Monthly Archives: April 2007

The sense of an ending

I’m reaching the end of my second Sam Dyke book, and it’s strange and exciting in the same breath. Strange because it’s been 2 years in the writing. Exciting … because it’s been 2 years in the writing.

My books come to me in flashes – a beginning, an end, maybe a scene from somewhere in the middle. Nowadays I write according to quite a strict outline, whereas in previous years I’ve just written away from a beginning towards a middle, then away from a middle towards an end. The scenes in-between have come as necessary to fill the gaps. With an outline, though, all the thinking is done in the planning stage and the writing does become easier. It’s a kind of structured inspiration. I use the creative flashes in putting together a structure, and then I stick to it.

But an odd thing happens as you get closer to the end of a book. All of a sudden you start to have yet more ideas. The plan you had for the end seems flat when there are so much more interesting ideas out there. But if you follow that new idea, does that affect what’s gone before? Without intending it, your perfectly structured ending goes out of the window as new possibilities open up. And new ways of rewriting what you’ve spent 2 years writing …

So the end becomes a potential new beginning. And you begin to wonder whether what you’ve been doing for so long is in fact working. Is the reader going to care what happens to your characters? Is she going to be able to follow the subtleties of the plot that you’ve cleverly built in … or are they so subtle that in fact no one could follow them?

The tendency is to rush the end. To get it all down as quickly as possible. To conclude the story line, wrap up the characters, and write THE END. So of course that’s exactly the time you have to slow down. Stretch out the ending. Take longer over the action. Put in more introspective moments at just the point that the action is heating up. Add dialogue between your main characters to help them understand what has gone on beforehand. Describe in more detail the precise facts surrounding the events that conclude your story. Because if you don’t, you get to the end of the tale before the reader is psychologically prepared for it. They bring with them everything that has gone before – the storyline, the characters’ development, the prospect of a future beyond the end of the book. And if you cut them off too short, they feel let down and deprived. The story has been ripped from them before they’re ready for it, and they’ll feel disappointed rather than sated.

This is the biggest lesson I’ve learned in many years of writing stories and novels: your readers have a sense of an ending that will be right and appropriate. You have to give that to them, or they’ll never forgive you.

Altered Life

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Barry Morse: Remember with Advantages

Most television audiences think of British actor
Barry Morse
as either one of two characters: Lieutenant Philip Gerard, the man obsessed with capturing Dr. Richard Kimble (David Janssen) in the classic TV drama The Fugitive (ABC, 1963-1967), or as Professor Victor Bergman in Space: 1999 (
ITC, 1975-1977), a show that remains hugely popular among sci-fi viewers throughout the world. And while those two particular roles remain important to Morse, they also represent just a small fraction of the hundreds of other different characters he’s brought to life on stage, screen and television in the course of his 70-year career. Morse’s vast body of work in the theatre covers everything from Shakespeare and George Bernard Shaw, to Gore Vidal and A.R. Gurney, to his own critically acclaimed one-man show, Merely Players. He’s also appeared in a host of television shows in the U.S., the U.K., and Canada, including such classics as The Twilight Zone and The Untouchables and groundbreaking miniseries like The Winds of War, War and Remembrance, and Sadat. I first came to know Barry Morse in the early ’90s, when I interviewed him several times for my book The Fugitive Recaptured. He’s a marvelous storyteller with uncanny powers of recollection, great warmth and compassion, and a cheeky sense of humor (no surprise there, folks… he is, after all, veddy, veddy British). He’s also as refreshingly down to earth as any actor I’ve come to know. Talk to him just once, and he’ll make you feel as though you’ve known him your entire life. That’s part of the fun of Remember with Advantages, Morse’s memoir of his long career in stage, film and television, which he co-authored along with Portland-based author/playwright Anthony Wynn and Canadian writer/artist Robert Wood. In many ways, it really is like catching up with an old friend… an old friend whose life and career, as Oscar and Emmy winner Martin Landau writes in the book’s Foreword, “is a virtual history of the twentieth century, through the peaceful periods and the wars, the very beginnings of television, his vast experiences in film, and his beginnings and enduring love affair with the theatre in England, Canada and the U.S., [and which] deserves to be read by everyone on the planet, theatre folk and civilian alike.”

