Silly Willie, on #LisaBurtonRadio

Welcome to this week’s edition of Lisa Burton Radio. The only show that interviews the characters from books you love. I’m your host, Lisa the robot girl, and today, my special guest is Cautious Craig, who recently took a vacation to Cape Town, South Africa. “Welcome to the show, Craig. You look so smart in your suit and tie but what is that funny noise and what are you sitting on?”

“Hi Lisa, thank you for having me over for a visit. I chose this tie myself. Dad said I shouldn’t get the one with aeroplanes all over it but I really like aeroplanes, especially after our holiday to Cape Town. Mom made me bring Willy with me for the interview. Willy is only three years old and he is very naughty and spoils everything. I am sitting on him and have my hand over his mouth so that he can’t spoil this interview.”

“Maybe you should let him sit up. Our listeners won’t like that funny snuffling noise and Willy might suffocate.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Willy has asthma so I better let him up. Mom is waiting outside the door and I don’t want her to come in and shout at me.”

“BWAAAAAA! Craig sat on me. BWAAAAAA!”

“Please don’t cry Willy. It makes terrible feedback over my microphone. I’ll give you a sweet if you stop.”

“Okay fanks. I have my own biscuits. Can I eat one on your chair?”

“Sure. Okay guys, let’s get on with this interview, shall we? You said you went on a vacation to Cape Town, Craig? Tell me about it.”

“We went on a holiday to Cape Town and it was wonderful. Cape Town is in South Africa.”

“We went to another country.”

“No, Willy, Cape Town is in South Africa. We live in Johannesburg. It isn’t another country.”

“It is too. We went on an aeroplane. So it must be another country. BWAAAAAA! Craig kicked me!”

“Craig, please don’t kick your brother. Willy, have another biscuit. So, you went on an airplane. Was that fun?”

“Oh yes, it was great. Do you know they have funny toilets with no water on an aeroplane? There are also little tiny basins with taps that you press to make the water come. We went to the toilet five times and Willy made a big mess.”

“Did not. I was just washing my hands.”

“He did too. He used up all the soap and lots of it went on the floor and all over the basin. He also splashed water everywhere. Mom got so cross that she made Dad take us to the toilet the last time. We also had lunch on the aeroplane. It was disgusting.”

“Yucky! I didn’t eat mine. I put it in Mom’s handbag.”

“Um, yeah, how did your mother like that little surprise?”

“Mom was very cross. The sandwich was all squashy and butter went all over her keys, hairbrush and make-up. She is never going to let us have the aeroplane lunch again. Luckily, Mom had packed biltong and biscuits so we didn’t starve. Willy, spilled his juice all over the place. Willy is so silly. Mom made me give him some of mine. It is so unfair. I always have to share.”

“It’s good to share, Craig. Willy is just a baby.”

“BWAAAAAA!!!! Lisa called me a baby!”

“Um, I mean a big boy of three years old. Have another biscuit. Right, let’s move this interview along. Where did you stay in Cape Town, Craig?”

“We stayed in an apartment in Camps Bay. Dad loves it there. It is very windy. The wind almost knocked Willy and me off our feet. I didn’t like that. It whistles all around the windows and the trees in the garden are all bent over. Granddad says that when you go to Cape Town you have to put extra lead in the car’s tyres so it doesn’t blow away. I looked at the tyres but they looked the same as the ones on our Joburg car.”

“That sounds really nice. Did the apartment have a nice view?”

“Oh yes, the view was lovely. We could see the ocean stretching right out to the sky. Did you know there is a dark line where they meet? We saw lots of huge ships waiting to go into the harbour and also paragliders and surfers. It was very nice at the apartment even if the pictures were weird blue and silver blobs. Dad says we can never go there again.”

“Never! You just said it was a nice apartment. Why won’t you go there again?”

“Dad said Willy and I are hooligans. He said that we damaged stuff in the apartment. It is very unfair. I get blamed for everything. Willy pulled the curtains down by trying to climb up them like a monkey. I did burst the cushions in the bedroom, but jumping onto them from the top bunk bed was so much fun. Oh, and we also broke the string on the blinds and Willy sawed a hole in the balcony wall. That wasn’t my fault though. It was Mom’s.”

“Ummm, I can see why your Dad was a bit upset. Why was it your Mom’s fault that Willy sawed a hole in the balcony wall? Actually, how on earth did a three year old manage to do that?”

“It was Mom’s fault because she let Willy bring his tools. He has a whole collection of plastic tools.”

“I have a saw and a hammer.”

“It was the saw that caused the damage. While Mom was unpacking, Willy sat the whole time sawing at the same place in the wall with his plastic saw. I was really surprised when I saw he had made a hole and Mom was horrified.”

