The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

Extra

media@writopia.com

Sergio Troncoso, the son of Mexican immigrants, was born in El Paso, Texas and now lives in New York City. His first book of short stories, entitled The Last Tortilla and Other Stories, will be published in the fall of 1999 by The University of Arizona Press.

Sergio submitted a special piece especially for this edition of T-zero. Enjoy!

A Day Without Ideas

I imagine that one morning I will wake up and have no ideas.One morning I will wake up and only see my wife slowly getting out of bed, just a few seconds before me.   I will only see a tired woman rushing to make my son's lunch, and maybe even take a shower, before she answers the calls of my other son, the baby.

The little one sometimes sings in his crib, and one morning, maybe, I will only hear the sounds that woke me up. I will not hear him, I will not laugh at his attempt at melody, and I will not see the brave woman who gets up to take care of him. I will not see anything at all but a tired world, a materialistic world, a quiet world, a non-world.   My eyes will function, but I will not see much.

On this morning without ideas, I will take the four-year-old to school, and maybe I won't even talk to him, although he loves to tell stories as much as I do.In fact, I know he is a much better storyteller than I am, so on this morning I will not hear his stories about Captain Morgan, the fearsome pirate.

Once on the uptown subway to school, you see, we saw a poster for Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum and began telling Captain Morgan stories.I never mentioned the spiced rum to him, but on this morning without ideas it will be as if I swigged the spiced rum, instead of just admiring the picture of the pirate.   I will be catatonic almost, and I will not listen to my child and his great stories.  Lumpaa, the friendly chocolate-munching monster?   I will not know about him either.

On this day without ideas, I will probably not even call my wife just to hear her voice, even though I know she is busy at work.   What would be the point of it?   I know she took her Tamoxifen.   I know she feels okay.   Her hair has grown back, and is downy soft after the chemotherapy. Often when I call, there is really nothing important to say. We talk for a while, we talk about nice things, and we tell each other we miss the other one, but it's rarely more than that.   On this day I imagine, this day without ideas, I may not call at all unless I have something really important to say. I may even consider this call a waste of time.

So on this day, when it finally ends, after the children have taken their baths and they are falling asleep in their colorful room full of dinosaurs and lions and trains and puzzles and books, dozens and dozens of books, too many books, I will not sneak back in to hear them breathing.  On this day, they are simply breathing. That is one of the things children do best. They breathe. Especially at night while they sleep.

So on this day, as it turns into a dark night, my children will breathe, and I will not be sitting in the darkness hearing this wonderful sound like some nocturnal vBuddha. It will simply be breathing, and I will not find it boring or exciting at all. It will simply be there, and I will not care. I will simply be there. On this day without ideas.

All rights reserved. 
Copyright © 1998 Sergio Troncoso.

Be sure to check out  Sergio's Espiritu Santo, in the Fiction section, and his interview, in the People column of the 1998 Annual T-Zero edition.
His e-mail address is STroncoso@aol.com.

 

Copyright

by Member Ali Hawke

I run an informational web site that has been online for over two years.I was shocked to discover recently that someone had copied three of my pages, replaced the Christian references with references to his religion, and published them as his own.

What he had done was infringement of copyright.   This is illegal and I could have sued him.Happily, it didn’t have to go that far.After three emails stating that copyright infringement is theft and I would go to a lawyer, the offending pages were removed.

I could do that EVEN THOUGH I did not display a copyright notice on the site.Under the Berne Copyright Convention, which most nations (including the USA and UK) have signed, anything published in any way is copyright of the author.  Unless a piece explicitly states that it is public domain and may be copied, copying is not allowed. To make it absolutely clear that your work is copyright, use this format:

Copyright (date) by (author)

If you want to use the copyright symbol, the HTML code for it is ©

An excellent place to get information about copyright is Brad Templeton’s Copyright Basics page at http://www.templetons.com/brad/copyright.html followed by his Ten Myths about Copyright page at http://www.templetons.com/brad/copymyths.html

This page also tackles the issue of fair use.

For more detailed information, take a look at Terry Carroll’s Copyright FAQ (frequently asked questions). This is a six part document written by a lawyer and available at:

http://www.aimnet.com/~carroll/copyright/faq-home.html

The site also contains a list of other copyright sources online, including the US Copyright Act, the Berne Copyright Convention, and the US Copyright office.For those outside the US, start with a web search containing the words copyright, law and the name of your country.

