The One Percent Theory

We're down to the last eight in the World Cup in Brazil, and so far Mr Nim has been right in his 'predictions'. His contacts in FIFA have obliged with denials of any corruption by players or referees. Mr Nim would argue that it's not corruption anyway. He calls it influence. He explained his theory to Caroline when they first met at Prince Lippi's casino in Trieste. Caroline, a novice at gambling, was curious how Mr Nim managed to win such large sums.

Shameless Corruption

“Surely gambling is all about chance. All the things people gamble on are unpredictable. Otherwise there would be no point.”

She saw the smile disappear briefly from Nim’s face. She wondered if she had revealed her gambling naivety.

“Unpredictability is my enemy. That is what I fight against. To be a successful gambler you must reduce the unpredictable and increase the predictable. Sometimes it is a matter of one percent here or there, but adding together the one percents is enough to tip things in your favour.”

She thought of asking him if he gambled on football, but then remembered his advice about not asking direct questions. She tried to remember some of Robert’s moans about football matches when his team had not done well.

“But surely all sports are full of unexpected events. An important player might be injured in the game; the referee might miss something obvious; the goalkeeper might make a mistake.”

“You are right. And that is why I have a team of analysts to examine every aspect of the game; the players, the managers, the officials, the players’ wives and agents, the qualities of the grass on the pitch, everything you can imagine, and in great detail. Gambling is a war of information and the man with the best information wins. One percent here, one percent there, one percent everywhere.”

“I had no idea. So when you said you have good judgement, you mean you have good information.”

“Both are necessary. Even with good information we can fool ourselves, allow greed to cloud our judgement.”

The waiter appeared carrying clean plates and a silver platter containing a whole skinned sea bass. Caroline stifled a groan at the sight of more food, and helped herself to a piece of the delicate pale flesh. The smile returned to Nim’s face.

“I can see you have had enough to eat. After this, let us return to the tables. Tonight I am feeling lucky.”

“Does your one percent theory work here too?”

“Of course. But I cannot tell you how. If I did, I would have to kill you.” He smiled. She laughed. They drank green tea from fine porcelain bowls.

Extract from Shameless Corruption by Robert Fanshaw

Blurb

You can tell the same story a hundred different ways. And that is what happened when I sat down to write the cover blurb for Shameless Corruption. Or should I call it 'product description'? Either way, it's the bit that people might read first and think, "Wow, I want to read that," or, "I don't think so!"

Writing blurbs is teaching me more about writing novels than any other practice. It forces me to get to the essence, to cut through the waffle and say out loud, "This is about..."

It should be simple, and like most things that should be simple, it's a difficult process to mistress. I might start with a synopsis, something written to inform a potential publisher, or even myself, who the characters are and what happens in their story.

Then I write the novel, which does take a little time. Then I edit it a few times, which takes a while too. When I go back and look at the synopsis, I realise I have written a different book to the one outlined in the synopsis. I rewrite the synopsis to reflect the completed novel, and send it to the publisher, fingers crossed. I then enter the shadow of the valley of doubt while I await a response. The publisher won't like it. The whole project is misconceived. I have completely failed to tell the story I wanted to tell etc. etc.

I give up hope and start working on a new project. My energy starts to return. I don't care anymore about Shameless Corruption. 

Then an email arrives accepting the novel for epublication, and a date is agreed. Way-hay! I need a blurb now, and I need it fast. I read Shameless Corruption (yet) again. I ask myself, 'what is it about'? I consult the synopsis. Useless. I go through the book, picking out key events, change points for the main characters, emotional highs and lows, choices faced. I cut 65,000 words down to 400, then 300, then 200. Still none of the 20 versions completely satisfy but I have narrowed it down to three main angles. Is it:

   a) To help some business colleagues, Caroline infiltrates a plot to fix the result of the World Cup and ends up in the thrall of the syndicate leader;
   b) To her surprise, Caroline finds the casino exciting, and her reckless gambling takes her to a dark place;
   c) Caroline has until the final whistle of the World Cup to choose between two men, one a dangerously wealthy gambler, the other her husband.

I consult a friend who has worked in films and on games, and she reads my blurbs, confirming they don't cut the mustard. She helps me find the key point, the crux, the choice Caroline makes to go this way or that way. Another ten versions, and I'm still not sure which one will appeal to 'readers', whoever they may be. So I test the blurbs out with a group of writing friends, getting them to tell me which blurbs and phrases work for them. That was REALLY helpful.  And even more helpful, they told me which phrases were likely to make them give the book a miss. Of course, one 200 word piece is not going to impress everybody, but at last I was getting close to something I was happy with.