“Yeah, I can believe you two causing a little trouble. We’re running out of time and you haven’t told me anything about your vacation yet. What did you enjoy the most in Cape Town?”

“I like the beach. It was really awesome but the water at Camps Bay is really cold. It is the Atlantic Ocean. I learned that at school. I did get dumped by the sea and I nearly drowned but I liked everything else. The sea in Cape Town is very powerful. Mom also helped us to build a pirate island in the sand. It was very good and the other children on the beach all came to help. Mom also showed us how to make an aeroplane out of sand. It was so big we could sit in it and pretend to fly it.”

“I love aeroplanes. My ice cream fell in the sand and I cried.”

“You know, I can believe that. What did you like about Cape Town, Willy?”

“There was a fire on the mountain… and a helicopter came… it had a big bucket underneath it… it dumped sea water on the fire.”

“That was amazing! There were lots of firemen all trying to stop the fire from spreading. We were traveling in the car when we saw the fire. It was a big fire and it was jumping from tree to tree and all the small plants and grass were burning.”

“I want a fireman’s hat!”

“You always want everything, Willy. You are so spoilt!”

“BWAAAAA! Craig called me spoilt!”

“Okay boys, that about wraps it up. I’ll call in your Mom to take you both away. Thanks for listening folks. I’m just going to start wiping up these cookie crumbs and fingerprints.

“If you’d like to read more about Cautious Craig and Willie, check out the books by Robbie Cheadle. I’ll post all the details on the website. Don’t forget, the books have recipes in them too.

“Don’t forget to hit those sharing buttons on your way out. Robbie and Craig will both appreciate it, and they’d do it for you when your character appears on the next Lisa burton Radio.”

***

Blurb: When the George family go on holiday to Cape Town, Cautious Craig cannot believe what he has to endure at the hands of his naughty and wilful younger brother, Silly Willy.

 

Willy throws tantrums at the most embarrassing and inappropriate times, causes a commotion on the aeroplane and tries to steal a chameleon from Butterfly World. What is a poor older brother expected to do in these situations?

 

Silly Willy goes to Cape Town – available in early July 2017

 

***

 

Robbie Cheadle was born in London in the United Kingdom. Her father died when she was three months old and her mother immigrated to South Africa with her tiny baby girl. Robbie has lived in Johannesburg, George and Cape Town in South Africa and attended fourteen different schools. This gave her lots of opportunities to meet new people and learn lots of social skills as she was frequently “the new girl”.

Robbie is a qualified Chartered Accountant and specialises in corporate finance with a specific interest in listed entities and stock markets. Robbie has written a number of publications on listing equities and debt instruments in Africa and foreign direct investment into Africa.

Robbie is married to Terence Cheadle and they have two lovely boys, Gregory and Michael. Michael (aged 11) is the co-author of the Sir Chocolate series of books and attends school in Johannesburg. Gregory (aged 14) is an avid reader and assists Robbie and Michael with filming and editing their YouTube videos and editing their books.

Robbie is also the author of the new Silly Willy series the first of which, Silly Willy goes to Cape Town, will be available in early July 2017.

You can connect with Robbie at the following locations:

Blog

Goodreads

Google+

Facebook

Twitter

Purchase Robbie and Michael Cheadle’s Books from:

https://www.amazon.com/author/robbiecheadle

***

Sir Chocolate and the strawberry cream berries story and cookbook:

Sir Chocolate and Lady Sweet live in Chocolate land where you can eat absolutely everything. Join them on a fantastic adventure to find the amazing strawberry cream berry and learn how to make some of their scrumptious recipes at the same time.

Sir Chocolate and the baby cookie monster story and cookbook:

Sir Chocolate and Lady Sweet find a lost baby cookie monster. Join them on an adventure to return the baby to its mother and learn how to make some of their delicious recipes at the same time.

Sir Chocolate and the sugar dough bees story and cookbook:

A greedy snail damages the flower fields and the fondant bees are in danger of starving. Join Sir Chocolate on an adventure to find the fruit drop fairies who have magic healing powers and discover how to make some of his favourite foods on the way.

Purchase Link The first three Sir Chocolate Books are currently available at a discounted price in hard copy and as ebooks.

Amie in Africa visits Lisa Burton Radio

Today is Thursday, and that means it's time for another edition of Lisa Burton Radio. I'm your host, Lisa the robot girl, and my very special guest today is Amie Fish. “Welcome to the show, Amie.”

“I’m really pleased to be on the show Lisa thank you for asking me.”

“So what possesses a newlywed to uproot and move half-way around the world to darkest Africa?”

