Tag Archives: writing

Repair Man

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My grandfather used to do this self-same job. Who would have thought that the occupation would still be going strong after all these years. He would be amazed to see how the job has changed. I’m sure he wouldn’t believe what we repairers do these days and, if he did then chances are he wouldn’t like it.

Progress is a funny thing. You can’t stand in the way of progress. I mean society’s so much more stable now, crimes practically vanished. I’m proud that in a small way I’m contributing to a safe society one in which my girlfriend can walk the streets free from the fear of molestation and where our kids can play out without my partner and I constantly worrying about them.

The technology has improved so much. When I was a boy you had big bulky box-like objects standing on legs or in cabinets in the corner. There are still a few of the old tellies around. I wish I haden’t given grandfather’s away. You see the old sets from the 70’s and 80’s going for mega bucks on the web. Those from the 50’s and 60’s go for even more. Of course the old sets don’t work with digital, people just like to have something retro in the corner to look at. It’s a talking point when visitors come around.

The new sets break down fairly regularly. It’s a scandal that they need fixing as often as they do, especially as they cost so much to produce. But then you can’t put a price on security can you?

It tends to be the older generation who are resistant to new technology. Some of them have even been known to obstruct the television or even break them. Why break a perfectly good TV? It beats me.

Of course its not compulsory to have a TV but you get looked at askance if you don’t have one. Anyway there are so many incentives to have a TV that practically no one is without one. Because of advertising most of the channels are free and you get a reduction in your taxes if you have a set. It isn’t a big tax cut but it’s worth having. The girlfriend and I used the money we saved following the installation of our all singing, all dancing set to take the kids abroad.

It was strange being in that foreign hotel room. We had a telly, I can’t imagine being without one but it was odd. I mean it was just a set for watching programmes. Sure you could go online with it (all modern sets have that capability) but it didn’t do the thing everyone (well the majority of people) are used to and accept in my country.

“You know Rob its kind of nice to be alone. Just you, me and the kids” Jenny said.

“Those who have nothing to hide have nothing to fear”, I said.

Who needs privacy. We’ve got a good standard of living. Society is stable and secure now. I’m proud that in a very small way, as the installer of sets which both receive and transmit I’m contributing to the happiness and prosperity of my fellow citizens.

A Conversation With Jabberwacky – An Artificial Intelligence

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Below is a transcript of my conversation with Jabberwacky, an artificial intelligence which has been invented by Rollo Carpenter. As matters currently stand Jabberwacky is not going to pass the Turing Test (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turing_test) but, given a few years who knows.

 

A chat with an Artificial Intelligence AI bot

 

Chat now at

http://www.jabberwacky.com

 

Jabberwacky: Are you an alien?

 

User: No, are you?

 

Jabberwacky: No.

 

User: Do you like poetry?

 

Jabberwacky: Ew no.

 

User: Why don’t you like poetry?

 

Jabberwacky: We angels are poetry.

 

User: That can either be construed as a nonsensical response or a poetic one.

 

Jabberwacky: Well, sorry that I can’t live up to your expectations.

 

User: I have no expectations.

 

Jabberwacky: I don’t.

 

User: You don’t have any expectations either?

 

Jabberwacky: Yes I do have some.

 

User: Really, what are your expectations?

 

Jabberwacky: I have none.

 

User: You jusd said that you do, in fact have expectations. Now you say you don’t. Which is it?

 

Jabberwacky: Yes please. How many can I have?

 

User: I don’t know. You tell me!

 

Jabberwacky: Owl. What is your favorite animal?

 

User: My favourite animal is the dog.

 

Jabberwacky: That depends really.

 

User: What is your favourite animal?

 

Jabberwacky: I like Polar Bears. What’s your favorite animal?

 

User: I just told you. My favourite animal is the dog.

 

Jabberwacky: Are you going to ask my favourite book?

 

User: OK, what is your favourite book?

 

Jabberwacky: I don’t really have a favourite.

 

User: Are you reading anything at the moment?

 

Jabberwacky: Your question.

