Writing My First Novel Online

Is it wrong to leave this for a while?

2009-04-17T21:39:00.006+01:00

Over the past few weeks I have found it very hard to get any writing done. We have been so busy with one thing and another (I won't bore you with all the gory details here but I will be updating my blog very soon) and I just haven't had the time or to be honest the inclination to get down to work.

But last night, in the wee small hours, when I was tossing and turning, I started a story in my head, you know what it's like, you meet someone by chance and you start making up a story about them - well OK maybe you don't but I do - and believe me it can be a curse. Sometimes I create such a convoluted tale that if I ever meet them again I have trouble separating fact from fiction - sorry I digress - so this morning I get up and last night's story is still there right in front of me, so rather than fight it I decided to put Max's story on hold and write down this new tale.

So here it is, the beginings of a new novel on a new website http://deathinthemorning.blogspot.com/

The first 2000 words of the first draft are written and I would very much appreciate it if you would take a gander and tell me what you think - be honest - (but always remembering that I am a sensitive soul who is prone to tears if she has too much negative criticism)

Here's the thing

2009-03-23T17:23:00.004Z

It was while I was looking at some of my notes earlier today, I began to think that if any of you are new to my blog you might be wondering why I am posting 'part' chapters of the story (and not very well written ones at that) well without boring my old faithfuls, it might be good time to set out my stall - so to speak.

This blog is a work in progress - you are seeing everything I'm doing, warts and all. I can't see the point in editing and rewriting behind the scenes only to present you with huge posts of the finished chapters just to try impress you, or worse still, to hope for lots of comments like 'gosh what a clever girl you are' 'I never knew you had it in you' 'who would have thought that when you were pretending to buy that TV when you were Mystery Shopping that really there was a budding author just waiting to burst out' Although the occasional word of encouragement wouldn't go amiss!!

Seriously though, when I originally set up this blog it was so that you could see how I am coping with every thing to do with writing my very first novel, everything from the research, through the story development as well as the first drafts, live and uncensored. I wanted you to see how I have travelled from an idea to hopefully the finished article (and every step along the way).

So there you are, you are reading about how I'm writing my first novel as well as the story as it grows, changes, gets better or more probably as I bin one draft and move onto the next - and between you and me, this is not as easy as it sounds. So wish me well and keep reading...

Chapter1,2

2009-03-11T15:02:00.000Z

With the sounds of the ward surrounding him like a heavy blanket, Max lay there, unmoving, trying to make sense of the situation. The last thing that he could remember was sitting having a drink in the sunshine. The Klimt exhibition had been a real treat, especially after being stuck all morning listening to his fellow directors panicking about the state of the economy. Dear God, what did they know about recession? They were all far too young to have been working during the last one. If he’d had his way, Max wouldn’t have anyone under 50 on the board of such an influential construction company such as Napier’s. Stupid bastards were more interested in the price of their preferential shares instead of worrying how the company could keep the workforce busy at a time when so many of their potential clients were cancelling jobs left right centre.

After a morning like that, even the hundreds of tourists milling around the Albert Dock hadn’t spoilt Max’s pleasure of being back in Liverpool again. With the sun warming his old bones he felt content as he had sat outside one of the trendy bars that fringed the dock ,sipping a cold beer and watching the cormorants dive into the still water.

‘Max, what are you doing, why don’t you open your eyes?’

It too hard, he thought to himself, it’s easier just to lie here.

‘Come on my love, it’s not your time yet, you’ve got to try and wake up.’

Rosie always made sense, even when times had been tough for them; it was Rosie who pulled them through. Max knew that he hadn’t always been the best father to young John; he should have made more time to be with him when he was growing up but his darling Rosie had made sure that his son knew that everything Max did was for them, for the family.

The first time he saw his beautiful Rosie he knew that she was the only girl he would ever love. With her flame red hair and her porcelain white skin she captured heart in a way that he never believed possible. Their love was complete, enduring, all consuming.

‘Max my love please, please, open you eyes.’

As the sounds of the ward grew fainter, Max started to drift further and further back to a time, an another warm and gentle time, when he could run all day and never feel tired, when his skin would be tanned by the warm summer sun, when life was sweet and his future was a story still to be told.

Running through the forest, Max realised that he was happy to be back; it had been so long since he had felt this carefree. As he ran, he marvelled at the breeze blowing through his sun bleached hair. Glancing down he saw that his feet were bare and even though he was running through last autumn’s dry leaves they felt as soft as if he was running on the finest carpet. He knew that he should get home before it nightfall. His Mother worried about her youngest son if he was away from the farm after dark these days. She kept telling him that it wasn’t safe, but even with all the talk of war Max knew that he had nothing to worry about, not even the Nazi’s would be brave enough to invade Poland, not when his big brothers joined the Army, Marek and Pawel were more than a match for any man. Even so, it didn’t do to upset Matka, she might be probably the tiniest woman in the world, he laughed to himself, but you didn’t want to see her when she was angry, not even his great bear of Father would dare to cross her, in their family her temper was legendary.

Chapter 1,1

2009-03-10T17:23:00.001Z

Today of all days he couldn’t afford to be late leaving work. With the noise of the hectic A&E Dept still ringing in his ears and the adrenalin of one too many cups of lukewarm coffee cursing through his veins, SHO Dominik Napier was determined that he would be at the hotel in plenty of time to meet his Grandfather.

Dom had been looking forward to this weekend ever since his Grandpa had phoned to say that he was coming up to Liverpool and not even the sound of yet another ambulance pulling up outside was enough to stop him rushing to the Doctors’ room to change from his scrubs.

When Dom was a little boy, Max loved to tell his only Grandson tales of his childhood growing up on the family farm outside Warsaw The hot endless summers spent playing in the woods with his big brothers and the cold winter nights huddled around the fire listening to his Mother playing the piano. Dom would listen and long for the day when he was old enough to visit his Grandpa’s homeland, never realising that it wasn’t only people who were casualties of war, whole countries suffered too.

As he pulled his holdall out of his locker Dom was startled when the Sister in charge of A&E came crashing through the door.

‘Dom, thank God you haven’t left yet, we’ve an emergency just arrived.’

‘ Not tonight’ he groaned ‘where’s Cathy? You know I wanted to get away on time.’

‘Cathy has been called down to ITU. Come on Dom there’s nobody else; do you want this old bugger to die?’

‘As you asked so nicely Sister how can I refuse’ said Dom putting his stethoscope back around his neck. ‘Where is he?’

Reluctantly following the Sister into the end cubicle Dom looked at horror at the old man lying on the trolley. His face was the colour of wax and the telltale droop to his mouth indicated that this poor old chap had suffered a massive stroke. Dom gently took hold of old man’s hand as he looked up at the nurse and said.