Barry Morse and his book will be the subject of our next two editions of Talking Television with Dave White, the program I co-host along with Dave White on global radio station This Tuesday, May 1, beginning at 11:00 pm ET, 8:00 pm PT, we’ll talk live with Wynn and Wood about their work with Barry, which in addition to Remember with Advantages includes writing and staging many theatre productions featuring Morse over the past decade, including Bernard and Bosie, a two-act play (written by Wynn) based on the correspondence of George Bernard Shaw and poet Sir Alfred “Bosie” Douglas. Throughout the program we’ll also play excerpts from an hour-long interview Dave and I recorded with Barry earlier this spring from his home in London, England.  

Then next Tuesday, May 8, also beginning at 11:00 pm ET, 8:00 pm PT, we’ll play the interview with Barry Morse in its entirety. As you might imagine, because the name of the program is Talking Television, much of our conversation with Barry focuses on his work for the small screen, which dates back to the very first television broadcasts originating from the BBC in the mid-1930s. But we also touch on topics ranging from his work as a stage director to his predilection for all things George Bernard Shaw, from his fluency in many languages to his penchant for American accents. (Long before Hugh Laurie on House, Morse was the first British actor to play an American character on an American network television series, which he did for four years as Gerard on The Fugitive.)

Talking Television is a weekly 90-minute call-in program that discusses all aspects of television. We stream live every Tuesday night, but if you should miss our live broadcast, all of our shows are available 24/7 on the archives page at I hope you’ll join us for both our programs on the career of Barry Morse. They promise to be a fitting tribute to a distinguished actor who has entertained so many of us for so many years.


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Un amigo con letra propia publicara con Dexeo Editores

   Luis Tamargo es natural de Santander, en el norte español. Cursó estudios de Filología Hispánica
y ha publicado “Escritos Para Vivir” (1998), su primer libro de poemas; “Era Un Bosque” (2004) y
“A Media Distancia” (2006), de narrativa. La prosa de Luis Tamargo se desliza suave para sugerir múltiples sensaciones al lector. En ellas la descripción de un mundo de vivencias íntimas, de velados temores, se entrecruza con la realidad vivida, con el ensueño anhelado, y la amargura de las experiencias personales se sublima en la poesía de los sentimientos sencillos. Además de su obra poética, agrupada bajo el sobretítulo de “Poemágenes”, trabaja en la actualidad en una selección de relatos breves donde la prosa adquiere una dimensión poética emocional.


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Hot Town, Summer In The City

The temperatures are climbing and so is the need for my energy to spike to meet the heavy schedule I’ve committed to for the next five months. I find the more I write the more I’m asked to do. I have actually had to turn down a few requests because I also find I can’t do it all. Valuable time for writing has suffered because I went piggy on my plate and piled it too high. Recent world events in too many hot spots to list have also clouded my focus. Thank goodness the end of our college semester is near. I’m looking forward to the break so I can get to the beach, wring out my mind and start fresh. Yesterday, I sat in my car, outside the new science building, munching a granola bar (one of the good ones that cancels out all the health benefits because it’s chocolate covered) and just chilled before my 6 pm class; last class of the day. I kept scanning the new architecture and wondering if the PC tower to my computer and overhead projection system would be heavy enough to crash through the thick glass windowpanes if we needed to get out of the classroom in a hurry. New buildings just don’t have windows that open any more. I wondered if we could all drop and roll from the second floor to the hard, barren clay without major injury. I mulled over Friday’s arrest of a quite normal looking, high school senior from one of our county’s small towns. The student’s car, parked on school grounds, contained an A-15 semi-automatic Colt with 120 rounds of .223 ammunition. The private, staccato cognition wrenched my heart as real and hypothetical scenarios painfully shot through my brain like arrows, one after another. Fortunately, a snowy white Ringbilled Gull swooped on the descent past my car, distracting me from the discomfort of my, at least once-a-day, thoughts. I thanked him. Checking my side mirror, I saw him touch down in the lot and commence a tug of war with a Crow over a carelessly tossed Cheetos bag. It was intense. Both hungry birds pulled and pulled. Although the Crow was slightly smaller, he held his own. At one point they dropped the bag at the same time, squawked and cawed at each other, then both grabbed the bag again and yanked back and forth some more. With the second release by both allegedly deserving parties, the Crow did all the talking. The Gull stepped back without a squawk and allowed the Crow to shake the bag vigorously, sprinkling orange crumbs and one chunk of Cheeto on the ground. The Crow made off with the big piece and the Gull cleaned up the crumbs. Both had won. Just another example of effective communication; the key to understanding and satisfactory resolution. Now, back to my crazy schedule. I plan on country and city book touring this summer in my own casually subtle but reaching way. Central Illinois, Texas and New York City are on the itinerary. It will be HOT in New York City, and hopefully, in more ways than one. If anyone would like me to come your way for an author/book event, just let me know. There are festivals and readings at home to look forward to at Hammocks Beach, New River, Topsail Beach and the famously delicious Blueberry Festival in Burgaw. Come. Stop by the “Authorteers” corner at the BBF in June and we’ll share some warm kettle corn and cold blueberry cider. No matter what . . let’s find moments to laugh, days to love, and precious life to live. That’s how I roll.bloghayrollridenx.jpg
Linda Bergman-Althouse

