Les Gillespie's Gold excerpt from Chapter 38

I put chapter thirty eight of my Les Gillespies Gold manuscript to our writing group for critique today. At this point we are about half way into the story and much is happening. 

 I loved writing the chapter and although long has added quite a bit of drama and intrigue to the tale. I particularly liked tapping out this exchange by three generations of Gillespie girls. 

I hope you enjoy it too.

Laura and Tilly nattered while they drove to the farm, in the back Emily put her iPod down. ‘Mum, you said Pop wanted to go to Wilson’s, right?’

‘That’s what he said. Why?’

‘Can we go skinny dipping like you and Samantha did?

Laura, her face full of question, turned to her daughter with palms upturned. Tilly said nothing.

Emily kept up.’ And what is skinny dipping anyway?’

Tilly felt her face flush, Laura’s hands paddled the air in slow circles. ‘Yes, Tilly, come on,’ She made exclamation marks with her fingers. ‘just what is skinny dipping?’

‘It’s a saying we use for having a swim, a swim in a water hole.’ Tilly turned to her mother. Laura watched as a rolled up tongue breached her daughter’s lips and slipped back as quick as it appeared. ‘And no, Em. Not today, we didn't bring any bathers.’

‘Robert says you don’t wear bathers, when you’re skinny dipping.’

Laura was still facing Tilly, she shrugged and mouthed the words ‘Who is Robert?’

‘Tell Granny about Robert, Em.’ Embarrassing moment avoided, she hoped.

‘He has to sit in the naughty corner at Fiona’s.’

‘And why does he do that?’ Laura asked

‘Because he pulls the girls hair and calls us names.’ Emily picked up her tablet. ‘Can you show me the waterhole?’

‘Maybe on a nice warm day when we have our bathers, you me and Jeff can all go swimming.’ Tilly said and put her hand up to high five her mother.

‘Not so fast, Tilly Gillespie.’ Laura said. ‘Samantha’s from the mining company, you’ve had dinner with her and now Emily says you have been out to Wilson's. When were you going to tell Dad?’

A little bit of Les Gillespie's gold

I'm looking at the finish line for my manuscript, so I thought I would share the opening of a chapter about three quarters the way through. Tell me what you think.

Darryl and Angela stared at the incident board.

‘Uniform tomorrow, Boss?’

‘Ah...’ 
Angela continued to post information from the Hammond Road murders on the board, Cassidy was lost in thought. He kept staring into the face of Joe’s attacker. ‘Sorry?’ he said.

‘What should I wear tomorrow? Uniform, or plain clothes.’

‘Plain clothes, let’s do our best to emulate our city cousins. Otherwise, they’ll brush us off as country hicks.’

‘Works for me, Sir.’ She thought about the suit she had bought at the beginning of summer and hadn’t worn yet. ‘Tomorrow, clothes will maketh the woman.’ She said.

‘Yeah... Okay.’ Darryl was deep within his mind again. He walked to the window and searched the streetscape, hoping for inspiration.

‘Boss,’ he didn’t hear her, ‘Boss?’

Cassidy didn’t look back. ‘You’re the computer whiz, overlay the photo of those tyre tracks,’ he tapped the board, ‘and the ones near the gate where Jeff found the ute. Can you do that?’ 

A few lines from Chapter 37 of Les Gillespie's Gold

Jeff rummaged behind the seat for a couple of minutes. He folded the back forward to gain better access. The bolt cutters lay below a steel box with a lock on it. The padlock was under the hasp and Jeff lifted the lid, a 9mm self-loading pistol lay encased in foam rubber. It was Army issue. He picked up the cutters and walked over to Joe. ‘Anything you want to tell me about the box under the seat?’

‘Nope.’

‘It’s not locked.’

‘And you looked?’

‘The policeman in me,’ Jeff said,’ I’m curious.’

‘That’s what got the cat killed.’ Joe said. He did not look at Jeff and worked the cutters on the chain.

‘Got a licence for it?’

Christmas Eve in Orroroo (first draft)

For Annie

I’m in love with a princess

In a faraway land

I imagine her home

And the places she’ll see

And hope that she smiles

If she’s thinking of me

This month it is Christmas

And the trees in her park

Are covered in snow

While here in the outback

A summer Christmas we know

And we have a tree in the corner

Trimmed with tinsel too

Carols come from all corners tonight

Children waiting for Santa

Will keep their eyes closed tight

I close my eyes and see in my mind

Stockings hang from a mantel

Above a fire in the grate

And for Santa too, they wait

Her cousins out here in the bush

Take their places in the Christmas parade

There’s clowns with coloured barrows to push

A tradition we keep where memories are made

Floats decorated in green red and blue

And Annie I hope it’s a sight

My words bring to you

Outside the shops they still pipe

Those old Christmas songs

And the floats might be corny

But the spirits still here

A street full of faces spreading good cheer

And right down the back

At the end of the parade

In a little green car

Santa arrives, always the star.

Old eyes become misty

When we remember the days

When we were once young

In this street where we played

Now cousin Geoff drives the car

And he does his best

Now Uncle Murray has gone to his rest.

