David L. Atkinson's Blog, page 129

Writing process - Tradition and local variations

Today's blog is really about enriching the quality of settings for your writing. It must be remarked that it isn't essential but if you are hoping to engage your readers emotionally then verifiable local detail can achieve that. I begin with the humble Yorkshire pudding.
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Each February, the first Sunday of the month is designated British Yorkshire Pudding Day. 
The Yorkshire pudding was traditionally made in a large tin, rather than the individual puddings that we are familiar with today.  Often it was served before the main meal - which helped to fill hungry mouths so less meat needed to be served - particularly during hard times!The traditional way of eating these sumptuous, plump delightful delicacies is with roast beef - but I can eat them with any roast meat - chicken, turkey, pork or just on their own.
The above is the 'official' line but of course there are regional variations. I am not a Yorkshireman but my Mum made Yorkshires every Sunday. They are not difficult to make but the extra flavour and crispiness depends on small additions such as meat fat in the pudding tin, 2 tablespoons of cold water in the batter mix and an extremely hot oven. What ever you do and however you serve them, if they come out right they are beautiful.


The Steele novels have their basis in Yorkshire and whether it is description of places or local traditions they are the 'cement' that secures the setting in the readers mind. It isn't necessary to flood your work with such detail as it can 'clog' your story but small touches can go a long way. In the Steele stories I try to create a local atmosphere and hopefully continue that in all of the stories. Obviously, if you are worried about the readership not wanting to read stories from a particular country or region then you will attempt to write something blandly generic. I believe that in creating a setting for a story the purpose is to produce a vision in the readers mind so detail is essential. As in many aspects of writing it is a question of balance.
The research of your setting is important and comes back to the age old advice of 'write what you know' in whichever form suits. However, we are fortunate in the 21st Century in having the internet. I'm not suggesting that a writer never leaves the confines of the dusty and sterile writing room, but using Google Earth and the like can save time and money. I can honestly say that in all of Patrick A Steele's travels there isn't a country that I've used that I personally haven't visited. Visiting a place doesn't just give experiences that are of a physical nature but also of less tangible aspects that create the atmosphere existing in a different place. It is then a challenge to recreate that atmosphere in the books. Hence Osaka in Japan I've tried to convey crowdedness, humidity and cleanliness whereas in France it is less humid, spacious and can appear slightly unkempt.
Wherever you decide to set your story try and stick to what you know it takes the pressure off. Below is a photo of Doxford House which figures in two or three of the Steele novels and I'm sure that it may inspire someone to write it into their work. It is a real house that is about a mile away from where I spent much of my childhood but has its own secluded, slightly 'spooky' nature that a photograph cannot convey.


God Bless

10 things we didn't know last week.

Another collection of amusing to barmy weekly facts that just go towards enriching our lives by providing us with a smile.

1. In primates there is a correlation between female infidelity and males having large testicles.
Defence rests!!!
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2. Hillary Clinton hasn't driven a car since 1996.

Doing her best to keep death of the roads!!


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3. Biodynamic wine-makers in Burgundy soothe their vines after hail storms with homeopathic doses of arnica.

Been drinking too much of their own products.
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 In 1985, the then Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev banned the sale of vodka before lunch-time.

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5. If you have an itchy arm, looking in the mirror and scratching the mirror image of that arm (the one that isn't bothering you) will help, although it only provides a quarter of the relief of scratching the itchy arm.

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6. Food can be grown 100 feet (30 metres) underground.

And I thought that my father was mining coal.
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7. David Cameron and Al Murray share William Thackeray as an ancestor.

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8. Humans picked up gene types linked to smoking addiction when they interbred with Neanderthals.

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9. Half of men have no idea of their partner's dress size.

Why would they need to? It is rather like men who know their girlfriend's ring size - what's that all about?
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10. You can open a can of food just by rubbing it on a concrete surface.

But do you have any control over extracting the contents and will the said foodstuffs have powdered can as a garnish?