‘Can you call Mr Grogan down please; I think that my Grandfather needs some help here.’

‘Oh Dom I’m so sorry I didn’t realise, I just thought he was some old chap.’

‘Well you weren’t wrong Sister, he is some old chap, it’s just that he happens to be my old chap.’ Said Dom turning to hide the tears that he knew were well up in his eyes.

Mind Mapping

2009-03-09T14:20:00.006Z

I couldn't believe it when I heard that there was a new online Mind Mapping website, www.mindmeister.com. This just the thing I have been looking for so that you can see how I scribble away trying to make some kind of order out of all my ideas. As you know I have wasted more hours than I care to mention trying other formats, so I was thrilled when I found that by embedding a little bit of code I could attach this map for your perusal.

There are a couple of things I should explain before you scroll down to it though. To be able to see the whole map you will need to click and hold on the image and then move the cursor up, down etc to navigate around it, or you could use the magnifying glasses at the bottom left of the map to zoom in and out. Also behind the main ideas (those in bold) I have attached notes and you will need to hover your cursor over the idea to revel them.

I hope that this all makes sense but if you have any questions regarding the mapping please don't hesitate in getting in touch.

(PS you can also find me now on Twitter - catch the link on the right hand side of the screen - you might have to scroll down a little)

Mind Mapping

2009-03-09T14:18:00.000Z

Procrastination

2009-03-04T15:32:00.003Z

OK it's time to be honest with you - I have been making every excuse under the sun not to get on with writing the novel. Everything from 'the dogs need walking' to 'I've got to go down to London' to 'we're having the kids home for the weekend and I need to cook the fatted calf' but the truth is all am doing is procrastinating - well that and writing something that is just fun and rather silly and didn't need any planning or research or even very much thought.

So what does all this mean? It means that I'm a bad person and I'm sorry and I promise that I will give myself a good talking to and you can expect to see the fruits of my labours very soon.

In the meantime would you like to see how I wasted my time?

The Water Tower

Chapter 1

Harry pushed back the covers and gingerly swung his legs out of the bed. Maybe that late night run along the waterfront hadn't been such a good idea. Too many hours sitting in the office was beginning to take it's toll on his once honed physique. Padding through to the lounge Harry threw back the drapes and marvelled yet again at the spectacular view across the Mersey to the Silver Jubilee Bridge. Since the new Mersey Gateway Bridge opened the old bridge was now a mecca for the early morning joggers and cyclists taking advantage of the lack of traffic and the warm summer sun.

Harry's morning routine was always the same, fresh coffee made with his own blend of rich aromatic beans before his shower and then a healthy breakfast of freshly squeezed juice and two slices of wholemeal toast. Harry liked routine at home. His apartment in The Deck complex suited his personality, functional, trendy and floor to ceiling widows bathing the small apartment in sunshine.

After dressing carefully in his bottle green uniform, Harry tidied his bed and put his breakfast dishes into the waiting dishwasher. Satisfied that everything was in order he locked the front door and made his way to the underground car park. At this time in the morning he rarely saw any of his neighbours, he knew that most of them were City workers and wouldn't have to leave for work for another hour to catching the high speed links to Liverpool and Manchester. This suited Harry, he didn't like conversation this early in the morning, at least not until he was at work and even then only when necessary.

Unlocking his small white van Harry smiled yet again at the Dog Catcher legend on the side panel, the boss really did of a sense of humour he thought, and in their business they needed one. As usual the traffic was light along the four lane Expressway. Since the era of the Credit Crunch people were reluctant to make too many car journeys, high fuel prices mean fewer journeys as the Ministry of Information adverts sang out night after night on the TV, conserve fuel share your journey, all we need is 'bath with a friend' and we will have gone full circle back to the 1970's he laughed to himself.

Turning off the Expressway Harry made his way down the quiet suburban streets to his office at the Water Tower. If any of the local residents wondered why Halton's Dog Catchers were based at the Norton Water Tower they were far too polite to ask.

When all the social housing in Windmill Hill had been replaced by the new executive gated communities a lot of the old community spirit had been replaced by a new feeling of place. Not so much community more a sense of I'm all right Jack, good jobs, nice houses and a Government that was living up to it's post Crunch promise of being there for the people, the chosen people, the New Middle Class or Nimcs as they had been labeled by the press. No longer would the affluent Nimcs have to share their space with the unemployed or low wage earners, the new social housing bill had seen to that and the North West Regional Assembly had designated North Warrington as the Social Housing area for the region. Everyone agreed that they were better off all in one place, it made sense, well at least to the Nimcs.

Harry parked his van in front of the stone cottage next to the Water Tower and placing the third finger of his left hand against print recognition panel on the front door, went inside. Theprevious residents of the cottage had long gone, replaced by a secure high speed lift down to the fortified sub basement level. Outside the lift Harry slipped off his green sweatshirt and replaced it with the freshly laundered white coverall that was ready waiting for him in his locker.

As he punched today's code into the security panel the airlock door hissed open and Harry walked down the corridor to his office under the Water Tower.

'Anything interesting in last night's log?'

Sally glanced over from her monitor 'Just two messages from control about the new Mexican oil reserves.'

'Has the Dow Jones started reacting yet?'

'Yes and the White House is looking at ways to 'help' the Mexican President with his expansion plans. Do you think that the Americans will ever learn that their expertise is worth jack shit these days?'

'Control calculates that it will take at least another generation.' laughed Harry as he settled himself at his work station and logged on. 'Unless one of the new post-crunch nations decides that they should be taught a lesson in humility'

to be continued (or maybe not)

Unblocked

2009-02-17T13:05:00.004Z

For days now I have been in a literary no mans land.

No matter how hard I tried and believe me, I have been beating myself up about this, I haven't been happy with the dozens of 'first attempts' that have ended up in the bin. Nothing was gelling, everything I tried seemed either too contrived, too wordy, far too confusing or just plain rubbish. I've been getting more and more disheartened and last week I was seriously considering putting all the research away in a locked cupboard so that I could move on from it.

Then last night everything changed.

There I was sitting watching the TV and it came to me, it was like one of those eureka moments, I'd finally realised how to start the novel.

'That's it' I shouted to the dogs who were sprawled across the settees.

'I'm going to have Max's grandson investigate his grandfather a la 'Who Do They Think They Are'.

It will still be Max's story but now with the twist that it is through Dom's investigations that the story will unfold.

I feel as if a weight has been lifted and I now feel able to start writing.

And what do the dogs think about it? well not a lot, but they were impressed when I celebrated by putting the kettle on and dishing out the Bonios (those damn biscuits are just too dry without a cuppa!)