So now my princess from over the sea

I hope you have a Christmas as merry can be

For I’m in love with you, Princess

In your faraway land

I imagine you home

And the places you see

And hope that you smile

When you’re thinking of me

Finding Gold in Characters

This is my third year of  writing Les Gillespie's Gold and while it has become a grind at times, there are moments when words cascade onto the page. Often the real world becomes a different place and I find myself immersed in the character's story, character either makes the story believable or destroys it by the end of the first chapter. Because the manuscript is ninety percent done and I am tying the plot lines together, I thought I would take time to revisit the characters from Kundela.
    Readers of my first novel will be familiar with the Gillespie family and in the second book I have introduced a few new faces. Some likeable and others are easy to detest.

Finding Gold in Characters:

For anyone ready to start writing, or established writers interested in how others do it, I thought I would share my method for finding the things that make my characters tick. This is not the best or worst way to go about a character profile, it is my way. And I have robbed ideas form other authors to get to this point.

Knowing how your sinners differentiate from the saints is key to making the story work, but how do we get to know those differences. This my way of putting flesh on the bones of black and white words that make up the character profile.
    Writing villains is always fun and developing their character can open the writer to hours of distraction as we try to find ways to justify their place in the novel or short story. So be warned, my method can cause you to procrastinate while you divert your attention to research and discovery that often make dedicated writing hours disappear.

Character is deeper than just a name in a novel. Once a name is decided they begin to develop shape and personality, names become people. As I flesh out their history, I give names to siblings, pets and parents. I attach relationships and before long I begin to know them as well as I would one of my friends. I may even know them better, because I have created dirty little secrets. I have pushed them into liaisons, and created their fears and fantasies.
    I start with a character chart as provided by Merlene Fawdry in her Longitudinal Writing Workshop. My chart is an expanded version and it serves me well. When completed I have a rough idea of what they look like and what motivates them. From the chart I know more than their eye colour and how they dress, but character has a major part to play I need to know more. I need to know why I needed to write them into the story. What I need is an understanding of their background, what happened to make them more than just a name in a book.

    In Les Gillespie's Gold, a fifty year old grudge lies behind the main plot-line, but how did that grudge come about and who were the players? How do they influence the characters in the novel? To find my way through this maze I write stories that will have no place in the novel, but I need them to help me understand how my characters interact. Copies of these stories can be found on this blog.

Researching personality takes time as I found with a character in Les Gillespie's Gold. Spoggy Sparrow has no history, to understand this type of character and personality, I spent days on research to learn it is not easy to disappear or create a new identity. However I found myself lost to the quest and discovered devices someone like Spoggy could use to hide from society. Research like this is a great investment, a knowledge bank to call on for later novels or short stories.
    By the end of these exercises, I find my characters justifying their part in the story to me. Arguing why they deserve more action, more profile and at times trying to push the leading man or lady off the page. When I first thought about a career as a writer, I found it hard to properly show hardship, joy and humanity in my characters. Using these techniques now I find the story lets me to write action and point of view from an enlightened position. Writing character has become easier for me because of Merlene's chart and my character story. Today if I prepare a chat and write a history, I have a sharp idea of how each character drives their part in the novel.
    I was pleased when, two years ago, I attended a writing workshop by noted children's writer, Kirsty Murray. Kirsty began one of the sessions with the statement that, Character drives Plot and Plot drives Character. It took me a while to understand what she was saying, but by the end of the session I knew what she meant and the way I was going about finding a depth to my characters was not as weird as I first thought.

    All authors have their own methods and this one works for me.

Good links: Kirsty Murray:                                 http://kirstymurray.com/

                    Merlene Fawdry:                              http://merlenefawdry.blogspot.com.au/

                    Writers Victoria:                               https://writersvictoria.org.au/

                    Fellowship of Australian Writers:    http://writers.asn.au/

Thanks for dropping by.
Terry

Pop

He was grey, he was old

And through the lines on his face

Pop's story was told

Spotted with age and his hands bony thin

All of life’s story was written on him

And in a mind etched with memories still sharp

He has no room for tears in his eyes

While love beats his heart

In the morning on his porch  you'll see him
He sits all alone

With tea in a cup he’ll fondle his phone

It rings and he answers time and again

A smile writes a crease across his lips
And, it's hello old friend

He shuffles, he snuffles and sometimes he creaks

No time to grumble about his pain that he'll speak

It's time to catch up with old friends
And that's all that he seeks

And in the morning, you’ll see him
After a quarter to ten

Answering the phone, yep, he's out there again

He’ll be sippin' his tea and phoning a friend

He’s laughing and snorting his morning away

Old men jousting with another story to tell
And I admire the way

Pop and his friends are denying Death
And their passport to hell

Another day has gone by and little was done

And now the sink overflows with dishes to do

It might be tomorrow before he gets 'round to them too

Another day filled with laughing and lying and all of it fun
He looks back on his life with some sadness and sun

Is he lonely you ask and in a while he'll answer
He thinks that he might
Then he gets into bed, kisses her photo

And turns out the light

An Aircraft Mechanic's War Diary entry December 1943

LAC,  Lionel Probert's war diary entry, 15th December 1943

Arrived at Milne Bay, where we are anchored for about 12 hours. A pretty place. Hard to realize that it was once the scene of bitter fighting. Good few ships in the harbour, one of the largest harbours in the world.

Only a short note, but filled with information. I can't imagine the excitement he would have felt, was he apprehensive or were he and his mates on one big adventure. I believe these blokes were ld to believe they were heading for adventure only to discover it had unimaginable horrors. 

Rest in Peace, Dad your words still live in me.