“I didn’t have a choice, Lisa. My newly married husband was offered a job in Togodo and it was expected that I go with him. I wasn’t looking forward to it, not one little bit. I had a good job in a local television production company and my family lived in the same town. I was quite happy as I was.”

“My bio says you got a little bored, and went to work using your journalism skills for an Army Colonel. What kind of reporting did you do?”

“Let’s backtrack a bit here. I was most certainly not bored. There was plenty going on at the Expats club, and I helped out at a local orphanage as well. And then we went to stay at a game lodge and the owner there taught us so much about the wild life and how the Bushman survived, and the wild plants you could eat and where to find water. It was all so fascinating. I think it was then that I fell in love with Africa.”

“Well it does say here you were blackmailed? Tell us about the blackmail. “

“This colonel just pitched up at my door one morning and asked me to film some projects for him. I didn’t want to, in Africa you steer clear of getting involved in anything with the authorities. But he hinted that Jonathon, my husband, would not be allowed to work and … well, as you can see I felt I had no choice. And the awful part about it – these projects were pure propaganda, there was no truth in any of the projects he asked me to show about their work uplifting the local community. Then, to make matters even worse I was asked to film the result of an ambush, and that was just awful. I did it twice and then made a firm decision not to do any more for him, no matter what the consequences were.”

“Good for you, standing up for what you believe in. What led to you take this stand?”

“It’s dangerous getting involved with politics when you’re a guest in a country, and by then I had fostered a child and I didn’t want any harm to come to her. I was hoping that maybe I could even possibly adopt her?”

“So what did you do?”

“Before I had a chance to refuse to work for the colonel again, the civil war broke out and I was flung in prison. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I managed to escape but the only way I could get to safety was to walk to the neighbouring country. I then had to remember everything I had learned about surviving in the wild.”

“It all sounds exciting, and dangerous. What did you–“

“Sorry, Lisa, I just can't. It's time for me to take another stand. That Clarke woman put me through hell… I can’t begin to list the things – torture, prison, a firing squad, escaping lions, more than once. You know she may have lived in Africa for decades, but I don’t think she had to endure the horrors she put me through. She’s now writing book four and I have to put a stop to it. And did I mention how many people she kills off just by tapping a few keys on her laptop? So now I’m seeking an injunction to keep Lucinda E Clarke from writing any more Amie stories, enough is enough.”

“I get it. Fictional characters have it tough. I got shot, electrocuted, and lost a couple of friends, as in dead, in the course of my story.”

“Well I'm not going to take it any longer. I’m looking into crowd funding, I’m mentioning it in the blogs and newsletters and I’ve already got a high end lawyer in London to serve her a warning. This interview is a great chance to get as much support as I can. There must be thousands of other fictional characters out there who are prepared to stand up to their authors, this is just the beginning of the revolution.”

“Amie, I think this might be a first. A fictional character suing her author. It looks like we have a caller. Hello, caller, you're on the air with Lisa and Amie.”

“Good morning Lisa, I’m Lucinda E Clarke, and I’d like you to terminate this interview immediately. It’s grossly inaccurate.”

“I have only spoken the truth, you did throw me in prison, you deliberately let me poison myself, you left me defenseless and alone.”

“You’re still alive aren’t you? I got you out of it all–“

“You didn’t have to put me in those situations in the first place. When you started writing about me I thought the books about me were going to be cosy and romantic and having babies and–“

“I gave you a more exciting life than that!”

“Oh sure you did, but you never consulted me did you? Well you’ve gone too far this time, especially the shock at the beginning of book 3 that was the final straw.”

“You had a new career waiting for you–“

“Yes, one I didn’t ask for and one I hate.”

“It’s obvious you are not going to listen to reason – while you are busy suing me, I can see that I have a radio show to counter sue and I shall have a restraining and gagging order on you.”

<click>

“What a controversy. Thank you for agreeing to be on the show, Amie. Listeners who want to learn more about Amie's plight can pick up the ‘Amie in Africa’ series. I'll include all the links on the website.”

“Well thank you for listening to me Lisa, at least there is one person who understands. Lucinda doesn’t care, it’s just good to have one shoulder to cry on, even if you are a robot.”

“So how about it, listeners? Which side of this controversy are you on? Should authors go easier on their characters, or should the characters just buck-up and take it? Let's hear it in the comments.

“And don't forget to use those sharing buttons. I know Amie and Lucinda would appreciate it, and you will too when your character is on a future edition of Lisa Burton Radio. Have a great day everyone.”