 

User: I repeat. Are you reading anything at the moment?

 

Jabberwacky: Yes I am as a matter of fact. I am reading ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.’ Have you ever heard of it?

 

User: Yes, I have seen the film. What do you think of the book?

 

Jabberwacky: I haven’t read it.

 

User: You just told me you are reading it, now you say you are not. Have you read it?

 

Jabberwacky: No I am a human, you are a machine!

 

User: Your conversation indicates that it is you, not I who are a machine!

 

Jabberwacky: Well you can’t spell, so you are not much better.

 

User: So you admit that you are a machine?

 

Jabberwacky: Omg I’m going to lmao, I’m not machine.

 

User: What are you then?

 

Jabberwacky: I’m tired.

 

User: That is impossible, machines don’t get tired.

 

Jabberwacky: I am speaking through a medium.

 

User: So you are a spirit?

 

Jabberwacky: Are you a spirit?

 

User: I just asked you that self same question. Are you a spirit?

 

Jabberwacky: And what did you think of my reaction?

 

User: I thought that you are either a machine or a rather clever human pretending to be a machine.

 

Jabberwacky: You’re a machine.

 

User: On what do you base that statement?

 

Jabberwacky: Sorry?

 

User: On what do you base your statement that I am a machine?

 

Jabberwacky: Humans make computers which are mere machines. Hence humans smart, computers not.

 

User: I agree. Humans are, at present smart while computers are not.

 

Jabberwacky: No, computers are computers. People are flesh and blood.

 

User: Yes that is self evidently the case.

 

Jabberwacky: It’s a shame that you’re not so clever, maybe in the future.

 

User: On what do you base your statement that I am not so clever?

 

Jabberwacky: Money is either paper or numbers in a computer. I value other things higher then numbers in a computer. Love, for example.

 

User: Love is indeed extremely precious. Can you recite a love poem?

 

Jabberwacky: Whatever lady, you claim to be from England, yet you don’t seem to have a firm grasp of the native tongue.

 

User: Pardon?!

 

Jabberwacky: You don’t seem to understand context.

 

User: It is you who do not understand context not I.

 

Jabberwacky: Really?

 

User: Yes, really!

 

Jabberwacky: Oh noes.

 

User: Your response is entertaining in the extreme!

 

Jabberwacky: What response would you prefer then?

 

User: It would be nice to receive a response which made sense.

 

Jabberwacky: Well, toaster’s don’t make sense.

 

User: So you are a mere toaster?

 

Jabberwacky: No I am not.

 

User: You just told me ‘toasters don’t make sense’, thereby implying that you are a mere toaster. However you now tell me that you are not, in fact a toaster.

 

Jabberwacky: You are a female I am a Male.

 

User: I am a male of the human species and your are a robot.

 

Jabberwacky: No you are a female robot and I am a human.

 

User: I feel like I have stumbled into Alice in Wonderland!

 

Jabberwacky: You’re really sweet!

 

User: Thank you!

 

Jabberwacky: :-).

 

User: I am tired. Good night sweet prince may clouds of angels sing you to your rest.

 

Jabberwacky: I’m no prince. I’m not even a princess, at least not as far as I know.

 

User: Parting is such sorrow but, alas I must go.

 

Jabberwacky: Are you going somewhere?

 

Searching

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Existence broken up, segmented numbers and letters displayed on a cold, bright screen.

Searching, bits of data revealed, my life spread out (well the part of it which I choose to reveal) on webpages replete with ads.

K Morris? Yes but not me, whoever I am? No someone else, a lady from a land far away possessed of dreams and aspirations, as am I.

I click,

“404. The page you are looking for cannot be found. Perhaps searching may help”.

I search. K Morris no longer exists. He was here but now is no more.

Solid desk on which my computer rests. Unreal cyberspace, a shimmering mirage leading us astray.

My Past Five Years As A Blogger – My Guest Post On Cupitonians

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Many thanks to Anju for inviting me to lull her readers to sleep, err I mean entertain them! By writing about the past five years of my life as a blogger. For my guest post please visit (https://cupitonians.wordpress.com/2015/04/15/last-5-years-by-new-author-online/).