God Bless

Writing - Steele came to Yorkshire

The Yorkshire Chapter
‘Why is it always cold on station platforms?’ he thought to himself as he stood and watched the old, dirty and rattling transport shudder its way towards Huddersfield. The man had arrived at Mirfield station situated in the Calder River valley which seemed to be presently doubling as a wind tunnel. He descended the concrete steps to the road and looked about for a taxi. Nothing! To his left a road ran arrow straight to what looked like not much in the way of a town. In the opposite direction he could see a supermarket sign and most of his fellow passengers that had disembarked, were heading in that direction. The man decided to follow them and a few minutes later he was standing at a crossroads. He’d bought an apartment in the town because no one had heard of the place and he wished to remain anonymous. Well – as far as his past was concerned.“Is tha lookin’ for summat?”Steele, for that was the man’s name, turned and considered the gentleman who’d addressed him. He thought about the question and even though he was not from Yorkshire realised what the man had meant. “Yes,” Steele smiled. “A decent pub.”The helpful passer-by directed him to his left to a hostelry named The Railway. ‘Because they pull real ale’ he had been informed. That was the direction in which he went. He was hungry, thirsty and fairly sure that he would be able to hire a taxi to take him to his new home once his appetite was replete. “Welcome sir,” was the cheery greeting from the middle-aged lady behind the bar. “What can I get for you?”Steele looked round for somewhere to leave his wheeled suitcase.“Just pop it under the coat rack. A pint of Landlord?” she suggested.“Is it hand pulled?” Steele asked.“Yes,” the lady replied and went away to fulfil his request.As it was early evening the pub wasn’t so busy and from the smell emanating from a doorway at the opposite side of the bar they did food.It was an hour later that he rang for a taxi which took seconds to arrive, or so it seemed. The driver was an elderly Asian man with that Yorkshire accent. Steele wondered how long it would be before he found his own vowels begin to flatten. The apartment, really a one bedroomed flat, was okay, he’d only seen photographs up to walking through the door. A separate kitchen/dining room, a lounge, bedroom and bathroom greeted him in an anonymous, magnolia sort of way. It was dusk but there was enough light to see the green hillside opposite that appeared to be predominantly being farmed. Steele liked a view. During his upbringing he’d spent enough hours staring at four walls and in homes where the view was restricted. Nottingham University had given him a taste for the outdoors and when he’d applied for the job in Leeds, and been accepted, Steele decided that he didn’t want to live in the bustling city but nearer the countryside. Mirfield had all of what he required. It was a described by the estate agent as a busy town with great road and rail links, on the edge of open countryside, and with good walking available less than an hour away. On the map it was clear that the journey to the Dales may take a little longer than an hour but they were accessible.The furniture he’d managed to buy online was due to arrive the following day but the central heating and water was turned on so he wouldn’t freeze in his sleeping bag. He went to sleep feeling quietly confident, well at least there was a decent pub.Setting up a new home was always time consuming, expensive and full of frustrations so after a morning of making little progress he reckoned that he deserved a pint of that very nice beer and some lunch. Steele also wanted to put some feelers out for a cleaner and handyman. It was the same lady behind the bar and she was pulling his preferred beverage as he walked up to the bar.“Landlord sir?” she asked.“Patrick,” he smiled and nodded.“I haven’t seen you round here before,” she continued pulling his beer.“Just moved here from Nottingham. I have a new job in Leeds,” he finished.“Do you live close?” she wasn’t being nosey really just placing him in her own mind and also for those in earshot.He explained where he lived and that he had the flat and a factory unit not far from his new home. The ‘Annexe’ as he called it, had been empty and going very cheap. It was in the valley about a quarter of a mile down the hill next to the river. There wasn’t a garage with the apartment and he had a treadmill and some weights that he used to keep himself fit and nowhere to keep them, so the Annexe was ideal.“You don’t know anyone who needs a cleaning job do you Tina?” the barmaid had introduced herself.The woman thought for a few seconds and then,“Funnily enough friends of ours, Bill and Stacey, are looking for something part-time. They’re both retired. They might be interested.” Tina finished.“How do I get in touch?” Steele asked.A few days later Steele had achieved a lot, he’d set Stacey Fordyce on as his cleaner, but he had nothing but some decorating for Bill. Within a couple of months the apartment was as he wanted it and Bill was working on the Annexe. The Railway was firmly his ‘local’ and he was beginning to make other contacts in the place as the locals were very friendly. He’d not come across a dour tight-fisted Yorkshire man as yet!Friday nights were always busy in the Railway but this particular Friday there was a bunch of rowdy young men in suits that, Steele was informed, were on the ‘Ale Trail’ or, judging from their state, nearer the end. Steele had enough and decided to go to the toilet before setting off home. A young man was just leaving the men’s room and reeled into Patrick.“Steady son!” exclaimed Steele for which he had to dodge a wild swing aimed at his head.What the young drunken man couldn’t have known was that Steele had some self-defence training and as he’d swung at Patrick with his right hand he’d exposed the outside of his right knee. Steele raised his own right foot and smashed it against the lad’s braced leg just above the knee joint. The noise of tearing cartilage was sickening. Steele exited the pub by the rear door and set off home without speaking to anyone. Five minutes later a car pulled up beside him, it wasn’t a police vehicle. The window rolled down and an Oriental gentleman looked at Patrick,“I think you can help me,” he said pleasantly.