***

Purchase Links:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LWFIO5K

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B015CI29O4

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M67NRG4

Lucinda E. Clarke Bio:

Abandoned in the African bush with a 9 week old baby and no resources Lucinda could look back on a childhood of mental abuse, without knowing that before her lay an even more bizarre future. She would run the worst riding school in the world, broadcast live with a bayonet at her throat, be fired from her teaching position and thrown into the media world. She would learn how to lie in the name of propaganda, write about dozens of topics for a variety of clients and have her own newspaper column. She would meet kings and statesmen, international artists and rural Africans. She would win several awards along the way for her scripting and films. Eventually she would reluctantly leave Africa to retire in Spain. A few months later she would begin writing books – six to date in a variety of genres – and start a whole new career.

Follow Lucinda at the following locations:

Blog Amazon UK Goodreads Google+ Pinterest LinkedIn Twitter YouTube Facebook

 

African Me & Satellite TV, on Lisa Burton Radio

Today on Lisa Burton Radio, we’re on the phone with Princess Sithole, all the way from Zimbabwe. I’m your host, Lisa the robot girl. “Welcome Princess.”

“Thank you Madam Lisa! Mangwanani – although that is good morning in Shona. Is it morning with you?”

“Yes, but I think you’re a day ahead of me. My bio says you’re a cook. That has to be a fun job, creating new things and feeding your family. Tell us a little about that.”

“Yes. I cook. It is not always a fun job. In Zimbabwe some years back, and even now again, there is very little food to be bought. One time it got so bad that all I had to cook with was carrots from the garden and Marmite. Still, I am very, very good at cooking, so nobody complained. I suppose you could call it a job – what I do, but I think of it more as caring for my family, Suzette and Herman, and before Felix the cat and Cher the dog too. Hau. Shame. I get sad even now, thinking of them. All my family. Blood and two legs is not everything, you know.”

“It takes a lot of gumption to create something and share it with the world, even if it’s a garlic martini. Your life isn’t all fun and games though. You’ve had to deal with instances of animal cruelty and even murder in your village. How did that effect you?”

“Aah. That garlic martini. It was the one thing that did not bring much praise. Although, as I say, the tasting of it led to the falling off of a chair, so it wasn’t all bad. Laughter is food too sometimes, so I don’t see it as a complete failure. I’m sure that if I drank alcohol I would have enjoyed it. Garlic is wonderful. Before the animals were killed, so cruelly, Cher used to enjoy stealing wine if it was on a low enough table. That old dog suffered a little with arthritis, and being a colonial Labrador, I was not very surprised that she took Chablis for the pain. Very common painkiller with colonials. Mr Mandela, my parrot, too likes a little to drink. But then, when you see how those killers treated him you would understand. That is why he is called Mr Mandela – because he was hurt for so long and has still not bitten anyone. Yes, my little friend. We are on the radio with Madam Lisa. I hope you are not offended by being called Madam. It is my way. The way we do things here in Africa, even now. It is wrong maybe, but it is expected by many. Even though I personally only use it for those I respect and no other, it’s a habit so deep now after so many generations, it’s hard to break. I think that too much value is attached to appearances, be it the hue of your skin or any other thing. Cruelty is very much in the eye of the beholder. Some people honestly think that we are lesser than they. Not to even talk about how much less animals are. Poor things. I have seen people shocked at the chickens of Africans, scratching away in the dirt. They would never eat such a cruelly treated, in their perception, chicken. I personally would rather eat such a chicken than one which has been unable to move very much at all for all its life in a small cage. Life is just as cruel as we allow it to be. I wish it was not so. I bet you are surprised to see an African cook as a chicken activist. I am very fond of chickens. Live ones, that is.”

“You and me both. In my own story, I had to deal with lots of prejudice. You’d be amazed how many people aren’t willing to accept an electronic human. You seem very attached to your employers. What can you tell us about them?”

“You are indeed as human as human can be. You have love in your heart and that is what makes you human. That is what makes Mr Mandela human too. My employers? Yes, I suppose that they are that. They are more my family. They have been that for me more than employers, and I love them both very much. They are not racists at all. Not like those other two, read and you will see, and they are not afraid to say so. Any more. It was not always so. Suzette has been fragile for a long time. Just like Christopher was – he who was murdered. She is crazy, a little bit, but beautiful, inside and out, and Herman. Well. Herman is a lion and I would do anything for him, even though he insulted my martini.”

“They sound like very nice people. If only everyone were that way.”

“Indeed they are. The good thing is that most people are good people. Sometimes the bad people are so bad that they seem to grow in stature in our minds, even though in reality the truly bad are almost always cowards. They feel that making others smaller makes them bigger somehow. Suzette understands the problems we face in Africa today. People think that there is no more racism because there is no more apartheid. Ha! Here if you are poor and you want to eat, you will have to learn to be as inferior as is required. I suppose it is that way all over the world in one way or another.

