What Would You Do? Finders Keepers

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first novel

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You know how it is, early morning, your mind's elsewhere, rushing down some random cul de sac of thought - then a chance event snaps you back to reality - It so did happen to myself one morning last week, and I would love to share the tale.

It was my morning commute. Train and bus from Nyon to Geneva. It had been snowing, so the usual scenes were framed in a whitish tinge. The crunch in my ear distracted me, and I stopped thinking of the children slushing through puddles and returned to observing my more immediate surroundings. The crunch continued, my neighbour ate his croissant with gusto. A particularly crunchy croissant, causing crumbs to cascade onto his jacket and jump the chasm to my own jacket.

I moved away, thinking of my own breakfast, a croissant? Plain or Croissant Aux Almondes? A bagel - yes a Raclette bagel with salty cheese, that was the choice. And now, for a second time, I was snapped back to the here and now. The bus screeched to a halt, we all swayed, croissants were crushed, coffee perturbed and the breakfast thinking mass descended wearely into the slush.

I was lucky, I could move more freely, I wasn’t getting off at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (Bill and Belinda sounds better) in Geneva, it was the next stop for me. I brushed the crumbs of croissant off my jacket, and then I saw it - a book on the floor of the bus.

I picked it up, looked around, holding it aloft, no reaction - they must have gotten off - crumbs - I jammed my foot in the door of the bus, just in time and I jumped out into a puddle. The line of commuters stretched in front of me, spread out, treading through the slush as if it was a viscous goo, or more to my sentiment that morning a gooey cheesy fondue (do be doo).

‘Hello - Is This Yours’ - a shrug, i walked on a bit ‘Do you know who’s book this is? ‘ no reaction, the line stretched on, and I paused. The building is next to mine, I’ll send an email when I am in my office, that’s the most I can do. I can’t leave it here, and I am not killing myself to run after that lot.

I sent the email to the HR in the Mel and William building, ‘ Found a book -- blah blah -- here’s my email -- blah blah’, and that was it. I missed my breakfast. So, do I start work? Surf? Listen to the brexit show? I looked at the book on my dask.

It was called ‘Telling True Stories’ published by the Harvard nieman Foundation. A guide on how to interview real people in real situations, it was fascinating, each page was marked with the readers scrawl, there were sections with fruity coloured tabs, and each chapter was written by famous authors - Tom Wolfe and Gay Talese to name but a few. It was great. I honestly learned a lot. I read an interview in the book, it was based on an old women, who was in prison, being tried for the crime of witchcraft in 1600 Germany, and it was setup as an example of good journalism - I really felt like I was there in the prison cell.

‘Ping’

You’ve got mail.

‘Wow you have my book, I was so disappointed thinking I lost it, then I thought I left it at home. Then I thought - no I was trying to read it on the bus - but you know how it is - I was thinking of my breakfast - so maybe I wasn’t reading it on the bus...when can I pick it up? Ok, lunch time. See you’.

I was so disappointed, but looking at the contents of the book, it was well loved and well used. The owner was a Spanish Journalist. She took it everywhere with her, she *swore* buy it.

I dutifully handed over the much loved book, I practiced some Spanish, and I had the wonderful insight of a 10 minute conversation with a wonderful journalist who works all over africa and showcases life stories of people who seldom have a stage.

So fellow Lilliputians, three questions.

  1. What is you reference? Is there one book you return to time and time again for that insight? Something that will help you in the moment?
  2. How much of my story is real? Can you guess the embellishments?
  3. I was tempted to keep the book? but the scrawls pursuaded me otherwise, what would you have done?
 

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Train and bus from Nyon to Geneva.
Reading this is making me mildly homesick. :);)

yes a Raclette bagel with salty cheese
OK, now I'm def homesick. Sigh. ;):)

How much of my story is real? Can you guess the embellishments?
Well, I'm fairly sure the croissant crumbs shower is true. I've experienced that particular commute hazard.
I was tempted to keep the book? but the scrawls pursuaded me otherwise, what would you have done?
Yap. Would have done the same.

Great read, by the way. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
 
That's a good thing you did @KG Christopher. I've never lost or found a book, though I've returned two wallets and one mobile phone, having rewards forced on me.

As for books I repeatedly return to, for comfort and inspiration, they're a strange selection: Guy de Maupassant's short stories, The Wind In The Willows by Kenneth Grahame, the Fearless Living books by Rhonda Britten, and books on meditation by Pema Chödrön, such as Start Where You Are.
 
What is you reference? Is there one book you return to time and time again for that insight? Something that will help you in the moment?
Several, in fact, but as this is a writing forum, I'll mention a writerly one: Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight V Swain. I've mentioned it here before. 'Tis good.

How much of my story is real? Can you guess the embellishments?
The thrust of it's real. The details are not. I reckon. All in the best gonzo spirit.

But really, no, I don't know. But I am suspicious of the journalist mentioning breakfast. :)

I was tempted to keep the book? but the scrawls pursuaded me otherwise, what would you have done?
I would have done as you did.

How much of my last sentence is real? ;)

Great read, I enjoyed it a lot. Thanks for sharing it with us!
 
Several, in fact, but as this is a writing forum, I'll mention a writerly one: Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight V Swain. I've mentioned it here before. 'Tis good.