God Bless

Writing - Short story: A First Foreign Kiss

A First Kiss
Sixty seconds doesn’t seem a long period of time but if you consider the events that can occur in that period every minute of our lives should be valued. An example would be the fact that sprinters should be able to run one hundred metres six times! In a flooded part of the UK 10 tons of water was being pumped from the Somerset Levels in the same period of time.It is often the case that when you encounter a new situation your first impressions formed in the early minutes tend to colour your opinions and reactions thereafter. This was the case when I made a visit to Amsterdam when still at school.The six of us had been walking for hours exploring the city but then the time came to return to the hostel. Amsterdam is an intriguing place with streets arranged in a semi-circular design, Dam Square at the hub. The hostel we were staying in was on a street with an unpronounceable name at number 39. The buildings we were hurrying passed were in the high two hundreds and industrial, we knew that we were going to be late and needed to rush. That was the mistake. Perhaps if we hadn’t been in so much of a hurry one of us would have noticed that the word ‘Nieuw’ was placed in front of the street name. Effectively we had walked to the wrong end of a parallel road and once we’d corrected the mistake and returned to the place in which we were staying we were exhausted. We’d certainly seen more of Amsterdam than most of our friends!Our little group consisted of three of each sex who didn’t really know each other that well because we were in different year groups. The girls were in the year above us lads. I think they’d been selected to chaperone us! There was this one girl about the same height as me, with a peaches and cream complexion, long brown hair usually tied in a ponytail, brown eyes and brimming with confidence. The six of us had been thrown together rather and so while we were panicking slightly about being lost in a foreign city there was no time for attractions between the girls and boys to begin to develop. On the other hand the six of us being somewhat in adversity broke down some of the normal barriers that exist between the sexes in the mid teen years. Teachers have exquisite skills in admonishing pupils but being away from home they were actually quite gentle with us, when we arrived at the hostel thirty minutes late. Everyone else had eaten and we were banished to the girls’ bedroom to eat a packed meal that had been prepared for us. I ended up sitting on the same bed as Celia. I remember thinking it was an old-fashioned name but she was quite relaxed and pleasant to talk to so we ate and chatted. The packed lunch contained a boiled egg, still in its shell!What happened next took place well within a minute but influenced the next three years of my life. Don’t ask me why but fourteen year old me decided that it would be a good idea to crack the shell of my egg on Celia’s head! I know it was stupid, childish and likely to propel me to the teachers once again for punishment. The disturbing thing was that as soon as I had done it I knew that I’d hurt her, I knew that I’d done a stupid thing and I was apologising before she’d finished reacting.Our eyes met at that point and her gentle, brown orbs were brimming with tears but not just as a result of the pain. I reached out and put my hand on her head, her hair felt silky and apologised as sincerely as I knew how. The next minute was electric. Celia could have screamed at me to ‘Get out!’ and sort comfort with her female friends. She didn’t!We were sitting quite close, facing, and leaning in towards each other. The quality of the following sixty seconds was nothing short of dream-like. Celia completed the distance between us and we kissed. I remember wonderful feelings of warmth spreading throughout my body. It was almost as if we had become one person. Everyone else in the room disappeared into an indistinct haze. I don’t suppose that this first kiss lasted more than a few seconds before the wonderful moment was broken by our cheering friends. I wasn’t tremendously disappointed because I knew it would happen again.
I wasn’t wrong.
God Bless

Poetry Thursday 95 - Love's Pool

Inspiration is not really definable. It can arrive from infinite sources or even a chain of events and this was the case in the offering below. I am presently contemplating a 'Father of the Bride' speech for rapidly approaching nuptials and my daughter has given out a reading for a friend to deliver in church. The reading is from the 'Song of Solomon'. I was looking for the reading within that book of the Bible and was impressed by what I found there. In turn I found the metaphor that love is as a pool come into my mind.Read on!