They told me that angle (c) is the way to go, especially since the choice is not as obvious as it seems. If she chooses to turn down the wealthy man, she risks a lifetime of servitude in a Macau brothel.

I sent the new blurb off to the publisher. Almost by return, I got an enthusiastic, "fantastic. That's great, Robert, but could you get that down to one sentence?"

Bangs head on desk.

The 200 word version is HERE on my author website. Does my blurb work for you? If you have blurb experiences to recount, or snappy blurbs to share, just hit the comment button.

Small Fortune

Some people have commented via social media that I can't be a real lawyer because I never blog about my work*. That supposition is what we lawyers call a non sequitur. Let me demonstrate. Some of my clients also accuse me, when a case is lost, that I'm not a real lawyer. I counter with the correction that incompetence is every bit as real as competence. What they mean is qualified. It is perfectly possible to be incompetent and qualified at the same time. I'm not saying I'm incompetent, not at all, but that quality is all around for us to see. I choose to write about other people's incompetence and not my own, not from a position of superiority, but because we can derive amusement, and even comfort, from the trials of others.

Of course, people will also ask, "Is Robert Fanshaw a real writer?" or, "Is his wife really the finance director of Monsaint Medical Instruments?" Or, as somebody remarked yesterday, "If Caroline didn't realise that gambling is dangerously addictive then she's pretty stupid."

I to leapt to her defence at this criticism. There's a lot you could say about Caroline, but she's no more stupid than you or I. She's very good with numbers and can calculate odds quicker than I can. So stupidity does not explain her sudden fascination with different forms of gambling. She started with a little light roulette, moved onto blackjack, learnt to play high-stakes poker, and then she texted me from the Kranji racecourse, the HQ of the Singapore Turf Club. She gave me a tip she had received from a Chinese acquaintance, a certain Mr Nim, for a guaranteed winner in the last race. Mr Nim was so certain that Caroline placed a small fortune on it.


The horse's name, in case you follow racing, is Oceans Flow. Look out for it. Really, it's a good horse. I hope it wins you some money. If you want to find out how it ran on that fateful evening in Singapore, you can look up the racing results, or wait until June for the full story, when Shameless Corruption storms up the straight of the Amazon ebook charts.

I've been drafting up some 'blurbs' for the publisher. Here's part of one...

Caroline’s marriage is already in trouble when she infiltrates a gambling syndicate that is planning to fix the result of the World Cup. Introduced to the suave Mr Nim, she learns to gamble with the high rollers, but when beginner's luck runs out, loses far more than just her money...

*The reason I don't write about commercial law is that if it bores me, it would bore you even more.

Shameless Corruption

I have some news for followers of the adventures of my wife, Caroline. Shameless Corruption, the third novel in the Shameless series, will be published by Steam eReads in June this year. The publishers also handled the first two novels, Shameless Ambition and Shameless Exposure , all available as reasonably priced ebooks from Amazon . Each novel stands alone  and you don't have to read them in any particular order. But Ambition and Exposure are a useful, lightly fictionalised background to the current predicament Caroline and I find ourselves in. If you want to experience the full impact of Shameless Corruption, you are advised to get reading.

As I have hinted in previous posts, Caroline and I are having problems with our relationship. Between you and me, I'm not sure we will still be living together by the end of the World Cup tournament in Brazil. The 'D' word is in the air. My instinct is not to talk about it, but the counsellor at Marital Solutions said it would be good if I discussed things more with trusted friends. I know I can trust you, dear reader, but please bear in mind this is only one side of the story. Caroline would probably explain it differently.

Neither of us have been saints during the four years we have been married (to which a quick glance at the books above will attest). But when Caroline was promoted to Finance Director of Monsaint Medical Instruments, it was not the job either of us expected. We both thought she would be crunching numbers at their HQ in Stratford, East London. But Ivan, the former FD of Monsaint, who got the top job, wouldn't let go of the numbers, and has used Caroline as a kind of deputy chief executive, sending her on all the trips abroad he didn't want to make himself. Monsaint has operations in Europe and South America, and next on the agenda is China and the Far East, so I have hardly seen Caroline for three days in a row over the last six months, and when I do, she is 'too tired' for the things most married people do. My work is based in London, a commute from where we live in Guildford, and I generally get my clients to come to me because I work in the London courts. I'm just saying it's not me who is away all the time.

When Caroline gets tired she struggles to control her tendency to pick faults with others, i.e. me. I try not to accuse her of nagging, but that is what it is. For years she has complained about me going to football matches (Manchester United - there's no need to feel sorry for me) and having modest wagers, nothing more than a hundred pounds, on the outcome of certain matches and the occasional horse race.

So it's a little ironic, isn't it, that she called me the other day from Italy, where she was meant to be renegotiating Monsaint's bank loans, to say she was staying another few days to learn how to play high-stakes poker from her 'friend' and casino owner, Prince Lippi?