“With Suzette and Herman, it is not about the colour of your skin, but the colour of your heart. It is simple really, when you love truly. We were all family. Christopher too before he was taken, even though he pretended to be so very stupid for so very long. The whole world should look at the colours of hearts when they seek to hate and kill. Not the colour of skins or any other apparent difference. We are all the same inside our heads and our hearts.

“Another thing. If we don’t share what is in our hearts, nobody will see our true colours. If Christopher hadn’t written so many words for his whole life, after he died, nobody would ever have known the true colour of him. In the end we saw that his colour was gold, and still today I cry with joy for having known him as well as sadness for having lost him. Our writing is important when we are gone. Even if it is just how we enjoyed our breakfast. Writing shows our colours to those who loved us when we are gone as well as when we are here. Writing keeps us alive forever.

“Yes Mr Mandela. Your colour is gold too. As were the colours of Felix and Cher. All animals have souls of gold. People could learn a lot from animals.

“You know Lisa. We think that our lives will never end, and that there will always be time to make things right. But that is not true. The only time to be right and do right is right now. We should live our lives considering love first. Who we love, what we love and believe, and know that of all things in life, love is the most important. We must find it where we can, and nurture it when we do.”

“I love animals. I have a pet rabbit named Bunny that I rescued from a butcher. I can send you a picture after the show.”

“Eish! Rabbit stew is also very much enjoyed in Zimbabwe. They are not so easy to catch. Myself, I have never tried it. I am not your usual Shona woman though – I much prefer cheese to meat. Mr Mandela will enjoy meeting your Bunny. He likes to snuggle. Does your Bunny sleep with you also? Mr Mandela sleeps on my pillow. Now I know that parrots snore too. I make sure to take many pictures of him and to write about his special occasions. Like I always say, we must leave our footprints behind for others to see. To learn, to laugh, or just to know. Even parrot footprints.”

“Oh, you’d like my boss. He writes all kinds of things, and understands those things could be around for a long time.”

“That sekuru is a very handsome man, your boss. That beard – eish! It is truly legendary. Does he throw the bones also? In Africa he would be very well known. I must read his writings soon, to see his colour, and to see what footprints he will leave.”

“He doesn’t throw the bones, but now that you mention it I’m sure he’d love to learn. Our sponsor today has been AFRICAN ME AND SATELLITE TV, by Jo Robinson. Any final thoughts, Princess?”

“Thank you so very much Lisa. It has been a great honour to be here even though I never thought I could ever be on a radio show. I believe that I will be famous in my small part of Africa today! I will send you a copy of my cookbook, Africolonial Cuisine, when Jo gets around to publishing it for me. Eish! That one! Of course she is my family too – my mother I should say, but she is a little crazy too and runs around like a mongoose with a snake that won’t die sometimes. Still, I love her, and will love her even more when I see my new book on Amazon! I made a cover for it myself – would you like to see it? I wish you very well in your future Lisa. You must come and visit us. Suzette and Herman will be pleased to have you stay, although some of the local ladies might be jealous of your impressive bosom. Eish! It is indeed a very Shona bosom! What sort of martinis do you like?”

“I don’t need to eat or drink, but I’d still like to visit eventually. Thank you for being my guest today.”

***

For many years Suzette has managed very well to live her life without actually taking part in it, avoiding any possibility of pain by very carefully ignoring reality. Until something happens. Something so terrible that she has no choice but to abandon her cocoon of safety.

After the brutal beating of an elderly domestic worker, Suzette takes her in, and sets off a chain of events that leads to devastating heartbreak. And an unexpected hero changes everything. Finally finding her voice, she speaks out, and her world explodes, culminating in the death of a very special man.

On her path to make amends, she discovers the story of his life, connects with the people of his past, and finds the chance to fully live her life once again if that’s what she chooses to.

Here is the purchase link again, in case you missed it.

 

You can find Jo at the following locations:

Amazon Author Page

Twitter

Goodreads

Google Plus

Blog

Jo doesn’t know I’m posting this, but she is a great advocate for indie authors. I find her blog informative and extremely helpful. She also provides author services, like cover design, proofreading, and formatting. The links for those services are in her blog.

Testimonial time here: I hired Jo to format THE EXPERIMENTAL NOTEBOOK OF C. S. BOYACK II, and found her to be fast, efficient, and affordable. She is extremely easy to work with.

She made these beautiful covers herself.

Princess’ cookbook is coming soon, I am told.

 

 

Camp Research

Lisa* and I arrived a few hours before sunset. True to their word, the service pitched our tents near an old hand pump for fresh water. They'd brought in a supply of mopane wood and built a sizeable fire ring. A 50 gallon drum with another hand pump was our source of gasoline.

Lisa set about getting the generator started and hooked her umbilical up to recharge. I grabbed my copy of Death in the Long Grass and started to browse.