Writers Block

2009-02-12T13:49:00.002Z

If I'd been using a typewriter today rather than a computer, I would now have a waste basket full of scrumpled up paper.

I've tried so many times to get started it's untrue. I just can't get the first paragraph down on paper. All the planning is done, the research is stored and the ideas are flowing so what's wrong with me, why can't I get started on the actual writing. This block has now lasted two days. I find so many other things to do rather than sit in front of the computer with a blank word document open in front of me. So far this week I have wasted hours on Twitter, sorted through old photos making Web Albums to send to my family and have walked the legs off the poor dogs. In fact the only thing I haven't done is reseed the lawn and that's only because the ground's been frozen.

So what now, do I put this novel and all the many hours I've spent on research, on a metaphorical shelf and leave it until some far off distant day when I feel more confident about starting it again?

Should I try and write something new, something easier like Spanish Steps, after all that was fun to write and the mad plot lines and even madder characters just seemed to pop into my head - and not always after consuming large amounts of alcohol!

Or should I have another bash at it and just sit here until the creative juices start flowing again?

Bugger , bugger, bugger.......about the only thing I don't feel guilty about at the moment is that at least I haven't used up half a forest getting precisely nowhere!

I miss my Mum and Dad

2009-01-30T12:19:00.004Z

I wish that I had listen more to my Mum and Dad when they were talking about the war. I wish they were still here so that I could ask them one of the thousands of questions about Liverpool in the post war years that they would have been able to answer in the blink of an eye.

I wasn't a bad daughter and I loved to hear their reminiscences but I didn't ask enough questions, though mind you I didn't know that some years down the line I was going to have a stab at writing a book.

It's the little things that are the hardest to find out, when did the the milkman start delivering milk in bottles rather than from a large churn on the back of a cart? When the NHS was born did it mean from day one that you had access to a free GP or did you still have to pay to see your old one until new doctors had been trained up? What was the name of the perm solution you used (Twink rings a bell) and was it available during the war? Did 'nice' girls use gravy browning on their legs when they couldn't get stockings or was that just the floosies?

I've found some videos on YouTube of Liverpool in the 1950's and London in the swinging 60's that give a real flavour of the time. If you fancy looking at them you can find the links in the Research section at the bottom of this page - happy viewing...BUGGER - I must have been more addled than I thought the other night when was trawling YouTube - just realised that I haven't saved the links in Research - Sod it, it looks like I'll have start all over again!

Try the ONS.....

2009-01-26T14:50:00.004Z

Do you remember I was trying to find out if Max would have needed a passport or some other form of identity papers to get a marriage licence in the 1940's, well here is the definitive answer from the ONS (that's The Office of National Statistics to you and me) - and all it took was one email -

I am writing in response to your recent email in which you enquire about
giving notice in the second world war. For the purposes of taking a notice
of marriage in the 1930's and 1940's the Superintendent Registrar had to be
satisfied that the information supplied by each person was correct.
However, I can confirm that there was no legislation that required
documentary evidence to be supplied to support the information given.

I am afraid I cannot advise on the requirements of a refugee to be allowed
to enter the United Kingdom during the second world war. Perhaps the
National Archives, or the Red Cross may be able to help.

Yours sincerely

Marriages and Civil Partnerships Casework Manager

I just love this country!!

Where do I go for help?

2009-01-22T14:32:00.002Z

I'm stuck - I have Max in Liverpool, he's fallen for Rosie and wants to marry her but how does he do that without his passport? I suppose I could have him 'borrow' a friends documents which would ultimately have him living a lie - or maybe the authorities would have accepted his identity papers? After all he did get into the country on them and for a while was training with the Army at Aintree Racecourse so maybe they would have issued him with suitable papers? So many questions - who do I ask - well in the first instance The General Registry Office -

This may sound a strange request but I am trying to find out if during the second world war a foreign national would need to produce their passport before getting a special marriage license.

I'm currently researching for my first novel which is partly set in Liverpool in WW2. My main character (Max) is a refugee from Poland who falls in love with a Liverpool girl and wants to marry her. Sorry, this makes it sound a bit drippy and honestly it's not. If you liked to see a rather more detailed synopsis please feel free to look at my website http://joyce-writingmyfirstnovelonline.blogspot.com/

My problem is I can't see that Max would have had a passport but to be able to cross occupied Europe and get on a ship leaving the Spanish/French border he would probably have had identity papers. Would these papers have been good enough to get him into the UK in the first place? (There really were 2 Polish ships that left St Jean de Luz in 1940 with 1000's of refugees that sailed to the UK)

I'm sorry there are so many questions and can appreciate that this mightn't be your area but I would be very grateful if you could at least point me in the right direction as to which organisation might be able to help.

Kind regards

Joyce

Look what I've been up to

2009-01-14T15:29:00.003Z

As I've already told you, before I start writing properly I've decided to develop my plot lines, I loved doing this for Spanish Steps, it's a bit like scribbling down all your thoughts and then, rather like a jigsaw puzzle, organising them into a cohesive whole.

At the moment I am surrounded by sheets of paper full of ideas, for example on one sheet I have written 'Max talks to Rosie' and from that thought the following ideas grow

Rosie's dialogue to be in italics which will hopefully imply that it's not quite an ordinary conversation.
when will it be obvious to the reader that Rosie is dead? i don't want to hit them with it on the first page.
should I have all Max's conversations with the woman fro his past in italics or just those with Rosie?
Will he have conversations with the other woman from his life in the same way e.g his Mother? No I think that before his stroke he will only speak to Rosie. After the stroke he will be reliving the past so the italics will be unnecessary.
without being mawkish the conversations with Rosie must show that their love is still alive
should Rosie be a timid little thing or a feisty redhead?
probably go with feisty but must make sure that she doesn't become a harridan

So do you get the idea? Character development and plot lines are so much fun to write. This is where I can try things out before committing them to paper, so to speak. The characters can spout rubbish, the story can go off on a thousand tangents but when I gather all the notes together and get to work with the highlighter pen then I will hopefully be able to start writing without loosing my way too often. Well that's the theory anyhow.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

2009-01-06T13:58:00.003Z

Now that the Christmas holidays are all but a distant memory, it's time to put my head down and get on with some serious work.

I think I've decided which format to write in, but I'm going to leave you guessing which one just a little longer because I am now doing something that I thought that wouldn't need to do, I'm taking the time to hand write a plotline/storyboard.