author of “Save Them All”

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Relato ALAS

Hubo un tiempo en que la historia esperaba para escribirse al día siguiente. Por entonces, el mundo se bastaba a sí mismo, pero para el joven Kumbi nada resultaba extraño y sí nuevo todo lo que acontecía desde que el dios Chen´za se ocultaba hasta que volvía a renacer. Todo lo lejos que alcanzaba su memoria siempre había sido así, lo había escuchado en los consejos de la tribu de boca de los guerreros más aguerridos. Ahora era su turno. Desde el confín de los orígenes la selva había marcado la ley de sus antepasados. Para un indio tupùa esto significaba un paso adelante en el crecimiento como ser.
Kumbi abandonó el poblado, desnudo, mientras la tribu entera le daba la espalda. Formaba parte del rito. Atrás dejaba la infancia y, al regreso de su aventura, volvería con las alas del Cutzhul, pájaro de cresta azul, el trofeo que lo convertía en adulto y lo transportaba a su verdadero sitio en la tierra. Se internó allá donde se perdían las sendas, temeroso, pero con orgullo, ataviado tan solo con las pinturas de guerra que el anciano Schamá le trazó sobre el rostro como correspondía a un futuro jefe. Desde un principio advirtió el peligro, aquella espesa sensación a su alrededor. También lo aprendió en los consejos, el gran guerrero Endaole contó en una ocasión cómo hubo de transformarse en árbol para descubrir la faz de sus perseguidores. Por eso, Kumbi tomó raudo sus precauciones, dispuesto a superar las tres pruebas que lo devolverían victorioso a la aldea. La más compleja de ellas, para su sorpresa, fue la primera en realizar con éxito. Agradeció a los dioses la circunstancia de disponer el encuentro con aquel cadáver de caimán y lo tomó como un inmejorable presagio. Confeccionó con la piel del reptil un taparrabos para cubrirse y, avezado por el triunfo, se preparó para la prueba siguiente.
El ave de cresta azul habita las copas altas de los bálibos, que abundan en los lugares húmedos y pueblan las orillas de los ríos. Encaramado en lo alto, el joven guerrero acechaba el aleteo nervioso de los pájaros sagrados; su tronco erguido y el entramado de sus ramas lo convertían en el observatorio ideal. Una noche en que la vieja hermana Toancal menguaba pudo vislumbrar desde su refugio el motivo de su escondido temor… La sombra del fiero Jagua rastreaba entre el follaje y el indio supo que no quedaba mucho tiempo, aunque tampoco durmió aquella noche.
Inició la vuelta al poblado con su tocado de plumas azules recién estrenado, ansioso por abrazar a la pequeña Laioa, su recompensa por cruzar el umbral de la adolescencia. En la última prueba, el Schamá, encarnación viva del dios supremo, concedía el don del guerrero a la vista de los méritos obtenidos y en presencia del resto de la tribu. Pero antes de que toda la comunidad celebrase la fiesta de su madurez el iniciado debía de esperar la llegada del alba nueva para su entrada triunfal en el poblado.
Coincidió por entonces que la ausencia de la hermana Toancal no iluminaba la noche y que el aliento del Jagua rondaba aún más cerca de sus pasos. Cuando el indio cruzó la oscuridad del poblado burlando el sueño de los centinelas su júbilo victorioso no le cabía en sí de gozo. No le fue difícil encontrar la cabaña de la bella Laioa, tantas veces que soñó con su encuentro; se habían criado juntos y ahora, por fin, podrían formar pareja, pues tal sería el deseo que le concedería su nuevo rango a la mañana siguiente.
Ya despuntaban los primeros rayos del Gran Padre Chen´za cuando los guerreros tupúa empuñaron sus armas dispuestos para la caza. Fue entonces, en el lindero con la selva cuando hallaron los restos de sangre y plumas azules diseminados entre señales de lucha. No muy lejos, colgado de una rama rota, pendía el deshilachado taparrabos de piel. Y entonces, lo descubrieron… la silueta moteada del jaguar desapareció de un ágil salto entre la vegetación. Dicen que la ira del dios del Mundo fue tan inmensa que de una pisada borró la tribu tupúa de la faz de la selva…
-Créame, amigo, ahí abajo viven seres que cambian para seguir siendo. El verdor de ese universo frondoso tiene un precio…
El teniente había escuchado durante el trayecto la historia del viejo nativo, que gesticulaba con vehemencia al tiempo que pilotaba el aeroplano. Manejaba los mandos con la maestría de un veterano maquinista ferroviario. Sobrevolaban la isla cuando el teniente se inclinó hacia la ventanilla. En aquella zona, efectivamente, la costa semejaba la huella de un gigantesco pie… Por un momento quedó absorto en la idea de un dios enfadado por la ineptitud de sus fieles. Desde la altura, el corazón verde de la selva brillaba como una joya sagrada.
El ala del aparato le sacó del estupor, al virar, y sonrió para sus adentros. La misión tocaba a su fin, podría ahora felicitar a los muchachos.