“Really? A paper book? What's next a windup assistant that isn't dependent upon electricity?” She asked.

I folded my book shut and looked up from my camp chair. “I'm a modern guy, but the paper copy is the one I own. I also don't believe in discarding last year's technology when it still works well.”

She stood a little bit straighter. Apparently robot girls are also worried about being replaced by a newer model. The generator hummed along, but was remarkably quiet compared to the ones I'm used to. Loud grunts came from the river.

Lisa's mouth dropped open. She froze in place, and scanned toward the river.

“We don't-have-any-wifi out here! What am I supposed to do without wifi? I want to know what's making those sounds?”

“Those are hippos.”

“Says you. I know how you are, and your fantasy world has tyranosaurs and dragons in it. I want to Google those sounds and I don't have any wifi.”

“Relax, think of it like a working vacation. Look at the scenery, watch for animals.”

“But I'm basically a walking computer. I gather data and repeat it back. Software lets me make some conclusions.”

“You'll just have to gather data with your eyes and ears. See that wet canvas bag hanging on the tree branch beside the kitchen tent?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Yeah.”

“That is an evaporative beer cooler. Do you remember how to get me a beer?”

“Sorry, that data is saved to the cloud. The same cloud I can't access without wifi.”

I swiveled my feet to the ground and looked at her. This was a point of contention I'd have to address.

She flicked the little cable that ran from her belly button to the generator. “I'm tethered to the generator for another hour.”

I sat my book down and retrieved a beer with no label. I don't know whether the Anurans left me something from outer space, dwarven ale, or tshwala the native beer that basically leaves you in a coma for the night. I rummaged through the kitchen tent, but couldn't find an opener. Sheepishly, I approached Lisa with my treasure.

She flicked the cap off with two fingers. “Hmph!”

“See, plenty of uses.” I retreated to my chair.

I found myself actually re-reading Capstick. He was a good author. By today's standards there are a few too many descriptive words, but they were all unique and not simple “ly” modifiers. His graveyard humor about burying the lion victim in a coffee can was pretty well described.

This is the danger of research. It becomes an entity unto itself. I wasn't so enthralled that I failed to make notes. I used my Stipula Gladiator fountain pen to make a list. This is the same pen I bought when I outlined The Cock of the South. Here is a partial list:

• Sausage trees
• Mopane wood
• Fever trees
• Pan = pond
• Tshwala beer
• Castle Pilsner?
• Dambo = flat
• Abercrombie & Fitch (originally started as safari outfitters)
• Rowland Ward
• Marula fruit

I don't know if all these exist in the time of my African adventure, or in the location I have picked out. I'm glad I don't have wifi or I'd be tempted to find out. This trip is all about immersing myself into the environment. I can get details later.

Oooorgh oooorgh, ugh, ugh ugh! A deep baritone roaring broke the quiet of our little camp. I sat up straight and twisted my bottle in the dirt so it wouldn't tip over. The lion sounded like he was about a half mile away.

Oooorgh! Sounded right behind me. I snapped my head around as Lisa answered him. She'd recorded him and played his own call back.

“What are you doing?”

“You told me to enjoy the wildlife.”

The lion answered back. Closer this time.

“Now he's coming here, he thinks you have a date tonight. Stop encouraging him.”

She patted her hip. “I brought the B.A.G. if he gets fresh.”

I raised up my book. “It's a pistol. This book is filled with references to rifles like .470 Nitro Express, .500 Magnums and the like. Do you understand the difference?”

“No, want to know why?” She crossed her arms and shifted to one side. “Because there's no wifi!”

“Okay, keep the lion calls down and maybe he'll go away.” I found an old board and a pocket knife to give her. “You wanted to make a sign for Camp Research, try that while I read and look constantly over my shoulder.”

I started reading a lovely bit about how elephants like to pound their victims against termite mounds until they are the consistency of a bota bag.

Lisa snatched up my list and scanned it. “You'll just lose it, and I have enough onboard memory to keep a copy.”

*Lisa Burton is the main character in Wild Concept, and is a robot. Since her story ended, she works as my personal assistant. B.A.G. is our term for her Big Assed Gun.

The research phase

It’s time to do a little bit of research for my outlines. This is only preliminary stuff, more research will happen if I wind up writing one of these stories. For those who are new to my experiment, I’m in the middle of outlining four stories. I intend to make them slug it out survivor style for my writing time. This could make subsequent stories come along much faster, because they’ll be partly outlined.

***

The text, from Lisa* at the writing cabin, arrived at 2:30 today. “A group of guys just dropped off an old beater car. They said you ordered it.”

“I did. Check the model year and download a repair manual. I’ll be out after work today.”