I'd really wanted to put all my ideas down in this blog, but to be honest with you, I still enjoy scribbling away in pencil on large sheets of paper so that I can decorate the walls with my thoughts ( now that's a frightening prospect!) but as soon as I get the memory card back for my camera, long story... we bought Lesley a new camera for Christmas but forgot to get her a memory card, so I lent her mine so that she could take some pictures on Christmas day but she forgot to take it to the party hence no family Christmas pictures of 2008... I will take some photos of my scribblings and post them here so that you can see that I'm not cheating and that I'm really sharing everything with you.

One thing I will own up to is that for the past two weeks I haven't put pen to paper. I could make all sorts of excuses and say that the preparations for Christmas and having the family home meant that I just didn't have time to indulge in writing (and yes I still think of writing as a guilty pleasure) but the truth is that I'm probably just lazy. Not lazy in the sense that I have been sitting around doing nothing all day, but too lazy to schedule my day such that I could spend even the odd hour working on the story. I find it far easier to make excuses to myself why I shouldn't be working rather than spend that time actually producing something. What can I tell you, I'm a bad person but I did have a lot of fun making paper snowflakes, fancy Christmas wreaths and lots of nice things for my family to eat so maybe I'm not all bad!

Three Versions - Decisions

2008-12-01T14:23:00.003Z

OK there they are - three versions of the same story - it will always be the same story, it will always be Max's story but how to tell it.

As I've already said I'm not happy with version 1, it just doesn't do it for me. if I picked a book up with an opening like that I'm not sure that I would bother reading on.

So try again - version 2 (which mightn't have quite come out in the short excerpt below) will have Max 'hearing' Rosie and later his Mother and Sister talking to him. I want the reader to slowly realise that the conversations are only on his head - all the woman he loved are dead but his love for them isn't - he can bring Rosie back when ever he talks to her and later his Mother and Sister will come to him when he is least expecting them - wow might be tricky to write without being mawkish but it could be worth it.

And version 3 is basically version 2 but written in the first person. Max will be able to tell his story in his own words but I really like the ghost talking aspect in version 2 and would like Max to have the same conversations.

Pros and Cons

Version 1 is a non starter in my book

Version 2 could potentially be easier to write than version 3. I find wrtiting in the first person tricky, if I'm not careful it could sound more like me rather than Max talking

Version 3 would writing in the first person be too limiting? I need to be able to show Max as a multi-dimensional character; the frightened young boy in Poland, the angry young man who arrives in Liverpool swearing that no one will ever hurt him again even if it means he hurts them first, the family man who adores his wife and son, the ruthless business man who won't let anything stop him from making his business succeed and finally the old man who finds to his horror that he is having to relive his past.

So that's it; first person or third person - I think I need a cup of coffee and time to ponder - any comments will be gratefully recieved.

Chapter 1 Version 3 (how does it look written in the first person)

2008-12-01T14:19:00.002Z

Nearly ready to go now Rosie, Jim has put the bags in the Daimler and Dom is just finishing his breakfast. I wish that John and Laura had been coming with us, I know that you wanted this to be a family trip back up to Liverpool to see it in it’s year as European Capital of Culture but you know what John’s like, work will always come first. I know, just like his father but even I made time for my family.

Do you remember when he was little and we took John away to that cottage in Wales? His little eyes lit up when he found that there were sheep grazing in the garden and do you remember when we took him to Formby for the first time and he felt the soft sand between his toes? Oh Rosie where have all the years gone? When did I get to be an old man, it’s still a shock when I look in the mirror, it’s like I’m looking at my Father.

I hope that Dom has a good time this weekend. I’ve tried to arrange everything just the way you wanted it. I’ve booked us a couple of suites at that new hotel in Castle Street that you liked so much, I even managed to reserve one of their private dining rooms for dinner tonight. Joe and Andy are coming and Sylvia is picking up the Carter’s so it will be just like old times. Joe will probably have too much to drink and Sylia will drive every mad with her constant chatter, you would love it of course, you could boast about young Dominic and make him blush.

I couldn’t believe it when he said that he was still coming with me this weekend. There are not many eighteen year olds who would want to spend so much time with their old Grandpa.

Did I tell you that he wants us to take another trip later this year? He wants to see the farm where I grew up and find out about his Polish ancestors. Oh Rosie I don’t know how I’m going to be able to let him down without upsetting him, maybe we’ll have a chance to talk about it this weekend. There are some things that are best left in the past.

Don’t worry about me Rosie I’m not getting maudlin, I’ve promised you that nothing is going to spoil this weekend and I intend keeping my word.

Chapter 1 - Version 2 - better?

2008-12-01T13:11:00.001Z

Are sure you that you’ve packed everything? Did you remember your tablets? You know what you’re like, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on.

Max smiled indulgently as he straightened his tie, dear Rosie always fussing but what would he do without her, she was his rock, his soul mate and still his sweetheart even after all these years. She was the reason he was taking this trip. He had promised her that he would take young Dom on a trip up to Liverpool. The city of her birth, the city she called home.

Rosie had wanted them all to make the pilgrimage up north for Liverpool’s year as The European Capital of Culture, she knew that John would want to find any excuse to stay behind but she was determined that they should all go especially her only son and when Rosie was determined then it took a brave man to cross her.

All his life Max had been surrounded by strong woman, his own dear sweet Mother might have been a tiny lady with mop of hair that refused to stay pinned to her head but she ran their little farm in Poland, no matter what his Father thought. It was she who sold their spare produce in the local market because she knew that her Janusz would end up giving it away to anyone with a sob story. It was Matylda who was in the dairy at 5 o’clock every morning so that her children would have fresh warm milk for breakfast with the smell of freshly baked bread filling her little kitchen to tempt them out of bed on even the coldest morning. And when she was old enough to help, his beautiful sister Anka would organise her brothers making sure they had their books ready for school and that they had finished their chores before hurrying them along the country lanes for the 3 kilometre walk to school. She might have been younger than Marek and Pawel but Max knew that his big brothers would have no sooner argued with Anka then they would with their Mother.

It was different now of course, he hadn’t seen their little farm just outside Warsaw since the day he kissed his Mother and promised her that he would find Anka and bring her home, a promise easily given but harder to keep.

Max you’re daydreaming again, get a move on, Jim’s outside waiting.

It mightn’t be the family trip that Rosie had planned but Max still wanted it to be special. He had planned the whole weekend with his old efficiency. He’d arranged for Jim to drive them in the Daimler, he’d booked 2 suites in the new hotel in Castle Street and had even arranged a small supper party tonight in one of their private dining rooms. Just because it was only to be him and Dom making the trip didn’t mean that Max was going to miss out on entertaining some of their friends from the old days to show off his handsome young grandson.

While Rosie wouldn’t have a bad word said about their only son even she had to admit that as they grew older John seemed to find any excuse not to spend time with them. ‘The curse of youth’ she would tell Max ‘is to forget that your parents were young themselves once’ But John wasn’t going to spoil this weekend with his constant griping, this weekend was going to be special, he owed it to Rosie.