As writers, it is worth our time to find out about copyright.After all, our work could be our livelihood, the thing that pays the bills.  If someone copies your work, they have broken the law.

 

Quips and Bits

by Member Emma Gaulton

Remember Peg Smith's most recent triumph?  If not, you can get the full scoop in the November '98 issue. She's given us a taste of the love story she submitted to New Ideas women's magazine.

Where There is a Will, There is a Way

Meredith Kelly hurried across the park. She thought about the message from the lawyer. At last she was finally going to find out what was in the will.She was unaware of the admiring glances she attracted. Her smart little black dress, her style, and class would have been at home on the Champs Elysees in Paris. Her skirt swirled around the tops of her shapely legs in the summer breeze.

She was already running late. She felt so frustrated because she had been delayed. Her handbag had burst open and the bits and pieces crammed into it had spilt all over the pathway. She had heard someone running up behind her. Abruptly a hand had grabbed her wrist pulling her to a halt. "Hey, Gorgeous..."

Her midnight-coloured eyes went huge with fright, she turned, ready for confrontation. A sarcastic utterance died on the tip of her tongue, as she looked from an unwavering wrist up into disconcerting eyes.  In an endless moment Meredith took in powerful shoulders, a strong neck, and a dent in a no-nonsense jaw. She was aware of the most strikingly handsome man she had ever seen. His spiked flaxen hair the opposite of her unruly ebony curls. She could feel a molten pool of suppressed passion start to bubble up from where it had been buried for so long.

Meredith pushed those feelings to the side. Instead she let exasperation steam to the surface. Not only was she acting as if she was a moonstruck teenager, she was now running later than ever. All because of some conceited male, "What the hell do you think you're doing. You may think you're having fun...now let me go, or I'll get you charged with assault."

"Come on Honey...I only wanted to let you know that you dropped your sunglasses back there. I'm just trying to hand them to you. Are you sure you weren't trying to pick me up?" he said.

Meredith detested his arrogance. This was ridiculous. She just had to get away. She felt such a fool. She found herself blurting out "Oh, come off it...you'd be the last man on earth that I would look at. I just hope I never have the misfortune to meet you again."

"If that's the way you say...thank you, I'm sorry I even bothered, I'm not sure what gets into you women with your high and mighty attitudes." He looked down at her with such icy disdain that her insides squirmed. Her cheeks burned as she grabbed her sunglasses from him and fled along the pathway without looking back. As he stood and watched, she wasn't aware he held something else that had fallen from her handbag.

It was a short time later Meredith sat in the rooms of Hathaway, Price & Dickens. Sadness and a sense of being alone overwhelmed her.  The glow of mahogany and the evocative essence of leather-covered chairs and law books brought back memories of when she was a small child in her grandmother's library.

She recalled being taken to operas, art galleries and the ballet. Fancy Nancy just adored all those affairs and wanted Meredith to share in them even though she was so young. Tears blurred her vision. Now they were all gone and she was alone.

At times she still felt weighed down with guilt. If she hadn't wanted her parents to come to her graduation four years ago at the finishing school in Switzerland, they wouldn't have been in that plane crash."Meredith, do you understand what I'm saying?" Jonas Hathaway's voice brought her back to the present.

Not in her wildest dreams did she imagine this was going to happen. "Meredith, now that you have reached 25 years of age, I want to make sure you understand. Your late grandmother has left you all of Dominion Developments. It's a flourishing company, buying old office buildings and refurbishing them into up-market apartments and penthouses, priced at the top end of the market. You are her only living relative. She regretted that she didn't see much of you as you grew up. Your grandmother wanted to make up for the fact that she was estranged from her daughter, your mother, for so many years."

For a few moments Meredith felt overwhelmed, then she thought of how much she wanted to keep faith with her grandmother's memory."Fancy Nancy has left every thing to me? When does all this ... how long before I take charge of DD."

"It's not that simple Meredith. Your grandmother was concerned that you have never had any responsible employment. Nor have you shown any interest in Dominion Developments. She put a conditional clause to her will. To inherit everything, you must obtain a position as a sales consultant with DD. You must remain there for no less than six months. You're not to tell anybody who you are."

The silence hung there for what seemed an eternity. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock could be heard. Completely disconcerted, Meredith forced herself to speak.  She kept her disappointment under control and with a voice that reflected a lifetime of international schools said, "You mean I have to wait another year? What I don't understand, is what happens if I don't succeed?"