El autor :

* Es una Colección “SonRelatos”, © Luis Tamargo.-

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Recently, I heard the sad news that author Elaine Viets had a stroke. This is hard to imagine as Elaine is young, vibrant and healthy-looking. Hearing something like this is a reminder that we need to use our time wisely as we may not have as much to waste as we think. Fortunately, she is recovering, though it will take some time.

Life is too short to fret about the little things or harbor bad thoughts. We need to let those we love know how much we appreciate them before it’s too late. I don’t want to sound morbid, but too often I’ve talked to people who told me they wished they’d done or said something to someone before it was too late.

Right now I’m appreciating my sister who I was able to visit this past weekend. Our 97 year old mother was living with sis when she passed away. Sis is the executor of her estate (such as it is) and is stuck with trying to figure out how things are to be divided between the two of us. I’m quite happy that she has that task and will be just as happy with whatever she does.

For many years mom lived with me, but when my sis decided to move to Vegas, mom wanted to go with her. She came and stayed with us for a month or two, but most she was with sis. Fortunately, last summer, my sis planned a cruise for all of her kids, grandkids and greats and mom was included. I tagged along as it was a perfect opportunity to spend some time with mom as well as my sis’s family. I’m so glad I did, since it was the last time I got to be with her.

On a lighter note, I am thrilled to report that I’m the Author of the Month on Go to and click on my name for a fun interview.

Give your loved ones a hug and do something fun with them.


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DEXEO EDITORES en loquo periodico virtual………..

Somos una empresa que esta empezando como editorial y queremos publicar gratis a los autores para formar nuestro catalogo personal y mostrar la calidad de nuestros productos,no queremos empezar cobrando a los autores cuando estamos empezando a editora ha publicado quince libros y empezo a escribir a los 9 años,si quieres saber mas acerca de ella o su proyecto visita su pagina en:   o en su periodico virtual 

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