The thrust of it's real. The details are not. I reckon. All in the best gonzo spirit.

But really, no, I don't know. But I am suspicious of the journalist mentioning breakfast. :)


I would have done as you did.

How much of my last sentence is real? ;)

Great read, I enjoyed it a lot. Thanks for sharing it with us!

yes.. the breakfast 'theme' is definately artistic licence. but i assume thats allowed for us writers... I expect there is a @Carol Rose masterclass discussing the subject.

Also. for dramatic efect i changed a rainy day for a snowy day. everything else is pretty much true.

i have a copy of the 2013 authors and writers handbook. its a great reference. loads of info. its how i stumbled across litopia.

I am sure there is a sub genre of inconsiderate commuters and their eating habbits ...'food on the hoof' ?
 
You know how it is, early morning, your mind's elsewhere, rushing down some random cul de sac of thought - then a chance event snaps you back to reality - It so did happen to myself one morning last week, and I would love to share the tale.

It was my morning commute. Train and bus from Nyon to Geneva. It had been snowing, so the usual scenes were framed in a whitish tinge. The crunch in my ear distracted me, and I stopped thinking of the children slushing through puddles and returned to observing my more immediate surroundings. The crunch continued, my neighbour ate his croissant with gusto. A particularly crunchy croissant, causing crumbs to cascade onto his jacket and jump the chasm to my own jacket.

I moved away, thinking of my own breakfast, a croissant? Plain or Croissant Aux Almondes? A bagel - yes a Raclette bagel with salty cheese, that was the choice. And now, for a second time, I was snapped back to the here and now. The bus screeched to a halt, we all swayed, croissants were crushed, coffee perturbed and the breakfast thinking mass descended wearely into the slush.

I was lucky, I could move more freely, I wasn’t getting off at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (Bill and Belinda sounds better) in Geneva, it was the next stop for me. I brushed the crumbs of croissant off my jacket, and then I saw it - a book on the floor of the bus.

I picked it up, looked around, holding it aloft, no reaction - they must have gotten off - crumbs - I jammed my foot in the door of the bus, just in time and I jumped out into a puddle. The line of commuters stretched in front of me, spread out, treading through the slush as if it was a viscous goo, or more to my sentiment that morning a gooey cheesy fondue (do be doo).

‘Hello - Is This Yours’ - a shrug, i walked on a bit ‘Do you know who’s book this is? ‘ no reaction, the line stretched on, and I paused. The building is next to mine, I’ll send an email when I am in my office, that’s the most I can do. I can’t leave it here, and I am not killing myself to run after that lot.

I sent the email to the HR in the Mel and William building, ‘ Found a book -- blah blah -- here’s my email -- blah blah’, and that was it. I missed my breakfast. So, do I start work? Surf? Listen to the brexit show? I looked at the book on my dask.

It was called ‘Telling True Stories’ published by the Harvard nieman Foundation. A guide on how to interview real people in real situations, it was fascinating, each page was marked with the readers scrawl, there were sections with fruity coloured tabs, and each chapter was written by famous authors - Tom Wolfe and Gay Talese to name but a few. It was great. I honestly learned a lot. I read an interview in the book, it was based on an old women, who was in prison, being tried for the crime of witchcraft in 1600 Germany, and it was setup as an example of good journalism - I really felt like I was there in the prison cell.

‘Ping’

You’ve got mail.

‘Wow you have my book, I was so disappointed thinking I lost it, then I thought I left it at home. Then I thought - no I was trying to read it on the bus - but you know how it is - I was thinking of my breakfast - so maybe I wasn’t reading it on the bus...when can I pick it up? Ok, lunch time. See you’.

I was so disappointed, but looking at the contents of the book, it was well loved and well used. The owner was a Spanish Journalist. She took it everywhere with her, she *swore* buy it.

I dutifully handed over the much loved book, I practiced some Spanish, and I had the wonderful insight of a 10 minute conversation with a wonderful journalist who works all over africa and showcases life stories of people who seldom have a stage.

So fellow Lilliputians, three questions.

  1. What is you reference? Is there one book you return to time and time again for that insight? Something that will help you in the moment?
  2. How much of my story is real? Can you guess the embellishments?
  3. I was tempted to keep the book? but the scrawls pursuaded me otherwise, what would you have done?
A slightly similar thing happened to me the other day. I was walking in the park one morning, thinking about some recent edits I’d made in my WIP. And there on a bench was a Sibley’s guide to birds, fringed with tab marks just like the one you found. The funny thing was that I had just deleted a reference to that exact book in my WIP (one of my characters is an avid birder). I didn’t take the book (although kinda wish I had in retrospect), but I did take it as a sign and put the reference back into my novel in honor of my sighting
 
A slightly similar thing happened to me the other day. I was walking in the park one morning, thinking about some recent edits I’d made in my WIP. And there on a bench was a Sibley’s guide to birds, fringed with tab marks just like the one you found. The funny thing was that I had just deleted a reference to that exact book in my WIP (one of my characters is an avid birder). I didn’t take the book (although kinda wish I had in retrospect), but I did take it as a sign and put the reference back into my novel in honor of my sighting

I think as writers we are always looking for signs to show us the way? might be a good topic in the forums.
 
If I used the contents of my overnight mind for my novels I would have blank white pages only. Might be easier, perhaps.
 
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