Anniversary Bash

Do you have a master-plan, or do you start something and see where it goes? Caroline always has clear objectives. To her, life is a Roman road with posts at every Roman mile. They even call them milestones in the latest business jargon. The discipline of business runs deep in Caroline's personality and carries over into our marriage. However many times events and affairs deflect her from the straight road, she somehow manages to shoehorn everything back into the grand plan.

I, on the other hand, hate to plan anything, even going to the movies. I would always rather decide on the day. So, for me, it is a particular and unusual miracle that this blog, started on a whim, has lived to see it's first anniversary. Over those 62 posts, the blog has roamed far and wide, following the adventures in publishing generated by Caroline's stories about her business colleagues. From time to time, my experiences with writers' gatherings have provided the material, and those have proven the most popular posts because people love to read something with their name in it. But in the spirit of an anniversary, I shall pour a glass of Pinot Noir, dig out three favourite extracts, and say 'Happy Birthday' to My Wife Caroline. (It's not her real birthday, but she could always have two, like the Queen).

I love it when characters answer back. Antonia Anderson said her piece when Shameless Ambition was due to be published. She wanted to explain how she came to be pole dancing in a bar in Spain.

"Robert is a lovely man but he can be cynical. I told him he wasn't being fair about career and personal development so here I am to put another viewpoint.
I am Antonia Anderson, Head of Press, PR and Social Media in Monsaint Medical Instruments. That's enough about me. Robert says he will put a picture on his facebook page. The fact is that MMI is a brilliant, dynamic company that cares about the future, and believes in nurturing internal talent. Our chief executive, Andreas Rivera-Castillo, knows that the difference between the winners and the also-rans in today's competitive environment is Leadership. Strong leaders have an undefinable edge which is why they get to the top. Belief is a big part of it. And that intensive experience in Spain with my colleagues was all about discovering the inner belief, the inner motivation that drives us to the top."  22nd March 2013.

I've had great fun collaborating the some of the other writers published by SteameReads of Australia, like when I met Tamsin Baker on a plane to Croatia.

My sleeping companion woke with a start when the refreshment trolley came past. She ordered a Bloody Mary. The plane hit a pocket of turbulence. There was raucous laughter from the seats five rows up, but my neighbour went a whiter shade of pale, grabbed my arm, and spilt some of the thick red liquid on my chinos.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I'm a nervous flyer. I always think I'm going to die." She used an inadequate napkin to dab the blotch on my trousers. Her nails were painted black.
"No problem," I said, though really it was, because I was travelling ultra light. I seized the opportunity to introduce myself and asked the purpose of her journey.
"I'm Tamsin Baker," she replied. "I'm researching my next book. After Croatia, I go on to Silesia, Moravia, and Transylvania."
"How interesting," I said. "And what would your next book be about?"
"Vampires. The myths originate from that part of Europe. They really did exhume bodies and stick a stake through the heart. It's more than a myth; every society wonders what happens to people when they are dead." She looked straight at me and her eyes widened. "Don't you wonder, Robert?"
12th June 2013.

And then, of course, there was that time last year when Caroline bumped into some characters from a book by Annie Oakfield, Amber and Lucy, and went to their hotel.

By the time I'd had my shower Caroline was curled up in bed and nearly asleep. I decided to risk extreme grumpiness and engaged my wife in conversation.
"What happened next?" I asked. "You were going to tell me about the maid and the champagne."
"Oh God, Robert, I'm really tired. I didn't get much sleep last night. Can I tell you about it in the morning?"
"I didn't get much sleep last night either worrying about what you were up to."
"I wish you wouldn't worry. There's no need to. I'm not suddenly going to run off with another woman, or two other women as it turned out."
"Two?"
Caroline turned over and talked to the bedside table...
6th August 2013.

Warning of Gales

The legal profession knows about computers but does not trust them. The old boys, like Forbes-Brown, have a series of avoidance strategies starting with:

a) pretend helplessness and get someone else to use the machine; and

b) use that other kind of memory located inside the human brain. 

When I was worried about getting stuck on the Isle of Mura with the awful Regina Heart, I phoned Forbes-Brown for a forecast...

 “Could you look up something on your computer for me? The signal’s so poor it takes too long for the pages to load.”