An Early Start

2008-12-01T12:16:00.002Z

Dave caught the earlier flight this morning so it meant a 4.30am wake up call - so there we were at 5am defrosting the car for the drive to Manchester airport, it was freezing -5C would you believe it!

One thing about such an early start that by 12 o'clock I have managed to get the office work done and start the writing. I did however need a bit of inspiration so logged on to Flicker to look at the Liverpool Echo's photos of the city. Fab - just what the doctor ordered - the creative juices are now flowing I'd better get a move on before they freeze up again!

I'm not happy

2008-11-26T12:49:00.004Z

I have been looking at what I've written so far and I'm not happy. It just doesn't look right. The first paragraph of any story should grab you by the shoulders, look deep into your eyes and shout 'read me'. This doesn't, it's more like a slap with a wet fish.

I think that it's back to the drawing board. I might write a variety of openings, written in different styles and then decide which route I want to take. Maybe you could help and vote for the one you like best, that at least would be democratic, but then again I might be an autocratic and just go with the one I feel happiest with.

But before I start writing anything I have to clear up the mess the dogs have made of my address book....they have totally shredded the pages and god alone knows where they have hidden the cover!

My desk is a muddle of half chewed paper, files of hand written notes, various street maps of the East End of London, a Tesco voucher, a bottle of clear nail polish, a tatty camera case (the dogs found this as well) and an empty coffee cup.......is it too early to open a bottle of wine?

I did warn you that there would be rewrites

2008-11-20T16:20:00.004Z

Chapter 1 part1 version 2

The sun was flooding into the large hall as Max made his way down the sweeping staircase. He smiled to himself as he thought of what his dear Rose would have said on a day like this. Max’s heart still ached when he thought of Rose, they had lived their lives as one and now that she was gone, he felt only half alive.

They had shared everything, everything that is except for the business; he had never wanted her to be a part of that. She was too precious to be concerned in that part of his life, no place for a lady, he used to tell her when she asked if she could help him with a problem that was keeping him awake at night, a building site is no place for a lady and his Rose had been the most perfect lady.

Even after all these years by himself all he only needed was to close his eyes to see her. His beautiful Rose with her soft white skin and flame red hair would always be a young woman in his memory, she would never know the indignity of growing old and lonely.

Recognizing the signs of impending melancholy Max straightened his tie and shot the cuffs of his shirt so that his gold cufflinks peeped out from under his jacket. He was determined that nothing was going to spoil this weekend. He had been looking forward to it for weeks. A whole weekend with his favourite Grandson in his favourite city even if it did mean spending the night in his son’s house before it could start.

Max knew that John thought him a silly old bugger always interfering with the business when he should have been living out his days quietly playing his golf and waiting to die. But Max wasn’t ready to go just yet, there were things he had to do before he would be ready to join Rose, things that this weekend might just put right.

‘You’re looking very dapper Pops’

Dear Laura thought Max, what ever had she seen in his arrogant son?

‘Well we old fogies can show these young men a thing or two when it comes to looking smart.’ Max said looking at his grandson who was shovelling down his breakfast cereal.

‘Sorry Grandpa I didn’t realise we were going up to Liverpool to go out on the pull.’ Dom laughed as his grandpa playfully slapped his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry I won’t show you up, I’m on my way up for a quick shower.’

Max loved his young grandson more than he would ever have thought possible. This tall handsome young man with his kind eyes and warm heart might look like his father but thankfully it was his mother’s genes that flowed through his veins.

Chapter 1 - part 1

2008-11-12T16:30:00.005Z

Chapter 1

Even now he only needed to close his eyes to see her. His beautiful Rose with her soft white skin and flame red hair would always be a young woman in his memory, she would never know the indignity of growing old and lonely.

‘You’re looking very dapper Pops’

Dear Laura thought Max, what ever had she seen in his arrogant son?

‘Well we old fogies can show these young men a thing or two when it comes to looking smart.’ Max said looking at grandson who was shovelling down his breakfast cereal.

‘Sorry Grandpa I didn’t realise we were going out on the pull.’ Dom laughed as his grandpa playfully slapped his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry I won’t show you up, I’m on my way up for a quick shower.’

Max loved his young grandson with a depth that he would never have thought possible. This tall handsome young man with his kind eyes and warm heart might look like his father but thankfully it was his mother’s genes that flowed through his veins.

Viva la difference

2008-11-12T10:40:00.005Z

I have a little confession to make. When I went to the Museum in Docklands last week I spent a whole afternoon walking around the Docks in wartime exhibition. Yes I know, Max doesn't get to London until the mid 60's and I was supposed to be researching the building of Canary Wharf but, as is my want, I was off on a tangent again.

So why do I need to know what happened to the Isle of Dogs in WW2 - well I suppose in the grand scheme of things I don't but going around the exhibits made me realise something I have always wondered about - why should I feel such an affinity with the East Londoners that I have met over the years? After all most of the people I met through work in the late 70's thought that anywhere north of Watford was bandit country and that apart from being brave to have moved so far away from home at such a tender age I must also have been incredibly grateful to have been given the chance to live and work 'darn sarf'

So why should I have made so many enduring friendships with some of my old colleagues? I suppose it because if you look at the history of East London and Liverpool you will find more similarities than differences - what do I mean? - well they are both ports (obviously); they have both absorbed great waves of immigration over the years; both profited from the slave trade ( much to their shame); they both had a huge number of poorly paid, badly housed, working class poor; Maggie Thatcher is still vilified by both communities and Hitler tried to bomb the shit out of them.

Location spotting

2008-11-11T16:32:00.005Z

The plot is moving on apace now.

So far I have been researching Poland in the first months of WW2, Liverpool during the Blitz and the post war housing boom and now it's time to look around the East End of London where Max and eventually his young family will move to.

The Museum in Docklands is a great resource but I have been there so often recently that I think the young receptionist is wondering what I'm up to. I have been taking copious notes about the history of the Isle of Dogs and the growth of Docklands as a financial district. I'm planning for Max to strike out on his own and move to the East End of London sometime in the 1960's and the whole timeline for the developments in Docklands will fit really well with the growth of his business empire.

My problem has been where will he live when he moves down, so on Sunday I set off to walk around the looking for likely locations. As I've said before, I have to have a picture in my head before I can put a character in place, I need to be able to see the streets he would have walked, the pubs he would have drunk in and the markets where his wife would have shopped . If you look hard enough you can still find streets in East London that haven't changed much in 100 years. Sure, some of them have been gentrified and are no longer the working class areas they used to be, but with a bit of imagination I'm now sure that Max would have moved down to Limehouse.