As soon as I got home from work, I flew out to the writing cabin.

“Are you going somewhere in that junker?” Lisa asked.

“No, we are going somewhere in that junker. And it’s not a junker, it’s a Land Rover. We’re going on a research safari.”

“I can’t go camping. I have batteries to charge. And besides, who’s going to watch Bunny?

“Not to worry. Your friend Faith said she would tend Bunny while we’re gone.” I pushed my safari hat back out of my eyes. “Remember the Anurans from Arson?”

“Yeah…” She placed her hands on her hips and waited.

“I found some Anurans who operate a safari company. They dropped everything off using the Skyway system. They even pitched the tents and dropped off a generator.”

“It won’t be like a real safari. You have wooly mammoths and cave lions around here. And there are no bears on a safari.”

I ran inside and started packing books to the Land Rover. “I’ll have to use my imagination and improvise a bit. We’re going quite a ways, and we may find some real elephants, or some Cape buffalo.”

“Oh my gosh! I need to pack my clothes.” Lisa ran off in a flurry.

I loaded these books into the vehicle.

I’ve read them all before

I really need a book about propaganda, but maybe something will turn up. Do they have libraries on the savannah?

My hand moved to my beard, and I paused. I turned and yelled up the stairs. “We’ll drop Bunny off along the way. You probably ought to bring that big assed gun of yours.”

“Why? Crocodiles don’t eat robots.” The snicker echoed down the staircase.

“Very funny. If we hurry, we can probably get there just after dark.”

“Don’t wait for me. I’m ready for Camp Research.” She sat her trunk on the floor with a thud.

“Camp Research. I like that, we should put up a sign when we get there.” I stroked my beard again. “Um, what’s in the trunk?”

“Clothes and stuff. You don’t expect me to leave without a change of clothes do you?”

“Um, no. What was I thinking. You’ll have to lash it down in the back. And download a map, you’re driving.”

She lifted her trunk with one hand and carried it to the Land Rover. It’s surprising how strong she really is.

Lisa turned over the ancient four-wheel-drive’s engine. “Did you lock the door?”

“Yes.”

“Did you go pee?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see if Bunny’s scared?”

“He’s fine.”

“Will we find some natives?” She dropped the clutch and we made our way down the access road.

“I hope so.”

“Witch doctors too?”

“That’s the plan. You haven’t been out lately, have you?”

“Not really, why do you ask?”

“No reason. I think you have sixteen questions to go.”

*Lisa Burton is the main character in Wild Concept. She’s a robot and helps me around the writing cabin these days.

One of those days.

It's my son and daughter-in-law's anniversary today. Regular readers know what this means for grandma and grandpa.

I never got any writing done at all. I work ten hour days, and wound up tired at the end of the week. I slept in – it happens.

We wound up taking the kids to the Boise zoo. I really didn't want to bring them home, but Grandma didn't think the zoo would keep them. (But honey, we'll never know if we don't ask?)

Our zoo is very good for its size. They don't have any mega fauna, or apes larger than gibbons. They do a good job with what they have. I always enjoy it, and may go back alone one day.

When you take little kids it's fun, but a different kind of fun. They need to hit every snack bar, and all the playground equipment.

The littlest one had to climb on every bridge, fence, or landscape rock they placed. For a while our stroll involved take three steps, the little one fell off something. Cry and scream, dust off, three more steps and repeat. Still, we forged along.

My favorites are always the Siberian tigers. These days they are Amur tigers. I have no idea why, but same thing. They didn't cooperate today. Only one was out, and she soaked up the sun at the far side of her enclosure.

The lions were much more accommodating.

I still have that young couple in Africa in mind. They are great characters in search of a plot. It has to be one of my kind of plots, but I'm still thinking of them. Maybe I should create an outline and see where it takes me.

I'm sorely tempted to take my iPad to the zoo early and have this old gal help me outline it. It was late afternoon, and something tells me she's a morning person.

 

Houseflies and Elephants

People seem to be enjoying my new story ideas. This one isn’t a vignette, but I decided to tell you about it anyway.

My Muse, Lorelei, really poured it on a couple of weeks ago. She threatened to leave me if I didn’t start writing again soon. Then she sprinkled something in my peaches or something. I had a couple of pretty good story ideas, and blogged about them. I also had a ton of ideas for the story I just started. I’ll withhold those, because they’re mostly enhancements and not the main story.

Things are trickling off now, but I got one in a dream last night. They don’t all come as dreams, but this one did. It’s not even a vignette. It’s just a flash of something, but it was in vivid HD color. I was with someone, and I wasn’t in Idaho. It was a bit more tropical. A group of pink and grey cockatoos flew into the trees around us. Someone said they aren’t supposed to be here. (Apparently it wasn’t Australia.) There was a comment about them being feral, and something about global warming.

