Time Crystal

To celebrate the 1st anniversary of this blog I’ve just posted the revised version of Part 1. It can be downloaded as a pdf from here.

The work has progressed in a major way over the past 12 months. Volume 1 has been written, read and is being revised. I’ve just spent most of today sorting out the troublesome Chapter 27.

Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to all my reader(s?).

Wyken Seagrave
Christmas Day 2007

p.s. Sorry Tehun if you’ve done lots of work on the earlier version. I’d still like to know what you thought about it.

I suspect that the author who shares his methods and techniques with others also has a duty to share his personality so the reader can understand the author’s psychology and some of his motivation for writing. So what kind of personality drives a person to write? And here I am talking about writing on the large scale, writing long works of fiction which take years, gobble up major portions of a human life. What drives a person to make that sort of sacrifice without any certainty of reward?

Parties may reveal something of the answer.

I heard a writer talking on BBC Radio 4 recently describing a disastrous divorce party she had thrown in which her guests, mostly writers, sat around with nothing much to say to each other. One was even so rude as to read a book! She was outraged that they were not adequately celebrating her great new freedom.

I was surprised when I heard this. Most of the writers I know seem relatively out-going, at ease in social situations, apparently enjoying talking to others. Yet the more I thought about it the more I realised that her experience of writers might be more typical than mine. Most of the writers I know are not professional, full-time writers. They are hobbyists. It might well be that professional writers are withdrawn, unsociable individuals.

If that is the case then there is hope for me. For I have been made to realise forcefully over the past week that I am socially very withdrawn and do not cope well with group situations.

A staff Christmas party I went to showed me this very clearly. I sat alone at the drinks reception before hand, talking to nobody. I hardly spoke during the dinner, was relieved when it was all over and left without saying goodbye to anybody.

Even more revealing was the experience of the Christmas party of the singing group I belong to. I suddenly felt the same way I had at school: withdrawn, isolated, at the bottom of the pecking order. Everyone else was joining in, many were leading songs, some were swaying, making funny comments. All I could do was to sing along (we sang after dinner) but there was no way I felt adequate to lead anything or join in whole-heartedly. Watching them, I could not remember a time in my life when I had joined in a group situation in that manner. All my life I have been on the edge of every group.

At the end of the evening I again just wanted to slip away without speaking to anyone. I carefully avoided hugs and kisses and good wishes and farewells that others were giving each other. I can’t cope with that. If you’re going, then go is my motto.

Yet it is precisely this unwillingness to expose my feelings in a group situation, my inability to be a natural leader, which was the key inspiration to being a writer. As a child I always wanted to be the leader of the group, and when I found that others did not blindly follow I gave up and withdrew. So I can believe the divorced writer: many writers may have the same sort of social phobia or shyness which I suffer. It is from this that I draw encouragement. I may be shy in a group, but it is that very failure which drives me to excel as a writer. I write to prove I am a person.

Read Chapter 1 to Warwick Writers’ Group. Entirely positive reaction. Kind comment about the dramatic effect of Danny’s flashback creating tension as the listener waited to know what he would decide.

There was no criticism. This is common in these groups. People don’t get enough time during a reading to analyse a piece deeply enough to identify errors. Afterwards Pam Dunston said she had some more comments. I’ll have to contact her. It’s constructive criticism I’m looking for.

Chris called today and we talked about the quality of writing. She commented on my stripping out the sailing metaphor from Chapter 1. It had started “Danny Kissov spun his chair, a dinghy coming about.” This theme continued all the way through the Chapter. She had told me I had over-done it and a reader had commented he couldn’t see the point. I agreed, since Danny isn’t a sailor (Alex is) and I took the metaphor out.
She said I had fixed neither the story nor the writing, and while I kept changing both I’d never finish the book.
I said I couldn’t tell the difference between good writing and bad, do didn’t know when to stop changing things.
She suggested I focus on the writing, on getting subtlety out of it, by practicing writing haikus. (She’s a poet and knows about these things.)
I know nothing about poetry and have a mental block against it. I didn’t know what a haiku was til she explained it.

A haiku has 17 syllables and 3 lines with 5, 7 and 7 syllables. It should have an environmental theme, a striking image, an underlying philosophy. It should leave the reader with something to think about. The key idea can (should?) not be stated but left for the reader to work out. She thought that even if I only wrote one it would be worth the time invested.

So here goes:

The silent feather
gently falls from branch to root.
But will the earth crack?

