Alberta Ross Talks About Not Following Rule One and Giveaway

Gladiator's Pen welcomes guest Alberta Ross to the ludus. Thanks to parents who gave her a love for reading, music, and a curiosity of the world around her she became a world traveler for the first part of her life. For the second stage of her life she found a thirst of knowledge, and  the time has come for Alberta to share all of that though her pen with prose.

Alberta has penned the first two books of The Sefuly Chronicles, Ellen's Tale and The Storyteller's Tale. Today she will be sharing some of the wisdom she has gleamed from her writing experience.



So pour a cuppa and enjoy your reading then be sure to comment for your chance to win one or both books of The Sefuly Chronicles. Details will follow Albert's post.

How I didn’t follow rule one

By Alberta Ross

Rule One

 There is a right way to plan a new world, whether on this planet or another, in this time or some other, making sure there is a logic which works for that world.  If it be magical, fantastical or horrific there must be an underlying logic to be able to suspend our reader’s belief.  Some plan it out for months, with complicated notes and graphs.  Having to plot not only the geography of a place but its history, customs and legends as well is hard work but done well is an amazing achievement.  Everything melds and connects and is satisfactory, no holes, no gaps, seamlessly created the right way.

The Wrong Way!! 

 I will tell you about the world I created and the numerous problems that arose, many self-inflicted.  The Sefuty Chronicles are not set in a fantasy world; there is no magic to contend with, no strange beasts to accommodate.  This world is not set on a strange planet that has evolved its own ways.  My world is Earth projected into the future.  The southern part of this world dried up and burnt, whole starving populations began to move north.

We all know about this world, Earth, so logic must be applied even more ruthlessly.  My lack of forward planning became apparent very quickly in the writing.  It wasn’t so much that I was building a world, I was destroying one.

I took away fossil fuel.  We think we know what that would mean: no petrol, so no cars, no gas/electricity for heating and cooling – very unpleasant.  For a short story I might just have got away with it!

Ellen Tale was, of course, meant to be a short story!

However, when we think it through then we can see that the world loses the ability, overnight, to feed the population, well the Western world anyway. 

No man-made fertilisers, no tractors, lorries, ships or planes, no refrigeration. 

How to sow, tend and harvest crops?  How to process foodstuffs?

What would happen then?

I had caused Earth to suffer catastrophic climate change.  My thinking was that very quickly there would be major wars over dwindling resources.  I made all the defenders of land and water make extensive use of landmines.  I was basing the Great Climate Change Wars of my invented world’s history on the wars I have witnessed in 60+ years and projecting them only a little further into the future.  2060 is not so far away!

So now I have a starving world, wrecked by war, and a decimated population.  Everything, as I said before, is connected.  I removed one aspect of our life, fossil fuel, and added one, climate change; but one thing cannot be changed without a cascading fall of domino-like consequences.

In Ellen’s Tale, Ellen was the link between the City and a village.  As the short story expanded I found I was in trouble again because I did not know what to expect in each place.  Back to drawing board big time.  I had to stop halfway through and have a major rethink.

Because of the back history, these two places had been separated by major warfare and isolated from each other for fifty years.  I then had to consider how each would have changed socially and culturally.  How much of what we know now would change by 2111?  Without the planning at the beginning I had painted myself into various corners which proved difficult to get away from. 

For instance

 A village is imprisoned within a ring of landmines and there is no escape for fifty years.  Food is grown but the harvests are completely reliant on external circumstance such as pests, weather and local expertise.

How would our present day social obligations and rules change? 

How would population numbers be controlled?

How would those who cannot contribute to survival be dealt with?

Without contact with any government (remember those dominos, there is no radio, no computer, no communications) who rules the roost? 

And 

How do those in the cities manage?

 There is no fossil fuel to run the infrastructure.  Warmth, food, security at the moment all rely on fuel, and so the list of cascading dominoes goes on.

Food supplies to large urban areas rely on transport links.

Enormous populations crowded into small areas are a sneeze away from pandemics – our healthcare services rely on fossil fuel.

By the time The Storyteller’s Tale, the sequel, was started I had made my plans, organised my histories, started the different cultures and begun to really think through the consequences of my actions.  I know my world well now but I have had to untangle myself in the process. 

 Moral of this tale?  Think it through in great depth before you start and

 Apply rule 1) at all times!

**
Now for some Giveaway fun!
Here are the details for Alberta's Book Tour Give away
 Every comment to her blog tour gives you one chance to win, so find all her tour stops and make sure you say hello. You can get EXTRA entries by mentioning the tour on Twitter, Facebook or your own blog. Just let Alberta know where you've spread the word

At the end of the tour she'll draw 2 winners for the complete series so far and 3 runners up to pick the book of their choice.