“What pages? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Robert. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Forbes-Brown’s office was a museum of 1980’s work artefacts. The walls were lined with leather bound books. The coffee table supported a pile of real magazines covering subjects as wide as golf and classic cars. His means of communication to the outside world was a solid lump of phone connected to Dorothy, his secretary, who sat in an ante-room wearing a silk blouse, twin set and pearls. She did his typing, translating his elegant long-hand into a suitably legal typeface. His concession to the new century was a sleek grey laptop which he used to weigh down the pile of papers in his in-tray.

“Open it up,” said Robert. “Okay? Now there should be a world icon along the bottom. Click that.”

“Sorry Robert. It’s just a dark screen.”

“Have you switched it on?”

“How do you do that?” Dorothy had offered to give him a tutorial in 2008 but he’d not got round to it yet.

“Do you want to put me back through to Dorothy?”

“She’s on her lunch break.” The routine of the Edinburgh office day was also firmly based in the past. Staff had two tea breaks with biscuits and strictly one hour for lunch. Anyone returning to their station five minutes early was letting the side down.

“There will be a button near the top with a broken round symbol.”

There was a pause, followed by a faint whirring as the machine came to unaccustomed life. There was another long pause.

“It wants to know which country I’m in,” said Forbes-Brown, “but Scotland’s not on the list.”

“Try United Kingdom.”

“Got it. Now what? It says I have to register something.”

“Have you never used it before?”

“Just ask me what you want to know, Robert.”

“I want to know the weather forecast for the Western Isles. I want to know if this is a lull in the storm or the start of a fine spell.”

“Well why didn’t you say so instead of making me mess around with this bloody thing? I listen to the shipping forecast at five thirty every morning. Let me think… There were warnings of gales in Forties, Cromarty, Forth, Trafalgar, Shannon, Rockall, Malin, Hebrides, Bailey, and Fair Isle. What are you?”

“I don’t know, Forbes-Brown.”

“What the hell do they teach at school these days? You’ll be Malin or Hebrides. In any case it was rough or very rough, becoming high in Rockall and Bailey. Moderate or good, occasionally poor.” Forbes-Brown had trained his mind to remember detail for his part two exams and the skill had never left him.

“Can you interpret that for me, Forbes-Brown?”

“It means get off that bloody island this afternoon while you can. I expect to see you here first thing in the morning.” He summarily ended the call.

This extract is from Shameless Exposure available as an ebook from Amazon. Just click the title for more info.

White Bikini

The cover of Shameless Exposure shows my wife Caroline on the beach, wearing the white bikini she bought in a shop not far from the Avenida Atlantica by Copacabana beach. She was visiting Brazil on a business trip with the Chief Executive of Monsaint Medical Instruments, an American called Andreas Rivera-Castillo. I never met him, but by all accounts he was a complex character, driven to succeed and frustrated when he couldn't get what he wanted.

Andreas had been head-hunted for the top job at Monsaint, parachuted in to clear up the mess left by the previous CE, Melody Bigger. He left his wife Trish behind in the States. He didn't talk much about her, but hinted that she had nervous anxiety and was better off at home. In London, Andreas hung out with a bunch of American ex-pats, bankers, diplomats, and other senior executives, enjoying the Premier League soccer and the London nightlife.

When Caroline was brought back from Frankfurt and given the lead role in expanding the company into South America she thought it was a reward for good behaviour and a sign that her career was still on an upward curve. Andreas dropped hints about succession planning and the possibility of a board position for her. Bringing her back to HQ would give him the opportunity to observe her work at first hand and to mentor her in the mysterious world of the very senior executive.

The day Caroline bought that bikini was a rare day off in a trip that had taken her to all the major South American capitals. She was glad to get away from Andreas for a while. He had engineered the business trip so that it was just the two of them, and tried every technique he knew to persuade Caroline into his room. At the risk of her career, she held out against him. The company risk assessment for the trip suggested Sao Paulo, the next meeting, was too dangerous, and brave Andreas said he would go alone, allowing Caroline a day on Copacabana beach.

After a little light shopping, she took a walk along the beach then settled down not far from a lifeguard station. A boy appeared taking photographs of women on the beach. She tried to wave him away, but he was persistent, and fifteen minutes later two big men appeared, one black, one white, with a photograph of Caroline and a demand that she pay a hundred dollars US for the picture. She refused. She had been warned against taking cash to the beach and didn't have any dollars anyway.

I won't spoil the book by telling you what happened next.

 Shameless Exposure is an e-book available from Amazon. Just click on the title.

The weekend: what's yours for?

Don’t you just love weekends? Time to slow the pace a little, relax in the bath with an ebook? Caroline and I often end up having a row on Friday night, the accumulated tension of the working week boiling up into a tornado of misunderstanding. But by Saturday morning, everything’s fine again. We both have a large capacity for forgiveness, which is just as well after the scrapes Caroline got into when setting up a new office for her company in Germany.