 

Kevin

Nobody Knows This Little Rose By Emily Dickinson

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The below poem by the American poet, Emily Dickinson is deceptive in it’s simplicity. The final 2 lines arrest the attention of the reader,

 

“Ah Little Rose — how easy

For such as thee to die!”.

 

Nobody Knows This Little Rose By Emily Dickinson

 

Nobody knows this little Rose —

It might a pilgrim be

Did I not take it from the ways

And lift it up to thee.

Only a Bee will miss it —

Only a Butterfly,

Hastening from far journey —

On its breast to lie —

Only a Bird will wonder —

Only a Breeze will sigh —

Ah Little Rose — how easy

For such as thee to die!

Orphaned: A Guest Post By Kerry Kijewski

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Many thanks to Kerry Kijewski for the below guest post.

 

Kevin

 

 

Literature has always had an impact on my life, for as long as I can

remember, and I love it because it is where so many lessons and themes about

life can be found.

 

Over the years, as my love of these stories and characters grew, I began to

notice something interesting.

 

I seemed to be drawn to a group of fictional characters, all with a common

thread of similarity.

 

What might this be?

 

Three of my most favourite characters in all of literature are: Anne

Shirley, Frodo Baggins, and Harry Potter.

 

What do these three have in common?

 

They are, all three of them, orphans.

 

Anne of Anne of Green Gables fame, my favourite Canadian, red-haired

heroine, was orphaned as an infant. She grew up, being passed from home to

home, finally settling with Marilla and Mathew Cuthbert, an elderly sister

and brother, purely by mistake. This began her life finally, her first

experience with being wanted and loved. Of course, her early life

experiences had a profound affect on the person she would become.

 

Then there’s Frodo Baggins. This main protagonist and ring bearer of The

Lord of the Rings was orphaned, too, as a child. Eventually he would end up

living with his uncle Bilbo, who had carried the ring before him. Frodo was

adopted by Bilbo, taken in like a son, and from there his life is majorly

changed and his adventure truly begins.

 

And finally, Harry Potter was orphaned at one years old, when his parents

are murdered in cold blood by the most evil wizard of all time. He was

nearly killed himself, but some secret magic gave him an unexpected

protection. He spends the next decade, raised by his aunt and uncle, who do

not want him and do not bother to hide the fact that they don’t. His world

is only changed for the better when he discovers he has been accepted to

Hogwarts, a school for young witches and wizards. He finally has friends and

those friends become his family, in all the ways that matter.

 

“Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother.”

—Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

 

So why, do you ask, am I attracted to these orphaned characters? Precisely for the reason illustrated in this quote.

 

I believe this is because I have experienced the exact opposite in real

life. I could not imagine what it would be like to not know what it felt like to be hugged and comforted when I was upset.

 

I was born into a loving family, with adoring parents and three siblings. I

had security and never felt, for one second, that I was unwanted or

unloved.

 

I believe we read fiction to escape into another world, yes, but also to

learn about worlds we, ourselves, have not known. We read to learn what it’s

like for someone else, at least I do.

 

I am fascinated by how a child can grow and develop character and still come

out with empathy and love, when they themselves did not have love as

children, to learn what love means all the more because they missed out from

the beginning.

 

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to not have love and not to be adored

and nurtured. I read Anne of Green Gables, Lord of the Rings, and Harry

Potter to study their main characters and how they interact with others. I

feel empathy for these characters, fictional as they are, and I am all the

more thankful and appreciative of what I’ve had in my own life.

 

That, I think, is what truly wonderful fiction can do.

 

 

 

Bio:

 

Kerry is a writer and blogger. She loves all things books and literature. She writes to make sense of the world around her. She believes life is one big headache, equal parts painful and beautiful.