Where can you find Alberta Ross and The Sefuty Chronicles?

http://www.albertaross.co.uk

Alberta’s official website 

http://sefutychronicles-albertaross.blogspot.com

where Alberta blogs about writing and self publishing

http://www.didyoueverkissafrog.typepad.com

blogging about anything she fancies

Alberta can be followed on Twitter at

http://twitter.com/albertaross

24 Hours

Eric grimaced and groaned as he peeled his eyes open. His hand shot up to block the bright beam shining though a hole in the curtain. “What the…”

When he rolled to his side away from the light he felt the thrumming of a hangover. This seemed more than just too much Johnny Walker. Eric sat up and tried to focus though the haze in his mind.

The room wasn’t his. He looked around the cheap dive of a hotel room and immediately wanted a shower. There was no memory of coming here. He wouldn’t set up roaches to stay in the, he looked at the sticker on the front of the telephone, Fox Trot Motel.

The last thing he remembered was standing at the bar talking to a hot blonde with kissable pouty lips.

His foot brushed something on the floor. He reached down and picked up a black satin bra. Oh, I can’t have forgotten this?

Hand combing though his hair, he stood and followed the trail of female clothing to the bathroom door. From behind the practically closed door, he could hear the shower running. Puffs of steam hit his skin as he reached for the knob.

He noticed a square of white gauze taped to his arm. What the hell?

Eric yanked off the tape. He flinched as each hair pulled and stung, but not as much as what he saw. A tattoo in western style letters that read, “24 hours”. What did that mean?  He licked his thumb and rubbed at the ink.

It was raw and sore but the ink didn’t even smudge. It was a real tat, now he was angry as he grabbed the door and pulled it open. “Okay, I want some… answers.”

Eric stopped. There was a rancid smell in the steamy air. His breath stilled as his mind tried to accept the sight. The tub was half filled with bloody water and the body of a lifeless woman.

Her dark hair caked with blood rested over her paled skin, the color of the porcelain tub. Blank and staring her eyes locked on his and he was finally able to see the gaping wound on her head.

Eric recognized her as the bartender from the club. He stumbled back into the bedroom shaking his head. “No… no, no, no, this isn’t happening. I didn’t do anything… oh God what happened?”

His hand drug across the top of the dresser, a set of keys pushed to the floor with a clank that made him jump and turn.

Out of here, he had to get out of here. He searched the room for his things. His clothes had been neatly folded and placed in the top dresser drawer. His wallet was still tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. He checked it, all his cards and money were there.

Eric jerked the pants on and scanned the room. His cell phone was missing; maybe it’s in the car. He stooped to grab the keys from the floor then paused. They weren’t his keys.

Frantic he searched the room he shouldn’t be here. The maid would come and he would be caught. They would haul him off to jail for murder. He didn’t kill her, at least he doesn’t think so.

He doesn’t remember anything past drinks at the bar. What couldn’t he remember? He must have been drugged, that’s the reason he felt hazy. Eric dropped to his knees and looked under the bed. “Where are those keys?”

He stopped searching when he heard a cell phone ringing from inside the dresser. He began to pull open the drawers until he came to a cell phone still ringing and a photograph of him and the bartender kissing in the parking lot of the motel.

It was the same girl in the tub. No, this girl was smiling and her eyes had life in them. He remembers flirting with her when he picked up drinks for his friends.

The ringing stopped but Eric didn’t notice his eyes were locked on that photograph. He picked it up ripping it in pieces. He started to drop it into the trash. They can put it back together.

Instead, he crammed the pieces into his jeans pocket. He paced the room trying to think. He cannot leave any trace… he had just left his prints on every surface looking for his keys.

Eric ran into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to wipe down the room when the strange phone in the drawer rang again, this time with a text. He looked at the screen on the phone as it lay in the drawer. 

“Eric, answer the phone.”

They knew his name. He breathed a sigh of relief; it had all been a prank. Jerks, he thought. The phone rang and he answered this time. “You guys are in so much trouble. How much did you pay that girl to play dead? “  

The voice on the other end of the call sent a chill down his spine. “I know what you did last night, Eric. Help me and I will make sure no one else knows.”

Hand shaking he combed though his hair and paced. His heart raced, his eyes darted to the bathroom, nothing happened… nothing happened last night.  “Know what? You don’t know anything. Who is this?”

Breathing was the only sound he heard though the phone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t do anything. Nothing happened. Do you hear me? Nothing… happened.”

The voice was calm as it spoke low, the sound like gravel turned into words. “I know, the police will know, unless you do as I say for 24 hours.”

Eric looked down at the tattoo on his arm. He was trapped there was no other way out other than to call the cops. Then he has to hope they can find evidence of a real killer. Unless…

He had no memory of last night. What if whatever they slipped him made him do something? What if he is the killer? Coerced or not the rest of his life would be in a 10x10 cell.

He was boxed in, there was nothing he could do. Except buy time to try and remember. “What do you want?”

To Be Continued…..