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This is the first draft of Sounds Of Soldiers, and I'd really like you to help me edit it to get it readyfor publication.I'm crowdsourcing the editing, because more eyes will spot more errors, and I'd like multipleopinions on which scenes need expanding, adding or deleting. Everyone who contributes will get amention in the back of the book and I'll find a way to offer you a cheaper or special version.This is the first draft of the full Sounds of Soldiers novella, though early versions of most chapterswere posted on my blog and can be found athttp://www.spinneyhead.co.uk/labels/Sounds%20of%20Soldiers.phpSome of them have beenrewritten and/or reordered, and one character has been renamed, but now I need people to read thestory as a whole and tell me what does and doesn't work.What should you be looking for?Spelling mistakes, obviously, and copy errors such as the wrong tense or valid words which arewrong in context (eg if I've typed win when I mean wind).Continuity errors. This story wasn't planned beyond being a travelogue of a greener, postwar,future. So it's entirely possible that little details of the background have changed from chapter tochapter and need to be straightened out. Robert's war stories aren't told in chronological order,which may make this a little trickier- they've been recounted as they seemed appropriate, much theway memories bubble up.Details. I've sketched most of the details of the new society lightly. If I've got any facts wrong, or you know of any interesting bits I could add, please, please tell me.Overall. Sounds of Soldiers is supposed to read like a travelogue, as Robert finds out about thestrange place his old town has become, with flashbacks detailing where he's been and whathappened to bring about all the changes. But have I covered everything? Is there a subject I should be addressing?Ideology. I know there'll be people who won't agree with the premise of this tale. If you're civilabout it I'll be more than happy to hear your reasons why you think I'm wrong. Sounds of Soldierswas intended, amongst other things, as an antidote to technothrillers. As such, the conflict isdeliberately bizarre and the result is only natural.Please email me your notes atspinneyhead@gmail.comIf you can include the word soldiers inyour mail's title that will help me keep track of your messages. Please include text snippets or chapter titles that will help me find the section you're referring to.Thank you in advance.Ian
 
It's odd to be back
My taxi is powered by a well known local kebab chain. In fact all the motorised cabs in the taxirank had a rosette around the filler cap championing their source of bio diesel. I'd have taken oneof the pedal rickshaws, but I doubt they would have been able to haul all my baggage."Are you up from London then?" the taxi driver asks."No. I've come over from Europe." This surprises him, I see the twitch of his head as he looks atme in the rear view mirror."Were you there long?""A while."I used to say I'd never leave Manchester- then I went travelling for a month that turned into fiveyears. How much has this city changed whilst I've been away? I've heard about a lot of interestingand important stuff being done in Manchester. It wants to be the model for the future of urbanliving- post war, post oil, green and self sufficient.And I want to meet all my old friends, to find out whether they've still got any of my stuff.* * *There aren't many vehicles on the road. Buses, other bio diesel or ethanol powered vehicles, someelectric cars and bikes. Lots and lots of bikes. Some sections look like old snapshots from India or China, the two wheeled masses blocking most of the road. I can't help wondering where my bikeis, this would be so much more relaxing to ride through than the old days of constantly dodgingcars and buses.Many of the cycles flocking around the taxi are quite basic, old school even. Lugged and brazedsteel tube frames in the traditional sit up and beg arrangement, usually single speeds. I get thefeeling there's a factory, or at least a workshop, somewhere nearby turning these things out.Something I shall have to investigate.* * *We move out of the centre at pedal pace, which isn't much slower than the old motorised pace. I'm booked into a hotel in Rusholme, not that far from a branch of the kebab chain that powers my taxi.So that's dinner sorted. Through snail mail and email I have told people I'm on my way, but youdon't just turn up on someone's doorstep after five years away. I'll set up camp in the hotel and thengo visiting.The taxi driver accepts Euros, and offers change in a variety of currencies. "What's a Levy?""It's Levenshulme money. One of those LETS things? Local shops and people take them insteadof real money."
 
He has a list of exchange rates. This is a taxi, so I expect them to be somewhat less than I'd getelsewhere. And we're not in Levenshulme, so I should go for an even more local currency. "I'lltake it in Curry Mile dollars please."Tipping generously gets me some help carrying my bags up to my room. They're heavy becauseeverything I want to keep from the last five years is in them. Turmoil has done wonders to cutdown my hoarding instinct, but I'm still a sucker for comics and books. Most of one bag is madeup of mensuels and samizdat one sheets I've collected in the last two months but haven't got roundto reading yet. I have a week's worth of clothes, two very small laptops, a number of peripherals,some very clever cabling and a few mementoes. Everything I left in Manchester, if it hasn't beenfurther dispersed, is spread around the homes of friends or in a storage container I arrangedremotely and don't know the location of.The hotel is more of a collection of short stay flats. My rooms are on the top floor of the middlehouse, a bedroom, bathroom kitchen and storage room. It shares a hallway and the front door withthe rooms downstairs. I plug the laptops in to charge and head out for food.The Curry Mile isn't as gaudy as it used to be, there's a distinct lack of neon. It's still nowhere near a mile long either but it doesn't have anywhere to expand into. The menus have some interestingadditions. "Rabbit kebab?" The man behind the counter gives me a look like I'm from outer space.Evidently they've been selling Thumper in a naan for a while now and only an idiot wouldn't knowabout it."Yes? You want one?""Sure, why not."The rabbit chunks on the skewer look like darker chicken meat. It sizzles satisfyingly when he putsit onto the coals. "Where do you get rabbit meat from?""Local grown. Some's from a farm in Cheshire, some's shot by pest controllers."I want to ask more, but he goes back to kneading dough into naan. So I stare out of the window atthe stream of cycles, chip fat taxis and electric cars that are passing by. It's odd to be back.* * *The rabbit is tough, but very tasty. It's not as if I've never eaten it before, it was just a surprise tofind it in a kebab shop. Now I want to sleep. It's been nearly four day's journey to get here from Dover and I have thatwiped out but not really tired lethargy of sitting around for extended periods. GMT is only seveno'clock. I could go out or I could go to sleep, but I don't really want to do either. So I decide to dosome wireless sniffing.I've accumulated a bag of kit that's larger than both laptops combined, just for finding andconnecting to wireless nodes. But I don't really need any of it, because the lights on my littlekeychain sniffer are all green. Urban networks always have better coverage, but too much timespent in valleys and small towns has left me paranoid. There are more than enough open nodes, soI pick one and I'm away.
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