"There is a sealed codicil. It can only be opened if you don't agree to these conditions or do not carry out her final wishes."

Meredith left the office; she looked through the trees in the park at the restored Victorian building that now housed Dominion Developments.She wandered on past Circular Quay, weaving in and out of the bustle of commuters as they dashed to catch the ferries.

She sat down at a table outside her favourite café.   Meredith observed the Opera House; its giant sails sparkled in the sun above the myriad of boats buffeted along on the whitecaps. The glass walls of DD's apartments around the harbour reflected the sea like a necklace of sparkling sapphires. Her emotions were still on a merry-go-round.

Fancy Nancy's conditions! How was she going to meet them? What was in that codicil? She sipped her cappuccino and brushed back her hair that tumbled across her eye.  Thoughts flashed across her mind. Already an idea was forming. There was a way she could convince the present management to give her a position.

A week later Meredith pushed through the glass doors with DD entwined in an elaborate scroll. Now that she had the job it was imperative for her to succeed. She walked across the terrazzo floor to the reception desk.

"Ah, so Meredith, you are to start today. I'll let Peter know you are here." Mae Wong smiled as she recognised Meredith. They had met a couple of days earlier when Meredith came in for an interview.   She was older than Meredith was but they had clicked when Meredith had spoken to her in Mandarin.

They chatted for a few moments until Peter De Silva came over and escorted Meredith into his office. He towered over her as he covered her slender fingers with his tanned, manicured hands. With a gaze than lingered just a moment too long, he bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Meredith felt a momentary niggling of uneasiness, surely he couldn't know why she was really here."Sit down Meredith, So you'll be bringing in new business from the overseas market."

"Peter, as I mentioned...when I applied for the position, my father was in the diplomatic service for thirty years. I speak four languages and have a slight knowledge in a few others. Many of the people I have known through the embassies and consulates are now looking to make investments in property here in Sydney. I feel confident that I will live up to your expectations."

"That's good news. We like our sales staff to be hungry. You do understand, of course...it's company policy to let go any consultants who do not meet sale's targets. Let's not waste any time, come along and I will get somebody to help you settle in."

As he strode across the office, Peter De Silva called out, "Andrew, here's a new consultant.  I would like you to show her the ropes."   Andrew turned and saw Meredith; his eyebrows were raised in a sardonic manner as they recognised each other from their altercation in the park.

His eyes drifted lazily across the swell of her breasts and traveled up to look into exotic eyes that peeped through dark and silky lashes. She could scarcely breathe. In spite of herself, his sensual scrutiny of her body exhilarated her.Her apprehension caused a wave of turbulence to flow through her. Meredith wished a hole in the floor would open up and swallow her.

They stood there looking at each other. When Peter went back to his office, Andrew was the first to speak, "Well now...Honey. Perhaps I should show you the creche at first...that's probably where you belong after your childish tantrum the other day."

Hearing his patronising, arrogant tone, it took all Meredith's self control not to lose her temper. "You're such a Prince Charming.Please don't go out of you way, just point to the desk where I'll be working."

"It's no trouble at all, Cinderella," was the rejoinder.Without another word Andrew showed her to a desk near the one of the windows. She could feel everyone within hearing distance turning to look at her with curiosity. Her cheeks glowed as a flush spread across them.

As Meredith sat down she looked out across the city towards the harbour. With a sinking heart she wondered whether she would last the distance. It was all so new and she had so much to learn. She was shaken out of her reverie by a friendly voice.  "G'day, Meredith, I'm Malcolm Smythe. Just ignore Andrew, he hates the thought of someone coming here in competition with him...much less a female."She remembered Peter De Silva mentioned that Malcolm had been with DD since the company first started. "If you don't mind some help from an old fellow like me, I'm sure you and I can be the top guns."

Meredith perused the good-natured face.   She liked the way he laughed.  It was good to know there was at least one person she could turn to. "Thanks...I'd appreciate any help that I can get."

As each month passed Meredith became worried about meeting her sales quota. It was so important to keep in a positive frame of mind and not let rejections and other niggling things get her down.  She was the only female consultant. She felt such a rookie. Often memos that were distributed about meetings didn't make it to her desk.  If it weren't for Mae reminding her she would have missed some of them.She often felt there was someone planning how they could take away any clients she was speaking to. She thought about how Malcolm had become her mentor.