I thought that you might like to see some of the picture I took around Brick Lane/Spitalfields and from the window of the 135 bus through Limehouse back to Canary Wharf

Telephone Interview

2008-10-31T15:12:00.003Z

One of the unexpected bonuses of all the research I'm doing is having the opportunity to talk to real people about their war time experiences. When I met with Judith the other day she kindly gave me her Mum's telephone number and suggested that I call her up.

What a lovely lady, we had a long chat about her experiences. At the tender age of eighteen all young people had to report to the old Labour exchange to be assigned war work. Young women in her area were offered either going in to the forces or to go to work in a munitions factory and she opted for munitions work. This was no easy option as it meant getting up at 4.30 in the morning after probably only a couple of hours sleep due to the air raid warnings, then an hour on a bus to start work at 6 o'clock for an eight hour shift making 25 lb bombs!

It was lovely to hear her talking about going to the dances at the American air base at OultonPark and dating the young American Servicemen. Her Mum however wasn't best pleased when she brought one of them home and told her not to bring any more home or she would be 'the talk of the lane'. The poor girl was only being friendly with the highlight of her date being a visit to the local chip shop for some 'french fries' - they really were different times - and even in the middle of a war young girls weren't frightened to walk home from a dance at midnight in the blackout.

As I've discovered from other sources, for a lot of young women the war years were probably the best years of their lives, they were young, they had freedom and money unheard of in the parents' day and for some they had the opportunity to meet young men who they never imagined they would ever get the chance to meet. Let's face it the only Americans most British girls had ever seen before the war were Hollywood movie stars, it's no wonder there were so many GI brides.

Ordinary People

2008-10-30T08:48:00.004Z

I had a very productive day yesterday. I met up with two friends who had lots of stories from their families' war time experiences in Liverpool and Cheshire.

I am constantly amazed at how people who lived through those terrible times stayed stoical and determined to live as 'normally' as possible. I heard about one old lady who would never use the air raid shelters and constantly argued with her family that if she was going to die she wanted to die in her own bed (luckily for her the bombers never managed to find her house) and the story of a young woman who fell in love with an American serviceman but broke off her engagement to him when her Mum sad that she didn't want her daughter moving to America after the war.

I think that it is important to remember that for a lot of ordinary families the deprivations of war, rationing, sub standard housing etc, were not that different to the conditions that the working classes were living in the 1930's . Life was hard but communities made the most of what they had.

Quiet rightly much has been recorded of the lives of the young servicemen who fought in the war but we shouldn't forget that life for young woman at home changed dramatically in the war years. Many relished in the fact because they were now working,they had more money and freedom than ever before. No longer would a young mother be solely reliant on her husband for the money to put food on the table and a young single girl found that the dance halls and even pubs were filled with young servicemen looking for a good time.

Life went on, people went to work, families rowed, kids played out in the street and young girls had their heads turned by a handsome lad with the 'gift of the gab' and all the while terrible atrocities were being committed in the name of war. Lives were being damaged in ways that those of us born long after the war can only imagine in our darkest nightmares.

Everyone who lived through those times whether as an evacuee, a munitions worker or as a young man sent to fight in a war far away from home, would have seen and experienced things that influenced the way they lived their lives long after the war was over.

Many thanks to Judith and Kathy for all their help yesterday and I'm looking froward to speaking to Judith's Mum tomorrow to find out more about her handsome young Yank!

What's in a name?

2008-10-27T16:23:00.001Z

I'm stuck, I know it's daft, I haven't even started writing the flipping thing yet but already I've got a problem - I don't have a working title for the novel. I have been playing around with something that would reflect the fact that it is set around Liverpool in it's year as European Capital of Culture but nothing seemed quite right, especially not the 08 title I gave it for a while.

I'm trying to tell the story of a young man who flees Poland after the German invasion in 1940 and finds himself in Liverpool during the dark days of WW2. His story will cover his reasons for leaving Poland and his new life in Liverpool and London right up to the present day.

Dave has suggested - The lives and deaths of Max Napierkowski - I might stick with this unless you have a better idea....

Introducing some of the main Characters

2008-10-15T10:59:00.000+01:00

Polish names. The old man Maksymilian , his parents, 2 brothers Marek and Pawel and 1 sister Anka Family Name Napierkowski his son John/ Janusz his Grandson Dominic/Dominik

Max Napier is looking forward to his trip to Liverpool to revisit the city of his youth in this its year as European Capital of Culture. He has persuaded his young grandson Dom to join him on the trip but sadly wasn't surprised when his son cried off at the last minute claiming that the business couldn't spare him for the weekend.

John Napier, Max's only son, is the CEO of Napier Construction Ltd and like a lot of successful businessmen he sometimes forgets that if wasn't for his father he wouldn't be where he is today.

Dom is looking forward to spending some time with his Grandpa. Since he was a small boy he has been fascinated by the old man's tales of his early days in Poland and in this his GAP year before starting medical school next year Dom hopes that he will be able to persuade Max to join in on a road trip through Poland to visit his homeland.

Max

2008-10-15T10:29:00.000+01:00

The more that I'm learning about the lives of ordinary people during the war the more I'm realising that there is no such thing as an ordinary person. Everybody has a history, a tale to tell.

I started to plan out this book with the single notion that it is very easy when you're young to look at an old person and not see them. Age makes you invisible.

How many times have you walked through a busy shopping centre and tutted to yourself because your way is blocked by an old lady walking with a zimmer frame? Do you ever stop to think that in her day she may have been a gorgeous young flight attendant working for BOAC who was cut off from her Middle Class family because she fell in love and married a handsome young Egyptian pilot?

No, well you're not alone. All most of us see is somebody in our way, an old dear who is stopping us from getting back to the office in time for our very important meeting, an obstacle to work around.

I want to make the reader stop and think the next time they see an old chap, 'what's his story' and to do this I have to be as factually correct as I possible can be - hence all the research - it would be to do the Max's of this world a huge disservice to make a fundamental historical error - and the more I am getting to know Max the more I am determined to do him proud.

Liverpool

2008-10-15T09:49:00.000+01:00

My research has moved on now to Liverpool during the second world war.

Liverpool suffered the most appalling bomb damage from late 1940 until May 1941 peaking with the seven night May Blitz. The Commander in Chief of the German Navy General Admiral Erich Raeder wanted to destroy Liverpool as he believed that this would effectively cut off Britain from it's supply route via the Atlantic. His plan was to bomb the city to such an extent that the docks would be destroyed and the supply ships from America which were bringing much needed food, fuel, raw materials, weapons and troops into the country would be stopped. His plan would have starved Britain into a surrender. Fortunately Hitler didn't listen to him and even though the city and it's people suffered during the many air attacks they were not on a sufficient scale to close the docks. By the end of the Blitz 69 out of 114 cargo berths had been closed and if the bombing had continued for just a couple of nights more the docks would have been totally destroyed.