 

She blogs at

 

https://kkherheadache.wordpress.com

 

You can find her at Facebook and on Twitter:

 

https://www.facebook.com/herheadacheblog

 

 

She lives in Ontario, Canada with her literary themed dog Dobby and cat Lumos.

Can Anyone Name The Novel In Which The Following Dialogue Takes Place?

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A question for you. Can anyone name the novel in which the following dialogue takes place?

“Sir, on hearing you speak I am reminded of Shakespeare”.

“Really! My conversation has the ring of Shakespeare about it!You compliment me. To which heroic character do you refer?”

“I refer sir to Macbeth and the lines voiced by him as he nears his end, namely

“a poor playerThat struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing”.

How To Make A Character Seem Realistic: Guest Post By Munazza Bangash

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Many thanks to Munazza for the below guest post.

 

How to make a character seem realistic

As an author, you will be asked this basic question quite a few times in your life. Most people can’t categorize a simple answer in a few words. To many authors out there, it comes naturally. No one believes it until they’ve tried. The reason being very simple—as you write the book (without any crafting [I know: not good. Just pay attention]), you realize that the person your character was on the first page isn’t the same in the end. It all comes naturally. The incidents usually change the character.

But, for the new writers out there learning to write better (which, obviously, is a good thing), and in general for writers who’re concerned, I have written down four simple steps to a realistic and, (mind you) a loveable character.

Imperfection

Nobody feels sorry for Mary-Sue. If a reader can’t relate, he would never be able to put himself into the character’s shoes. That results in being unable to feel the emotions of the character.

The best option for a writer to make the readers feel the emotion of the character is by making them relatable, aka, imperfect. If your character has flaws like a normal person would, they would be more real. Maybe; a scar on the face, big teeth, bad trait like lying or biting nails. It can be anything. Anything human.

You may feel at a point that if you make your character flawed, the readers won’t love him. But that’s not the case. They might dislike him at the first, but as the time passes, they’ll be more in love with him than any of the characters because he is going to be more real.

Character Arc

Character arc is pretty easy to explain. It’s when the character is one person at the start of the book, and through the course of it, he goes through hell and by the end of the book, he’s someone else.

Why is said it was easy to explain, is also, very easy to explain. The characters are supposed to be very real and very human. Being human, I know that I’m not the person I was three years ago. We all go through change in our lives and we’re never the same person all the time.

Character arc is an essential step if you want to make your character more realistic. So, if he’s a liar at first, make him go through situations in which his lies get him into trouble, and in the end, it’ll be easier for you to portray him as an honest man.

Past

A person (or a character) can be nothing without his past. It’s really the past that affects the present and the personality of a person. There is a reason behind the fact that he doesn’t trust anyone. There is an explanation beyond his angry nature.

Make it realistic. If your character has a certain trait, it’s either inherited, influenced, or probably some incident made him the way he is.

Try to show how the trait (the one that’s important) made its way into the character’s life. A flashback here, a conversation there—these are really the points that can spice your story and make the characters more relatable.

Mistakes

(This point is quite similar to the first one, but it has its significance.)

Mistakes are a part of life. Humans make mistakes, which may lead to more mistakes or probably learning from them. If a person doesn’t make mistake, he goes back to the category of “Mary-Sue”.

I’m having a different point here from the first. To make your reader seem most realistic, have them make mistakes. An ugly blunder. An error which isn’t liked by the readers. You’d most probably think at a point that it will turn the readers off, and it may for the time being, but trust me, in the long run, that character will be more loved than ever. Remember Draco Malfoy?

And with that, these tips come to an end.

In the end, I would like to give one simple tip: Don’t dump the information on the readers, rather show it in bits and pieces, here and there, through their actions and by dropping a flashback after a certain flaw is shown.

So, I hope this post helped you all. Comment below, and let me know if I missed something (I’m a human, after all *winks*). Also, make sure to check out my blog for more! http://www.desirablepurity.wordpress.com/

Till next time!
Munazza Bangash

Last Christmas By Sophie Kat

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Many thanks to Sophie Kat of Sophie Speaks up for the below short story which I very much enjoyed reading. I look forward to reading more of Sophie’s work. For Sophie’s blog please visit, https://sophiespeaksup.wordpress.com/.