How Strong is your Relationship?

"Something is happening and you don't know what it is, do you, Mr Fanshaw?" Danny, my after-work swift drink partner from accounts, often sprinkles his observations with lines from Dylan. It is his way of showing concern, even though he disguises it heavily with laughter and sarcasm. He had picked up on my worries about Caroline.

To reassure me further, he explained how people who work with numbers all the time have to let their hair down occasionally and it doesn't usually mean anything. Judging by the average length of his relationships, in Danny's case it never means anything. I'm not a worrier by nature, but I had made the mistake of completing a 'How Strong is your Relationship?' quiz in a glossy women's mag while waiting for my annual check-up at the dentist. I scored 'mostly Bs', which, according to Hermione Glissop, means my marriage to Caroline is hanging by a thread and I must take positive action immediately.

So when Caroline came home for the weekend, briefly interrupting her visits to Monsaint's business operations across Europe, I took Step One, which, according to Hermione, is to discuss your worries with your partner without accusing them of anything, thus avoiding 'the cycle of defensiveness.'

"I'm worried about you, Caroline."
"No you're not. You're worried about the World Cup tickets."
"The tickets would be fantastic. But what I'm really looking forward to is seeing a bit of Brazil, with you."
"The bit of Brazil in the vicinity of Maracana Stadium?"
"Yes, of course, that as well. I just think it would do us good to spend a bit more time together."
"I'm not sure how much time I'll have. You know I've got to visit the distribution centre in Sao Paulo? That's my justification for being over there."
"This is why I'm worried about you. You don't seem to have time for anything but your job."
"But I love my job, Robert. At least I do when Ivan will let me get on and actually bloody do it. Which reminds me, I'm going to have to go back to Italy next week. Von Wolfswinkle is over in Europe and it's an opportunity to open discussions with him about refinancing the company's loans."
I sighed. "Let's not talk about next week, you've only just got home."

I steered the conversation away from work and mentioned my visit to the dentist. I told Caroline about the magazine relationship quiz and that it said I needed to work on my marriage. You see, I do sometimes take responsibility.
"You don't believe that rubbish, do you?" said Caroline. Five minutes later she had the quiz page up on her tablet.
"Robert, can you pour me another glass of wine while I answer these questions?"
Five minutes later. "Do you remember Xena? Well she was telling me about these people in Fulham who help busy couples re-establish their relationships. I think I'd better make us an appointment."


For more adventures with my wife Caroline see http://goo.gl/l56y7Q

77 Days

77 days until the World Cup starts and I'm worried about Caroline getting the tickets. That's a normal thing, isn't it, to worry about your partner? Especially when she does something she has previously nagged me relentlessly for. If your partner does something out of character it makes you think they are changing. Oh my God, what if Caroline changes into someone different? What if the new Caroline is someone I don't like? Or worse, what if she turns into someone who doesn't like me?

I was in the pub, after work on Tuesday waiting for the football to come on, with a friend called Danny. We spent the first drink talking about the problems at Manchester United, and the second drink discussing the merits of different football managers, having a huge laugh at the horrible idea of Arsene Wenger as the manager of United. This led to a list of other unsuitable managers for the greatest club on Earth, and we came to the conclusion that it might as well be David Moyes because everyone else is either too inexperienced for a big club, closely associated with an enemy, or already exposed as lacking sufficient vision.

Out of the blue, Danny asked me a personal question. "How is Caroline?"
Of course I was suspicious. "She's fine, thanks."
He persisted. "Does she like Italy?"
A couple of weeks ago I had mentioned, before a European game I think it was, that Caroline was going on one of her work trips, starting in Milan; and that she might be able to get tickets for the World Cup in Brazil because she was meeting up with Bertrand Cottoneau, that guy who used to play for France and is now a top bureaucrat in the European Football Federation. I know Danny was interested in the World Cup tickets, not in Caroline's welfare, but I actually responded to his personal question with a personal answer.

"Good question. I have only heard from her once. I think she might be hiding something from me."
"Yes," said Danny, "but did she say she has met Cottoneau? Can she still get free tickets for the final?"

I took a sip of my drink. "She says she can, but there's no free lunches, are there? I'm worried what she's having to do to get them. Bertrand has some dodgy friends. She met up with him at a lingerie fashion show, and now she says she is going to a casino in Trieste. Caroline in a casino! I mean, the grief I get from her when I bet on the football. She thinks gambling is a stupid waste of money."

He told me not to worry because in business you have to pretend you like people you can't stand. And in any case, if she got tickets for the final, whatever she did was worth it. Can you tell Danny isn't married?