Love’s Pool
Love is like a pool, deep, its depths unknown,what lurks beneath the surface?It is fine to roll alongignorant of what lies before or beneath you.What monsters lurk in its dark stillness?
Take care, look after one another,leave nothing to chance be aware!On the calmest of days when the sun shinesfrom the peace can come the end.Lulled into a false sense of security.
You think it is your pool.Anyone can enter – stay alert!The foundation is a fertile soupfor any malign growth.Keep your pool clean and fresh.
Beware the new fish that enters.The temptation of the new.It is polluting your pool with false hopeIf you jump pools you’re still in a pool.But then you are the new fish.
Enjoy the known poolthe familiarity of every ripple.Knowledge of the crevices and dark placesbrings gentle warmth and confidence.Match your stroke with your partner’s.©David L Atkinson January 2014
God Bless

Writing - Just for fun but for who?

Just for fun

Comedy is difficult and so I have endless admiration for those who can write it. Like so many aspects of writing we produce words for an audience of millions with millions of possible interpretations so it is great when half a dozen like it!!!!

  SCOTTISH COMPASSION
A man was sitting on a blanket at the beach.He had no arms and no legs.Three women, from England , Wales , and Scotland , were walking past andfelt sorry for the poor man.The English woman said "Have you ever had a hug?"The man said "No," so she gave him a hug and walked on.The Welsh woman said, "Have you ever had a kiss?"The man said, "No," so she gave him a kiss and walked on.The Scottish woman came to him and said, "'ave ya ever been f…..d, laddie?"The man broke into a big smile and said, "No".She said, "Aye, well ya will be when the tide comes in.
Now some people will be offended by this, some will laugh their socks off and some will find it mildly amusing. How does that work? Actually it doesn't matter. What really matters is that it is there for people to read. And that is the crux of the matter. 
We write because we love writing we are read when someone else loves our writing.
The trick is getting your work to people so that they may love it. When I go to sleep tonight I hope to dream of the answer to that conundrum!
God Bless

A Tuesday Recipe - Liver and bacon saute with potatoes and parsley

I fancied a little offal this weekend and decided on liver when I really should have considered the date! Saturday was Burn's Day and really I should have been eating haggis which I do enjoy. In fact, for the folk have never eaten haggis, it goes exceptionally well with chicken rather than the usual stuffing that you may buy. Haggis may make an appearance another time.
I do enjoy liver and if you don't over cook, it doesn't adopt the dry texture which can be so off putting. I chose lamb's liver and cooked it for 6 or 7 minutes. My mistake with this meal was a shortage of spring onions and I didn't have the cream that can be used as a garnish but I did use a small amount of single cream with the sauce that is on the side. It is a very tasty meal.
The full recipe is on the relevant TAB.
An Historical Note

On January 27, 1945, the Soviet army entered Auschwitz/Birkenhau and liberated more than 7,000 remaining prisoners, who were mostly ill and dying. It is estimated that at minimum 1.3 million people were deported to Auschwitz between 1940 and 1945; of these, at least 1.1 million were murdered.
God Bless

Writing - Emotional responses to writing.

Once again the day began with a compliment about my dystopian story Cessation. A friend finished reading and described a powerful emotional response to the ending. It was really pleasing. One of my aims in writing is to entertain and that comes about from the emotional engagement of the reader and it seems, from the several comments I've received, that Cessation is doing that for me. As a writer you have to be pleased. All I can say is, buy the book and enjoy!


Readers like to be touched, moved, by story. They like to imagine themselves in worlds and situations that challenge them, that give them opportunity to do and be something other than what they do or are in their real lives. Fiction, whether in book or film or games, allows people to not only step into other worlds, but to experience those worlds. To do what they can’t in the course of a normal day. To feel beyond their normal feelings.
There are a number of ways in achieving an emotional response in the reader but a list would be impossible to create as it would be different for each individual reader. Humans all react differently in different circumstances.

Write in scenes. This is something that I feel that I'm growing into as my writing experience progresses. It would be too easy a trap to fall into to adopt a 'reporting' style. When introducing a fearful situation it would be okay to write something like,

'Steele was nervous about opening the door into the large warehouse'

OR

'To Steele's surprise, his hand trembled slightly as he reached for the door handle that would gain him access to the cavernous warehouse'

By describing how your character is feeling you are engaging the emotional side of your readers brain. They empathise with the character reflecting back on similar situations in their own lives. In other words they are there!

Make your character sympathetic. Describe facets of the characters personality as well as skills and opinions. If a reader can identify the type of person your characters are they will have something to engage with and so will understand the emotional reactions that you include in your stories. Of course the obvious is also true and when writing a villain into your work you can induce repugnance by describing the evil nature of your bad character. 

Choose your words carefully. Using swear words with a character that doesn't normally swear indicates a stress that is going on. 

Use the senses. Describe scenes and engage the readers senses by using smells, sights, sounds, feelings and touch words.


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I could go on at length, there are other strategies, but I'm not trying to produce a manual of how to write the Atkinson way as that, up to present, is unproven. What I'm trying to do is give food for thought and if people reading this are inspired to use some of my ideas then that is great. 

God Bless

10 things we didn't know last week

You may wonder what this has to do with writing! Well each point is in its own way a source of inspiration. You could produce a short piece of writing on each of the points below. They may take you to some strange places but that really depends on how far you're prepared to let your imagination go.

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1. Twin toilets of the kind spotted at Sochi are common at Russian football stadiums.
I don't know what the fuss is all about. The Romans didn't stick to just 2 toilets!


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2. Sprinkled sugar can help stop concrete from setting quickly.

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3. The world's oldest-known living cancer dates back 11,000 years to an ancient husky-like dog.

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4. All forms of corporal punishment - from smacking to hair-pulling - have been outlawed in Sweden since 1979.

Spare the rod and spoil the child!
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5. It's possible for a bat in the UK to fly across the sea to continental Europe.

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6. The average age of Japanese farmers is 70.

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Iranian musical instruments
7. Showing musical instruments has been banned by Iran's state broadcaster for the last 30 years.

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8. More French died at Gallipoli than Australians.

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9. The RAF keeps supplies of Viagra.

Shooting for the skies!!!!
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10. There are at least three different approved ways of saying Hyundai, depending on whether you're in South Korea, the UK or US.

God Bless

Writing - Nanny states and ridiculous ideas

Its good for the soul to have a rant very now and again - opens the pores, aerates the blood and drives the circulation. It has been one of those weeks where the official bodies linked to health have been making pronouncements and it really  drives me. They are what I call the 'we shouldn't be dying at all' mob! You know the sort - 5 a-day; 2 litres of water/day; 10000 steps/week; BMI worshipping trendy health freaks. Its interesting that one of those, BMI, has recently been discredited as not accurate.
Well this week we've had the following:-
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Pollution increases the chance of heart attacks.
[image error]Central heating makes you fat! Now my father may well have agreed with that because he always felt that the advent of central heating caused children to grow like bean poles so it obviously has some effect on human growth!
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Thousands of lives could have been saved if the UK had adopted the kinds of treatment offered in Sweden and other countries.
And so it goes on! I have some bad news for all these health driven neurotics - you ARE going to die! Sounds depressing but that is only the inevitability. In my latest book, Cessation - dystopian story, the subject is handled because of the breakdown of society and the inevitable collapse of the health service. Will man survive?
I was quite pleased to see that it's not just the case in the UK. I saw the following article and was reminded of author Bert Carson's love of Marmite,
Canada 'orders Briton to stop selling Marmite and Irn Bru' 
  Marmite falls foul of Canada's laws because it is enriched with vitamins. The owner of a British food shop in Canada says he has been ordered to stop selling Marmite, Ovaltine and Irn Bru because they contain illegal additives.
And the corollary
'Marmageddon' over as New Zealand shops restock Marmite 
Marmite supply in New Zealand was scarce last year. Marmite has returned to supermarket shelves in New Zealand for the first time in over a year, after shortages caused by the Christchurch quake.The February 2011 quake damaged the only factory in the country that produces Marmite, forcing it to close.

I like it on wholemeal toast!!!!

What goes round comes round!

So there is fuel aplenty for stories related to human health. It even has its own genre and includes films such as 'Contagion' and 'Outbreak' and you could argue the Sylvestre Stallone film 'Demolition Man' fitted into this group although it is described as SF.
When writers are looking for inspiration there is an endless supply of sources in current affairs and it is free to dip into, bend and utilise to our hearts content.


God Bless