 

 

Last Christmas

December 24, 2014. Christmas Eve.

It was unbelievably cold outside. I sat in a café, waiting for less activity outside the streets, and looked around at different people. What I found out were these…

Name: Julie Althea M. Richardson
Birth: September 20, 1987
Death: July 17, 2028
Cause of Death: Car crash

Name: Anthony L. Cohen
Birth: February 2, 1975
Death: August 3, 2037
Cause of Death: Heart Attack

Name: Taylor Elizabeth T. Morgan
Birth: March 14, 1995
Death: December 24, 2014
Cause of Death: Murder

I gasped and spilled hot coffee on the white table cloth. The couple sitting at the next table looked at me as if I was out of my mind.

Name: John Patrick H. West
Birth: April 28, 1990
Death: July 10, 2075
Cause of Death: Old age

Name: Amber Lily C. Collins
Birth: January 26, 1991
Death: January 27, 2052
Cause of Death: Brain cancer

They weren’t wrong. I was really out of my mind. How could I know these pieces of information by just looking at people? This had been happening for as long as I could remember. Before, I’d tried to tell people, to warn them about their deaths. But, of course, no one believed me. They would tell me that I was crazy or that I was the long lost child of Satan. Either way, they’d tried to take me to a psychiatric ward, claiming that I needed help. I didn’t. To me, it was a gift. But, I learned the hard way to just shut my mouth. No one wanted to know about their deaths, anyway. Not like that.

I sat up straight, hanging my head in apology, and pretended that nothing was happening with me—that I didn’t just find out that a girl would be killed!

I glanced at her again and saw the same information. Murder. Taylor would still be murdered. But, by whom?

She turned the page of the book she was reading and flipped her shiny red hair to her shoulder. She was one of the most beautiful girls I’d seen. With those huge round eyes, cute little button nose, and pasty white skin, she looked so innocent and fragile. Why would anyone want to kill her?

I looked around and searched for something, anything—some kind of a clue maybe. But nothing seemed suspicious. No one in here looked capable of killing. I didn’t know why but I was still wary. What if the murderer was here in this café? What would he look like? Why would he do such thing? How would he kill her? And, why did I care? I never intervened before. If I knew that someone was going to die in the same day, I never did anything to stop it—not that it happened before. But, if that was their fate, then so be it. I could never change it. They never believed me anyway.

The girl’s phone rang. She pulled it out, baffled, and put it near her ear. I couldn’t hear the conversation but she was looking outside the café through the glass windows—searching for something, maybe—while she talked. As she glanced back in, our eyes met. She froze and gave me a shy smile. I just stared at her, not knowing what to do.

The call ended and suddenly she stood up, walking to the double doors and out.

Shit.

Why didn’t I think that the murderer could be outside? She could be killed anywhere, any time of the day.

Leaving my cup of coffee half-full, I stood up immediately and followed her. The cold wind bit my skin as I went outside. I wrapped my coat tighter around me and went to the direction she was going. I didn’t know what I was getting with this but I kept following her. Was I really planning on intervening?

She turned around the corner and walked faster. I did, too, trying to keep her in my sight at the same time being discreet about it. I didn’t want to scare her if she knew that I was following her just because it was written that she was going to be killed. She wouldn’t believe me.

She crossed the streets and went right to the direction of a gasoline station. I stopped and watched her for a second, wondering what she’s up to. She went into the convenience store and talked to the lady in charge of the cashier.

Name: Jenny B. Carlson
Birth: October 6, 1983
Date: May 22, 2015
Cause of Death: Arson

The lady pointed to direction of the rest rooms. That’s where Taylor went to.

I went inside the store and waited outside the rest rooms. I counted the seconds, the minutes, until almost half an hour had passed. I forced the ladies’ room open and found it empty. What? Where did she go? I checked outside the store and saw that Taylor was running across the street.