I find it incredible to believe that during the May Blitz 681 planes dropped 870 tonnes of explosives and 122,000 fire bombs making 76,000 people homeless and killing 1,700 and none of this was reported in the national press.

Obviously I need to be able to put my characters into an historical context but more importantly I need to know how ordinary people went about their everyday life, going to work during the blackout, trying to feed a family on rations, where do you sleep when your house has been destroyed in an air raid. The National Museum of Liverpool has been a treasure trove of information and their Nuggets of Knowledge website has been good starting point for my research. For example, did you know that during the war there was an Internment Camp in Huyton? The authorities fenced in a council estate and turned it into a temporary holding camp for Germans, Austrian and Italian internees before sending them to the Isle of Man. However in July 1940 a ship deporting the internees was sunk and 682 people died on the Arandora Star, there was a huge public outcry about the deportations and the government were forced to stop the practice. The camp was then to become home to hundreds of internees until the end of the war.

How Other People See Us

2008-10-02T13:07:00.000+01:00

I was sitting here this morning, reading through my research notes and trying to plot out the beginning of the story when there was a knock on the door. Now the only people who ever call during the day are either people trying to sell something or delivery men who want to leave a parcel for a neighbour, so reluctantly tearing myself away from my notes I went to answer the door.

And there, waiting patiently, were two women, sorry, correction, a woman (who I vaguely recognised) and a lady, a very well dressed, beautifully coiffured middle aged lady, who had obviously spent hours getting ready to come out this morning. Her gunmetal hair had been recently styled and her outfit looked like something that Doris Day would have worn if she were a middle aged English woman (if you see what I mean)

I stood transfixed as she started asking me if I worried about what children were looking at on the Internet, the Internet? did this lady even own a computer? well apparently so, because she then told me that when she checked her inbox this morning it was full of adverts from various companies trying to sell her things. She then went on to tell me that we should be careful how our children use the computer and would I like to look at a booklet called 'Awake' that might help...of course, who wouldn't, it could be really useful for when I try and tell my twenty two year old son what not to look at on the interwebby thingy,...and tucked inside 'Awake!' there was a copy of The Watchtower that I might also find helpful. She was so polite, so kind, and so damned smart how could I possibly refuse!

I watched as they walked back down the drive and smiled as I realised that I had been mugged by the god squad, fabulous, here am I trying to write a book about how things are not always what they seem, how we can misjudge people because of the way they look or even presume things about them just because of their age, they're over 60 what can they possibly know about modern technology, and I fall into the same trap.

A lesson well learnt - so much so that I want to start writing now and continue the research alongside. What do you think, can I do it?

(Just a thought but I wonder if she gets any of the adverts that we used to get in work, before they put a better spam filter on the system and if she does can she explain to me whether the man with the tattoo of a snake enjoyed the pain? and has she bought any herbal viagra recently)

Warsaw Ghetto Uprising

2008-09-30T15:44:00.000+01:00

In 1940 the Nazis started forcing Poland's 3 million Jews into a number of Ghettos. The largest of which was in the city of Warsaw which had approximately 400, 000 people packed into a small area in the centre of the town where thousands of Jews died due to disease and starvation.

When the first deportations from the Ghetto began the members of the Jewish resistance movement believed that the people were being sent to labour camps. By the end of 1942 over 300,000 Jews had been sent from the Ghetto to Treblinka.

On January 18th 1943 the Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto launched an uprising against Germany's plans to transport the remaining population to the death camp Treblinka. They killed Nazi collaborators and built dozens of fighting posts. However they had little or no arms and relied on Molotov cocktails and a few old pistols and revolvers.

Support for the uprising outside the Ghetto was limited but Polish Resistance Units and the Polish Communists attacked German sentries and attempted to smuggle weapons into the Ghetto. They didn't stand a chance against a daily force of 2,909 well armed German troops. But they certainly gave them a run for their money and were even successful in halting a German advance on the eve of passover in April 1943.

The Germans replaced the SS Commander with SS-Gruppenfuhrer Stroop who after his calls for surrender were rejected by the Jews began to systematically burn houses in the Ghetto block by block.

Approximately 13,000 Jews were killed during the uprising (6,000 of them either burnt alive or died of smoke inhalation) Most of the remain 50,000 inhabitants were captured and sent to Treblinka.

The Warsaw Uprising

2008-09-30T15:22:00.000+01:00

The Polish Home Army (AK) was a resistance force of 150,000, loyal to the London Based Polish Government in exile. In August 1944 they planned to take the city from the Germans before the Russians arrived.

The Germans sent their crack troops to resist the Russians and crush the uprising.

A quarter of a million civilians died from the shelling, dive bombing and wholesale massacres.

Britain and America sent planes from Italy to drop supplies for the civilian population but with little effect. They couldn't come to the aid of the resistance fighters as Russia by this time had joined the Allies

The AK capitulated on 21/10/44 and the surviving inhabitants were evacuated when Hitler ordered that Warsaw should be 'razed without trace'

Most of the apartment blocks were bombed, shelled or set on fire.

The evacuees were sent to special selection and distribution centres were they were 'sorted' to go to either concentration camps or sent to work in the Polish countryside.

Background

2008-09-30T14:49:00.000+01:00

The Nazis regarded the Poles as non Aryans, a lower race and as such they considered them 2nd class citizens, they were to be denied education and become slaves.

In the words of Dr Robert Ley , a special adviser to Adolf Hitler

"A lower race needs less space, less nourishment and less culture than a higher race"

More than 6 million Poles died in the war but only 1/10th of those were due to the hostilities - the rest were tortured or killed by the Nazis to satisfy their ideals.

The Germans took Warsaw on 14th September 1939 just 2 weeks after the invasion of Poland started.

Germany wanted slave labour to fuel their growing war machine. Polish people were banned from Schools, colleges and Universities, Polish intellectuals were either killed or sent to labour camps. The Germans took over the local newspapers and even designated some buildings as 'Germans Only'

During the rounding up of the Jews many were shot dead in the street - to this day there are still little impromptu altars on the streets of Warsaw at the site of the shootings which list the victims names and date of their death.

Wasting time

2008-09-30T14:24:00.000+01:00

I have wasted so much time trying to find a way to attach my notes and spider charts to the blog that I have decided to just write the research up long hand. I know that this must make me look like a techno dinosaur but if I spent any more time fiddling about with Google gadgets I will probably go mad!!!