Data Storage System Overflow

Version created 17 December 2007

Danny Kissov logged off all his computer systems and spun his chair to face the blue translucent window. The Globe loomed dark against the pale spring sky. Wonder if she’s in there yet? He stood up and lurched heavily against his desk, the room reeling.
Seline glanced at him. “You all right?”
He nodded and winced as pain thumped across his skull. “Just a bit tired. I’m done here. You’re in charge now.”
“You going home? You look like done in.”
“I’m going to see if Maria’s in the Globe. She was supposed to phone at nine when she came out of the clinic. At least, I think…” I can’t remember whether she said nine or ten.
“You didn’t let her go to the antenatal clinic this morning on her own? Why didn’t you call me? We could have swapped shifts.”
“She didn’t…I don’t think you’re quite ready to run the start-up shift yet. Do you?”
“I guess not. Why don’t you phone her?”
“I have. She didn’t answer.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like her, not to phone me. You sure you can cope here?”
“Sure. You’ve done all the hard work.”
He pushed himself away from the desk. “Call me if you need me.” He navigated a course through the visitors as they jostled around the Run Co-ordinator’s desks, their eyes shining with excitement, and hurried up the long ATLAS Control Room. Half-way to the door a flat computer generated voice crackled from the overhead speakers.
“Level Zero Alarm.”
Danny slowed his pace. Level Zero Alarm? Minor fault. Shouldn’t be a problem. Seline will be able to cope with that easily. Nice easy start to her first run. Wonder what kind of error it is, exactly? When he reached the door he paused, waiting for the second half of the message.
“Data Storage System Overflow,” the synthetic speech droned.
Data Storage System Overflow? Never heard of one of those. Danny shielded his tired eyes from the glare of the overhead lights and squinted down the room, trying to bring Seline into focus. So it won’t be that straightforward for her. Still she’ll know how to find the procedure to handle it.
His unsteady gaze finally found Seline’s face. White pointed nose and chin sharp against severe black hair. Hunched shoulders tense. Fixed unblinking eyes staring at a computer screen. Half a dozen visiting scientists were swirling around, leaning over her chair. She didn’t move. The visitors pushed forward, pointing at her screens, talking excitedly. Her anxious eyes darted rapidly between screens, hands, keyboards, faces.
What’s the matter with you, Seline? Why don’t you look for the procedure? If it was me I’d search the web site TWiki. You probably won’t need to do anything much except acknowledge the error.
After a few seconds Seline turned and scanned the room. When she saw Danny she compressed her lips, raised her hands, shook her head.
God, you’re making a meal of this aren’t you? This isn’t like you, Seline. What’s happened to you today? You’re normally so calm and capable. Is it because it’s your first time as Run Co-ordinator? Or is it because you know how worried I am about Maria?
He leaned against the door, trying to calm the waves of nausea sweeping over him. Seline’s dark hair flicked out as her head began to twist from screen to screen. More visitors crowded around her. One reached forward and began typing into one of her keyboards, taking control. She looked at Danny again with a pathetic muted appeal for help.
That’s it, isn’t it? You’re just trying to stop me from going and finding out what’s happened to Maria. This is ridiculous. You’re perfectly capable of handling this. Just get on with it! He glanced at the clock.
09:38
Where is Maria now? She did say she was going to call me at nine, didn’t she? Or was it ten?
The voice was still droning, over and over: “Level Zero Alarm. Data Storage System Overflow.” Danny closed his eyes, the lids dropping like shutters around a fire. He tried to cut out everything else, to sink inside himself, to remember what Maria had said the previous evening. Did she say nine or ten? If it was ten then I don’t need to go right now. I can stop and make sure Seline sorts this problem out. I’ve got to remember. He forced himself to concentrate, to relive the scene in their little kitchen last night.

Maria is cooking supper. I’m sitting at the table trying not to show I’m exhausted.
“I want you to choose his name, Danny.” She lifts a saucepan lid. “Is there a name that really means a lot to you?”
You bet there is. “Would you mind if it was Bulgarian?”
She dips a ladle, holds her long chestnut hair aside, samples the sauce. “Of course not, darling. Whatever you want. Okay, it’s ready. Here we go.” She licks her lips, ladles sauerkraut. “I wonder what the obstetrician will say?”
I’m shocked. ”Is the antenatal clinic tomorrow? God! Why didn’t you remind me? Do you want me to come with you?” I’m trying to work out how I can get to the clinic and also run the overnight shift. “Pity it’s tomorrow. First run of the season always gives problems. You know these scientists. Do lots of repairs and upgrades during the winter shut-down.”
“You’re the only one who can handle a start-up, Danny.”
“The only fit one, anyway. Thank God José Rodriguez is off with the vomits. It’ll give me a chance to shine tonight, ready for the interview next week. I’ve got to get that job, Maria. We’re going to need the extra money when the baby comes. How do you think he is, really? I could call Seline and ask her to come in early tomorrow–”
“No!” She bangs a plate of veal on the table. “You don’t need to call her. Baby’s fine. Everything’s fine. Help yourself.” She sits at the table.”I’ll call you when I come out of the clinic at nine and let you know what’s happened. Is that all right?”
Yes, that’s what she says. “When I come out of the clinic at nine.”
Standing with his back to the ATLAS Control Room door, Danny tried to raise his eyelids but they seemed to be stuck. He couldn’t pull himself back to the present. Only when his head fell forward did he manage to tear them open. Christ, I’m falling asleep standing up.

Danny gripped the door handle, blinked his eyes free of blur, looked down the room. Seline was staring at him again, apparently unable to cope. If you mess up on your first shift it’s going to make me look incompetent for recommending you, and you know it. He looked through the window at the Globe. Sorry Maria. It should only take a few seconds to sort this out. Then I’ll come and see if you’re in there. He sighed, pushed himself away from the door, trudged back down the room. I’ve got to calm Seline down, give her back her confidence. You can see that, can’t you? If she messes up this shift, I’ll be held responsible. Then I’ll never get that Senior Run Co-ordinator’s job.

What I learned from my trip to Geneva was:

• What the inside of a hostel room looks like
• What a tour of the UN shows
• That the Cafe de la Douanne has been demolished (good job I found this out!)
• Where Alex and George land
• How to get arrested by the French border police (nearly)

But so far I’ve received absolutely no feedback from the students in the group.
Might mean they think TC isn’t worth commenting on. Or maybe (as I’d prefer to believe) they’re just very busy. I gave them a copy of the first six or so chapters.
I think I’ll send their teachers a reminder!