It is a timely story, an insight into a behind the scenes world of politics and finance. I just had to collect the evidence and write it down. A small indiscretion with work colleagues in Spain had brought my wife to the attention of Melody Bigger, former chief executive of a medical instruments company and part-time Madame. Melody had an old score to settle with a banker, Von Wolfswinkle. She tricked Caroline into attending Wolfswinkle’s weekend sex parties, a private relaxation for hard working financiers and politicians.

It was quite an education for Caroline, but understandably she was reluctant to give me the details of her initiation into the Inner Circle. In the end I had to rescue her from a sex club in Copenhagen. I’m a lawyer, and it was satisfying to do some investigative work to uncover the honey trap plot. That Melody Bigger is, as the Americans say, ‘a piece of work’.

People ask, ‘How did you come up with the story?’ The plot was taken from life, and marriage gave me the character of Caroline. The book gives some insight of the pressures many face in trying to balance the competing demands of work and marriage. But if you can laugh while chaos threatens to derail your life, then you’ll probably enjoy Shameless Ambition. 

I don’t like the idea of being pigeon-holed into a genre or sub-genre. How many times do you read a ‘blurb’ after finishing a book and think, ‘no, that’s not the book I read?’ Perhaps I also wonder about the word ‘romantic’ in relation to the gritty world we experience and to which I try to be true. But romance is story, and it is all for love, even though sometimes we misread the signals. A genre label is a helpful signpost, giving the potential reader a shortcut or a health warning – ‘may contain sexy scenes.’

In the end, all that matters is good writing. Good writing makes good reading. There is something real, an underlying truth, in well written fantasy, however outrageous it may seem; and there’s nearly always something wonderful and fantastic in the real things that happen in our lives. That’s why we all have stories to tell, and why I spend my weekends writing.

Economy Drive

Caroline controls the household finances and makes sure I do nothing to damage our credit rating. She won't let me forget the time I incurred double bank charges to pay for her birthday present. But I always know when she's about to spend a load of money, because it's preceded by an announcement of an economy drive. After two weeks of forgoing my morning coffee on the way to work, Caroline tells me she's bought a new car or some Agent Provocateur underwear.

This time, it was a holiday. She'd read an article about SAD and said she didn't want to be sad so had booked a trip to the sunshine in Gran Canaria.
"It's only a week, it won't cost much. I really think you need a break from work."
It doesn't have to cost much but Caroline decided we should stay in a five star hotel popular with the Germans, so popular that it employs a number of German staff. Ever since her spell in Frankfurt opening up Monsaint's European hub she has been completely in love with everything Teutonic.
"You'll love it Robert, I promise. German women are so attractive. They really know how to look after themselves."

There was one small flaw in Caroline's calculations. In January, in Europe, in 2014, the only people who can afford the time and money for a five star hotel near the tropics are public sector pensioners and long retired doctors, dentists, and pharmacists from Germany. However well you look after yourself the bloom begins to fade when it's five minutes to midnight. The Germans are health conscious and the hotel had a doctor in residence with morning surgeries but there comes a point where daily sausage, beer and the five-cigarette breakfast show through even the best manicured exterior.

Now, in your imagination, factor in a small geographical detail. The said five-star hotel is next to a nudist beach extending two miles to the next resort along the coast. I am a big fan of the concept of nudism, even though the reality can be disappointing. Let me just say I am full of admiration for those ageing wrinklies who are at ease with being as nature intended; the view out over the Atlantic was beautiful. Only on Saturday, when the Spanish locals come down to the beach on their day off did the view on the sand improve.

Even Caroline found her admiration of Germans tested by the scramble for dinner. Pleading (and somewhat misleading) letters from the hotel management reassuring guests that there would still be something to eat at 8.30 pm did nothing to halt the 6.30 pm stampede for a good table, an indecently early hour to dine on Spanish territory. At breakfast I placed an order for an omelette (onion, tomato, ham and coriander) only to have it snatched from under my nose by a German in a hurry.
"Hey, that was mine! He stole my omelette!" The Spanish egg chef shrugged his shoulders and started my omelette again. I was happy to stand there another five minutes. You can't complain about breakfast outside in January.