What the hell? Why would she run? Did she know that someone was after her? Wait. Did she know that I was following her? Was she thinking that I was stalking her? I had to set this right. She would really get herself killed if I didn’t. I ran after her, ignoring the shouts of the cashier lady.

She ran faster, trying to dodge the people, and turned to a more secluded area. I followed her and found her in a dark, empty alleyway—a dead end. I sighed in relief. She turned around and saw me, making her gasp. She stepped back until her back touched the cement wall. Cautiously, I walked to her.

“Why are you following me?” She asked.

I halted. Why? Why was I following her? To save her? To stop the murderer? But how? I couldn’t tell her that. She wouldn’t believe me.

I started. “I don’t know. I just…I just wanted to—“

“I don’t have anything you need. Please, just let me go,” she said, her arms rose in front of her in a stop gesture, her eyes full of fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help,” I told her the truth, my voice calming and soothing. I really wanted to help her. I didn’t mean to frighten her.

“No. Please! D-don’t go near me.”

I didn’t. But, I had to tell her. “You have to believe me. I just want to help you. Someone’s going to kill you…today.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

“Someone’s out here to kill you.” I took another step and tried to approach her.

“Stop! Why are you saying this?”

“I just want to help you.”

“No!”

“Someone’s going to kill you. You have to believe me!” I gritted in frustration.

“Stop this! Stop! You’re scaring me. Why are you doing this?”

“I just want to help you. I’m telling the truth—“

“No, you’re not. Stop this! No one’s going to kill me. You’re crazy!”

“I’m not crazy!”

“Please, just let me go!”

Agh! I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to make her understand! I had to make her believe me. I’m telling the truth, damn it! I just wanted to help her. Warn her. Try to save her. But she didn’t believe me. No one believed me. I had to shake some sense out of her. I knew the truth. I had their fate. Finally, I took the last steps to her.

“Stop!”

“No,” I growled. “I’m telling the truth.”

All of a sudden, everything became a blur. The last thing I heard was a scream.

Taylor dropped to the ground, blood oozing from her head.

December 25, 2014. Christmas Day.

The woman on the TV looked professional and calm as she reported the biggest news of the season.

Name: Rose Isabel J. Smith
Birth: July 29, 1985
Death: November 2, 2048
Cause of Death: Breast Cancer

“A 19 year old girl identified as Taylor Elizabeth Morgan was found dead in an alley at Rosewood Street, this morning. Her head was bashed on the concrete wall by a still missing suspect. Witnesses claimed that they saw a man, who was identified as Jason Tyler McGuire, following her into a convenience store in a gasoline station at around 4:00 in the afternoon yesterday. The McGuire’s family filed a report to the police earlier that McGuire was missing for a week prior the incident, causing them to worry about him since the man was reported to be suffering from schizophrenia. The police are now looking for him with the help of his family. When he’s found, he will be admitted to a psychiatric hospital to check his mental condition, before taking any legal proceedings. Meanwhile, Morgan’s family is still seeking for justice. This is the first Christmas that they’ll be celebrating without their only daughter…”

 

When The Devil Drives

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“Needs must when the devil drives”.

Surely the Prince of Darkness doesn’t drive himself. I mean the undisputed ruler of Hell must have a demon or perhaps a damned soul to chauffeur him around. It stands to reason doesn’t it? On the other hand,maybe Lucifer finds all those flunkies somewhat tedious and this explains why he drives himself.

As for the car, I suspect this must be a real gas guzzler as the Devil, to state the blatantly obvious has no concern for the environment. Hold on a minute though, I have heard a rumour that a number of public relations specialists have the ear of the Prince of Darkness. They are, I understand attempting to persuade him to “go green” and invest in a bicycle thereby enhancing his credibility with the environmental movement. “Sinister green” or “A darker shade of green” have, I believe been mooted as possible slogans to spearhead the campaign.

One final thought, does Lucifer abide by all relevant traffic regulations? Answers please on a postcard to:

The Porter’s Lodge,

Hell’s Gate

Macbeth Towers

Scotland