was pointing at the ceiling. Penelope sighed and stepped back.
If I wasn’t going to shoot her, I would go carefully, minimise any reason he had for shooting me. I eased the gun’s hammer down, then I carefully changed my grip so it dangled between my forefinger and thumb. Gradually I bent lowering the gun toward the floor.

I was about half way down when he surged forward. He hit me hard with his shoulder driving me sideways. My hands flew out instinctively to save my face from hitting the cobble floor, the gun skittered away.
There was no stopping my fall, no saving my face. One of his hands found the back of my head, his weight driving me down. My mind still racing, I thought stupidly that at least it was my scarred cheek that would hit the floor, I wouldn’t end up any uglier than I already was.

His weight drove my head hard into the cobbles, light and pain flashed through my brain. Matched by the pain of his knee driving into my kidneys, a sickening tearing feeling forcing all the air out of me.
As I lay on the floor I was barely aware of his weight trying to push my face into the floor and of his gun barrel grinding into the back of my neck. ‘You fucking bitch! You won’t pull a gun on one of mine so quickly again!’