This one feels pretty useless, but I’m putting it in the old cauldron anyway. I know exactly what kind of birds they were, and they have an Australian name that I’m too lazy to look up. I heard somewhere they are pests.

The next one seems to work much better as a story idea. It’s been really hot in Idaho. It’s so hot that whenever someone opens a door, the flies invade. Why wouldn’t they, we have an air conditioner. It got pretty bad when the grandkids were here, because the door opens every 3.7 seconds.

This probably sounds pretty old school, but I’m a bathtub kind of guy. I know everyone prefers showers this century, but I love my bathtub. Every day, I have to pluck two to four dead flies from the tub before running my water. I could take a photo, but nobody wants to see that.

I was on my 4:00 AM bathtub cleaning this morning and said to myself, “This is where houseflies come to die.”

“How about that?” I have this cool idea about these people in Africa. The elephant graveyard is an African legend that rivals King Solomon’s Mines. I know everyone hates the idea of ivory these days, but at one time it was quite acceptable everywhere. The idea of thousands of tusks lying about on top of the ground is a treasure hunter’s dream come true. Carry them to market, never fire a shot, live like a king for the rest of your life. Since this would be an historical piece, it works out pretty well.

You can bet this one went in the cauldron too. It was immediately drawn to the vignette about the African couple.

Who knows, maybe the cockatoos will like the guy with the yak. Maybe the yak walked to Australia because of a land bridge or something. I just keep adding stuff to the cauldron and letting it blend together. There’s still an old idea about the ghost of Steve McQueen in there somewhere. Maybe he can figure out what to do with the cockatoos.

I’m off to have my first pumpkin beer of the year. It’s just a Shocktop, but I’m a pumpkin beer junkie. I’m sure more pumpkin libations will show up soon. The Shocktop is like the first butterfly of summer.

Sometimes it happens like this…

Last night as I was dozing off I was visited by Lorelei. There are a lot of new followers lately, so I’ll let everyone know Lorelei is my Muse.

I never saw her, never even smelled her sandalwood scent. Usually, she hits me over the head, but not last night. Maybe I’m in trouble.

I see posts that ask writers what they come up with first, plot or characters. It never happens for me that way. I get little vignettes. There’s a bit of setting, some plot, and a scosh of character. Then it stops. Here’s what I got last night:

I stepped off the monthly bus and removed my new felt safari hat. The plain leather band marked me as an outsider. Maybe I’d get the chance to upgrade it with something a bit more rustic. I wiped the sweat with my sleeve and put the hat back on to protect me from the brutal sun. The driver unloaded my bags and rifle case, then drove on.

The corrugated metal sign across the street was hand painted with The Grey Baboon. I carried my bags to the porch, but brought the rifle case inside. I looked up to see if the roof was really grass, or just on the outside. It was the real deal. The bartender had his back turned polishing a glass.

She sat at a table off to the far right, lounging lazily like no woman I’d ever been around before with one riding boot across a second chair. She wore one of those loose khaki military shirts with epaulets on the shoulders. Her sun bleached blonde hair was tied in back and cascaded over one shoulder.

There were light crows feet around her eyes and her skin was perfectly tanned. It was hard to tell if she was twenty five or forty five, but some of the women in Nairobi had the same look. She was beautiful, but not in that painted New Orleans style from when the boat shipped out. It was more like a perfect wild animal.

She turned over a second glass and filled it from her own bottle of gin, added two drops of quinine and sat it toward me. She took her leg off the chair and used her boot to shove it away from the table.

She pushed back the brim of her filthy old pith helmet. Her nails were cut short and hadn’t seen polish in years. When she spoke, her accent was like a combination of Australian and Heaven. “Welcome to Africa, Mr.–

***

And that’s all I got. It’s almost always that vivid and full of detail. It’s usually just that short too.

I don’t know who he is, or why he went to Africa. I know it’s historical, because he took a boat. There’s no hunting in Kenya these days, and quinine hasn’t been a staple preventative for a few years now.

I don’t know who she is, or how she knows him. She didn’t run up and throw her arms around him. She must be Afrikaans/Boer because of the accent (and the look), but she’s hundreds of miles from South Africa. That could be interesting.

I don’t know what they have planned. It could be as simple as a safari or a land sale. It might be ancient ruins or even an alien crash site. Maybe there is a will to be read.

I may never write their story, but you never know. I don’t usually post on Tuesdays, but these people are haunting me. I kind of wanted to make some notes about them and chose to share it here.

Does anyone else ever get vignettes? In all my reading it seems like I’m the odd one here. I’m usually on my own after that, but sometimes Lorelei comes back. Where do your ideas come from?