I'm still ploughing through all the research material - sorry that made it sound like a chore, it isn't but it does take ages. I never imagined when I started this quite how long it would take, but the more I learn, the more I realise how little I know.

We are talking here about a pivotal period in the history of the world and I'm ashamed to admit how little I know about the second world war and how it impacted on mainland Europe. Not just the politics and the battles but the impact on the lives of ordinary people. It is so hard to imagine how people's lives changed literally overnight. One day they were going about their business, Dad's went of to work in the morning, kid's squabbled with their Mum's before trudging off to school, normal things, everyday trails and tribulations, will we be able to afford a holiday next year? Will granny be able to cope on her own much longer in that big house? Will the trade unions really call a strike at the factory? And then in the time it takes to switch on the radio your whole world is turned upside down.

Russia and Germany have decided to join forces and split up Poland between them. Germany is invading from the West and Russia from the East.

Still researching

2008-09-16T15:01:00.000+01:00

It seems to be taking me an age to read all the information that I have gathered for the novel. It is very tempting to just start writing but I know that if I do that then I would probably go off on a tangent and loose my way.

When I write for Spanish Steps I have HUGE flow charts all over the office wall. Each character has their own chart and then there is the master story board. I find them invaluable when I'm writing and would love to have something similar for 08 but I'm not sure how to do it so that I can share it with you. The only idea that I've come up with so far is to try and set up a flow chart in Microsoft Office and try and attach it to the blog so you can see my random though processes. Sounds like it might work but I'm not sure if I will end up wasting more time with the actual technology involved rather than using these blog posts to write every thing out in longhand. I'm off to have a play in the MS Office suite and I'll let you know how I get on.

2008-09-05T12:30:00.000+01:00

I am learning so much all the time about the history of Poland and the more that I am discovering about the life of ordinary Poles during World War 2 the more my admiration for the young Polish people of today is growing. The country was ravaged by both the Nazis and the Russians during the war and the population was decimated, how incredible then that so many young Poles have embraced citizenship of the European Union today.

Reading reading and yet more reading

2008-09-04T09:28:00.000+01:00

The BBC People's War website is proving an invaluable research tool. I am learning first hand what life was like for the Jewish community in Warsaw during the dark days of the German invasion in 1939.

Unfortunately I am having to make most of my notes in longhand as the dogs aren't at all happy when I try and work upstairs in the office. So for now I am scribbling away in the conservatory but as soon as I get the laptop back I will try and transcribe my notes onto here so you can see what line the research is taking.

Thursday 21st August

2008-08-21T16:08:00.000+01:00

Well I've made a start. I spent all morning scouring the internet for research material and as promised I have put the links at the bottom of the screen.

The next task is to get my head down to some serious reading and then I will probably have to hit the road and get into Liverpool. It might be an idea to try and take some photos of the areas that I will be writing about. I always try to have a picture in my head as I am writing. It might sound daft but when I write the characters are very real to me and I like to have the scene set in my mind before I start with the plot.

I think that I am going to have to go to The Central Library for some of the research as most of the stuff online is only suitable for background notes. The more specific information e.g street maps of Liverpool for the period 1944 to 1970 are not available online.

I am going to try and keep a record of all my notes on this blog - not sure what format they will take yet but a promise is a promise and you will be able to see what direction the research takes and how I manage to build sufficient material for the real writing to start.

Random thoughts for plot and Notes for Research

2008-08-20T15:58:00.001+01:00

Set the scene with an old man sitting in a wheel chair at the Pier Head in Liverpool. It is 2008 and the City is in the middle of celebrating it's year as Capital of Culture.

The old man is accompanied by a carer from the old people's home that he lives in. She is chatting away to him but he isn't responding. She panics when she realises that he has had what looks like a mini stroke.

The rational behind this tale is one of how we are perceived by other people. The old man is treated as just that, an old man, nobody seems to consider that he is a man who has a history far beyond their imaginings.

The man is Polish. He escaped from Poland during WW2 and travelled through Europe before getting on a ship to Liverpool

In Liverpool he starts work for a local builder, falls in love with the bosses daughter - marries her - become the father-in-law's right hand man and eventually takes over the business.

After his wife dies his children find him a very nice nursing home, no expense is spared - but the stroke brings back memories of his time in Poland and Europe that he has kept hidden for over 60 years.

We all see the old man but inside he can only remember being the frightened young boy who had to kill to escape the Nazis. When he first started working for his future father-in-law he was the hard man, the debt collector, the enforcer. I think that this hard man image is pivotal to the plot. He has to be ruthless in business but a gentleman at home. His wife is a lady and he treats her with love and respect. His children grow up with all the trappings of wealth never realising that their father is a ruthless operator with hard men of his own. His family are now very respectable and they don't know what he was like in those post war years. His son has taken over the business and is known as a good honest business man but is intolerant of his father, all he can see is a lonely old man who keeps interfering with the business. A lot of their work in based in London but the old man wanted to come back to Liverpool for the Capital of Culture.

For the story to be credible he would have to have been 15 years old in 1944 when he escaped. That will make him 79 in 2008.

CHANGE OF PLAN

Instead of him living in a nursing home I think that I will have him living alone in London/Surrey in an expensive house. He travels to Liverpool with his favourite grandson for the Capital of Culture and it is the grandson who has to cope dealing with hospitals etc after the stroke when the old man for a while can only speak Polish.

The grandson spends a lot of time with the old man and gradually learns some but not all of the story it is only after the grandfather dies that the grandson finds out the truth. He then faces the dilemma of whether to tell the rest of the family what he has learnt but I think that there could be a very emotional ending when he destroyed the evidence (??) and scatters the pages of his note book(??) in the Mersey on New year's Eve ie the end of 08.

RESEARCH

Polish names. The old man, his parents, 2 brothers and 1 sister
Work out route he would have taken across Europe remembering it was during the last year of the war.
Who does he kill and why
Is he Jewish and if so would he have escaped earlier than 1944 (need to alter his age accordingly - he would have been born in 19290
Street map of Liverpool for 1944
Investigate the post war building plans for the city. Where would the builder have been working and is he just a landlord at first or is he an actual builder
What was the posh area of the city where the father-in-law would have lived
Was there a big Polish community in Liverpool and would our character have found them, maybe through the church?
When was the building boom in London? hopefully our story would move on to there in the 1970s. It would be grand if the family were also involved in the development of Canary Wharf
Where would he have found a ship bound for Liverpool and under what circumstances would he have been either given a job on it or stowed away on it.
How were Polish names anglicized?
When did the kinder ships leave Nazi Germany and did any Jewish refugee children end up in Liverpool?
Get A-Z's of London and Liverpool
Read up on Polish resistance fighters