Karavansara

East of Constantinople, West of Shanghai


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First day in isolation

Who am I trying to fool?
I’ve been in isolation in this place since I moved in, in 2009.
I’ve been in severe isolation since my father died, and I started working for the bank, to pay the bills and little else.
I’ve been isolating at home since March, when the pandemic fist hit this country.

One supply run every three weeks, wear a mask, wash your hands with disinfectants, see old friends in Google Hangouts.
But it’s the first time I’m here in isolation actually worrying about my health and, more importantly, about my brother’s health.

I have always tried to apply the Mickey Rivers rule that it’s useless to worry about things I can’t control, and in this specific case, there is nothing I can control.
Everything’s out of our hands.
And it is infuriating to think that those that were supposed to control those things, failed miserably, and probably did not even really try.
They shut down the local hospitals, defunded the public health system, failed to plan ahead a response to a pandemic despite the fact that all previsions said it was not a matter of if, but of when it would happen.

And yet, raging against the incompetent politicians is another useless activity, one that only makes things heavier.

So we stayed at home (big news), and waited.
My brother took a massive nap, and I read a book, watched a movie, and did a first, very light pass on the galleys for my book about turn of the century adventurers.

Tomorrow it will be more of the same.
It’s the weekend, after all.
I might record a new episode of my Radio Karavansara music programme.
What do you say?


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No opportunity for boredom

The big news tonight was that the local parson has been quarantined, and his assistant hospitalized, being positive to COVID-19.
And, being an atheist, and having been for forty years and then some, the thing should not worry me – apart from the human compassion for people having a hard time.
But…

Seven days ago my brother met the vice-parson. They kept at a safe distance and were both wearing face masks, so this is not a “proper contact” according to the emergency number we called as soon as we got the news.
No symptoms have surfaced so far – but my brother’s been nursing a bad cold this last ten days.

Bottom line – we are sitting tight, isolating at home, and counting the days.
We are also making plans to creatively ration our provisions – I was supposed to go on a supply run tomorrow. So we’ll have to manage with the little that’s left in our pantry, and the supply drop a friend will provide tomorrow.
So yes, fear, quarantine, and rationing.

Looks like 2020 is getting ready to close with a bang for the Mana Brothers.
I’ll keep you posted.

Also, I’ll need to have a word with God when this thing is over.


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Five Days Novel – I can’t do it, but…

Based on my current wordcount (32.000), it is plain to see that I cannot write and edit a novel, from conception to finished draft, in five days. Granted, I had a few time-wasting accidents along the way, and will end up with a solid fill-length novella, still needing a thorough review.
But 50.000-words worth of novel ready for upload on Amazon in 5 days?
No.

For me, the limit for that sort of feat is seven days, and in this I find myself more in line with Dean Wesley Smith’s Writing a Novel in Seven Days. One full week is more my sort of thing – five days are too tight if you can’t fully isolate from the outer world.

But while more hangups loom over the weekend (including a deadline for a submission I want to hit), crippling the final mile of my marathon, there are still a few takeaways from the whole experience, and this is good. Let’s see…

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Career advice

For a lark, after dinner, I took the British Government test for assessing my skills and for career orientation.
Turns out I should be an actor or an editor.
Now this is a surprise…

Surely 20/40K pounds a year would be great.
Pity I live in the middle of nowhere, in a place in which you either make wine or you make bottles, corks or labels.


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5 Days Novel – the boring parts

So we have passed the 25.000 words mark, and we are coming to the end of the middle and the beginning of the end. Or something.
And the middle is always a problem. That’s where the story sags, where the excitement of the start is gone, and the excitement of the finish is yet to come.
I have no figures about this, but I think this is where most people drop their writing and move on to another story, or another job altogether.

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5 Days Novel, day two

As Styx used to sing, nothing ever goes as planned, and it really is worth saying. The wasted morning turned into a confused afternoon. But now, after six hours of intensive writing, six quarter-hour walks and a light dinner, we are cruising decisively towards 20,000 words in two days, which is not the expected 30,000, but what the heck, who am I to complain?

Meanwhile, things are happening – as it always does in these cases.

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