Because of him she was more familiar with the art of selling and how to make presentations. He helped Meredith organise her Filofax and advised her when she needed guidance to follow up potential clients. When she was out of the office, she was grateful that Malcolm was always available to look after her clients. His friendly laughter helped lift her out of frequent bouts of depression and self doubt after each rejection. There was constant stress. She worked weekends and it wasn't unusual to find she was working until late at night during the week also.

Although only a few months had passed, to Meredith is seemed like a lifetime. Today she felt really tired. "Here you are...you look as if you could do with this." Meredith looked up, surprised to see Andrew holding out a cup filled with piping hot coffee just the way she liked it.

"Just one of those days, I guess," said Meredith as she felt her heart go up a few beats. It was always the same whenever she was near him.She didn't trust him, he was conceited, and she and Mae had laughed about the excuses he was always making to fob of the personal phone calls from women. Even so the magnetism she felt was almost unbearable.

Just then the intercom rang. Peter de Silva's voice echoed through on the speaker.  "Meredith, I'd like you to come over to my office now, if you have a moment."

Andrew gave her an ambiguous look. "I guess you had better go and make your report to the Boss." What did he mean by that? Meredith thought as she went to see Peter.

"Meredith, come in. Close the door." This was the finish of her probationary period. She sat down confidently as she thought how her sales rate had started to pick up, despite the setbacks. Peter said, "There are problems. You don't turn up for appointments. You come in late for meetings. I also had some complaints about you continually approaching another consultant's clients and almost ruining their sales."

Bewilderment crossed Meredith's face.   She was stunned. That wasn't true. She prided herself on her honesty and professionalism. Panic seized her as she thought about what would happen if she didn't fulfill the conditions of Fancy Nancy's will.   "Peter, this is so untrue. Who complained?"

"Meredith, I can't tell you. The person involved didn't even want to tell me about the problem. They certainly weren't complaining to me. It was only by a slip of the tongue over a couple of beers that I found out about what's been happening."

She already knew the answer. She had seen them all heading off to the pub last night when she was working back. Andrew Sorensen! Every time she turned around she had felt him watching her. This is why he was so friendly all of a sudden, he thought he had got rid of her with all these lies.

Peter finished by saying, " Just take this as a warning. I still think you have potential so I'm willing to give you another chance."Meredith stormed out of the office across to Andrew. This time she was not going to let his attractiveness throw her off guard.

"I don't know what your game is? I'm here to stay, so don't think you can get rid of me as easily as that."

"I don't know what you are talking about.  I might just wonder what you hope to find poking around here? Why are you keeping a big secret from us?" said Andrew. His cutting remarks made her even more furious. What did he mean...her big secret, she thought?

Peg Smith © 1998

Leaves you wanting more? Tell her! Contact Peg at Peg@4-writers.com for the rest of the story.

 

Copyright

by Member Ali Hawke

I run an informational web site that has been online for over two years.I was shocked to discover recently that someone had copied three of my pages, replaced the Christian references with references to his religion, and published them as his own.

What he had done was infringement of copyright.   This is illegal and I could have sued him.Happily, it didn’t have to go that far.After three emails stating that copyright infringement is theft and I would go to a lawyer, the offending pages were removed.

I could do that EVEN THOUGH I did not display a copyright notice on the site.Under the Berne Copyright Convention, which most nations (including the USA and UK) have signed, anything published in any way is copyright of the author.  Unless a piece explicitly states that it is public domain and may be copied, copying is not allowed. To make it absolutely clear that your work is copyright, use this format:

Copyright (date) by (author)

If you want to use the copyright symbol, the HTML code for it is ©

An excellent place to get information about copyright is Brad Templeton’s Copyright Basics page at http://www.templetons.com/brad/copyright.html followed by his Ten Myths about Copyright page at http://www.templetons.com/brad/copymyths.html

This page also tackles the issue of fair use.

For more detailed information, take a look at Terry Carroll’s Copyright FAQ (frequently asked questions). This is a six part document written by a lawyer and available at:

http://www.aimnet.com/~carroll/copyright/faq-home.html

The site also contains a list of other copyright sources online, including the US Copyright Act, the Berne Copyright Convention, and the US Copyright office.For those outside the US, start with a web search containing the words copyright, law and the name of your country.

As writers, it is worth our time to find out about copyright.After all, our work could be our livelihood, the thing that pays the bills.  If someone copies your work, they have broken the law.

T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
http://TheWritersEzine.com

Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved