Calderwriter

Curious...I did see your message and I did answer. Swallowed up in the ether? The ether has a lot to answer for. Or more probably, just me having another 'senior moment.' Please get back to me. I'm chris@chriscalder.com. Thank you.

Hi Yodama, At last! I have been trying to find your message but had a problem navigating the site. So I have to start with an apology, for not replying instantly. I have no idea where your message is, but happy to accept that its disappearance is probably my fault. Just off to click on the little arrow and hopefully, back soon. Chris

A couple of years ago on a bright, sunny but chilly Sunday morning, we had a visitor. We were living in France at the time. Outside the glass patio doors that led from our dining kitchen to the garden, there was a small area of wooden decking. On that morning on the decking, we had a visitor. A wild dog fox. It seems that in many towns and cities in the UK, foxes routinely scavenge for scraps after dark. They have learned two things about human animals: that they are best avoided in daylight hours and that they are a good source of edible scraps. Like their country cousins, urban foxes have to fend for themselves. These days when CCTV is everywhere, foxes are seen regularly on camera in the unlikeliest of urban habitats. Let’s face it, even scavengers have to live. But they are invariably scruffy, unkempt and generally regarded as vermin. Our visitor was the very opposite. When I looked up from my corn flakes and saw him standing there, just six feet away, I was astonished. He was big, really big, in size about the same as a Labrador. His coat was clean and in perfect condition and his eyes inquisitive and bright. But the most amazing thing about this beautiful creature was his attitude. He stood still for about half a minute, examining us through the glass door. Did I detect a look of pity for the humans trapped behind the glass? Perhaps. He, on the other hand, was free. His curiosity satisfied, he turned and, in no hurry at all, loped away into the garden. Never before in all the years that we had been living in France had we seen a fox, never mind one almost close enough to touch. Thank you, mister fox. It was a privilege to meet you.

Hello Sweetpetite, My apologies for not replying sooner. I had a password problem! Technology! So, it's good to hear from you. You say that you know you should start. Perhaps, if you really would like to write, you should just go for it? May I suggest that you start by recalling something -- an incident, perhaps -- from your life that you like repeating to friends? Just get the words down. On paper, or in a Word document. Every potential writer needs a stimulus--in my case it was boredom, whilst recovering in a French hospital from surgery. That's where I put together the bones of my first novel. I would be happy to help you in any way I can, but it is you who have to make the decision to first pick up the pen! You can reach me anytime; as one who tries always respond to readers, I would be happy to hear from you. Chris Calder

Hi jess975, Ah! If you write professional books, (non-fiction), as a writer you are are already half-way there, if you want to write fiction. I penned my first novel out of -- boredom! That happened when I was recovering from surgery in a French hospital. Unable to communicate with the folk around me, I wrote the outline of a story based partly on my own experiences in business. It became my first novel. You start with a plot idea. That can come from anywhere, but best from something from your own memory, tweaked to make it interesting. It doesn't have to be literally true, which is where imagination helps. I'd be glad to help, if you want me to and if I can. All I can say is that novel writing has improved my life beyond my expectations. I am 82 now and still writing! Chris

Hi Netta22, You seem to love writing. Is it just a hobby? Chris