We had to get out of the resort to see the real Gran Canaria and booked a couple of walks in the mountains. We've been on organised walks in Spain before, including a series of adventures with the rotund Pepe which ended in the drunken recital of Robert Graves' poems an hour and a half after the advertised finish time. But this walk was catering for Germans, complete with walking poles and a strict timetable.
"We stop for half an hour at the bar in Santa Lucia." After twenty minutes, we were reminded it was time to begin leaving. Ah, so this is what Spain would be like if it was run entirely by Germans. We did get an interesting tour round the southern resorts of the island as we dropped people off at their vast hotels. We didn't see anywhere better than where we were staying.

The economy drive was completed on the journey home with the purchase of a duty free diving watch (Caroline: "I want to know the time if the plane crashes into the sea"), diamond earrings, Obsession perfume, spirits (two litres of super-filtered Vodka), a box of Cuban cigars for a colleague who smokes, luxury chocolates, and two pairs of wrap-around sunglasses tested to destruction in a wind tunnel. We're going to start cycling the half mile to the station in the morning.

Shameless Exposure: The Review

Part of me expects to get beaten over the head when I reveal more of the recent experiences of my wife, Caroline. I know some things would be better left unsaid, but writing is a compulsive activity, and I can't ignore the material that's right there in front of my nose. Caroline hasn't read Shameless Exposure to the end yet, so I have no bruises. She did contribute a couple of chapters, but that's another story. Better still, the fab people at Readers' Favorite have produced a review which gives the author, me, great heart.

When Caroline does read it, I will direct her to this review before she starts throwing things.It demonstrates, I think, that at least one person in America understands me.

Book Review

Reviewed by Natasha Jackson for Readers' Favorite.

Robert Fanshaw takes readers on a fantastic voyage filled with interesting characters from all walks of life in Shameless Exposure. From the very first page we know this story is going to be unique. Starting with an ominous warning letter of a Bigger woman causing trouble to an accidental turn as a prostitute, Robert and Caroline prove to be quite the characters themselves. But the real trouble starts when Caroline agrees to model for a calendar to raise money for cancer research. It’s a great cause, so what’s the problem? The problem is Erik, the artist behind the calendar and Caroline’s world famous ex-lover. Then a million dollar case takes Robert off to Scotland where the oddities really pop up like a crocus in the snow.

In Scotland, Robert and then Caroline are unwitting pawns in a twisted mind game perpetuated by a woman who fancies herself as a prophet. As leader of her own cult, Regina is in the position to execute a revenge plan that threatens Robert and Caroline’s relationship. Robert Fanshaw does a good job painting these odd creatures from the nuances of their speech to the manipulative vagueness of Regina’s slow revelations. There is a lot to be learned from every character in the subtleties he presents in every word chosen that reveals so much about each character. The plot twists in Shameless Exposure were enough to keep me glued to the book until the very end. This story is written in a very ‘British’ style that is more cerebral than action-packed, but that just made the story more enjoyable and realistic. Both realistic and as fantastic as this could be.

Any further support, via the comments section below or reviews on Amazon would be much appreciated and may help prevent personal injury.

The A, B, C, Award

Darry Fraser told me it would as easy as ABC. Not in this household. Caroline read my first go at this and a few smashed plates later we decided to share it out. Caroline started with 'A', I did 'B' and so on... Please don't lose track, I wouldn't want you to think I wanted to be a Bond girl.

Here's what you do...

1. Display the logo and link back to the person who gave you the award.
2. Nominate some other blogs.
3. Work through the alphabet writing one word or phrase about yourself or things you like or associate with yourself that begin, A... B... C... All 26 of them.

Caroline, you go first...

A: Attractive, of course.

B: Bone idle - well, according to Caroline I am.

C: Curvaceous. But only I can say this; when Robert says 'curvaceous' it means 'fat'. Oh, and The Catch , Robert's latest story.

D: Dad. He taught me everything I know about being an idler.

E: Electricity. I love the way it makes the lights come on.

F: Food. Has to be. Anything cooked by someone else.

G: Gorgeous, of course. 

H: Heidi Klum. No, I'm not being shallow, Caroline. Her personality shines through the gold lame dress.

I: Ian Flemming. I enjoy James Bond films. I would have loved to be a Bond girl for the swimsuits but not for the nearly getting killed bits.

J: Jelly. Preferably in a trifle.

K: Katherine Heigl. Why? If she had red hair she would look quite like me.

L: Love. It's all you need Caroline, isn't it? Along with a nice house, a car, two incomes...

M: Melody Bigger. She showed me the ropes. For an explanation see Shameless Ambition

N: No, no, no! My reaction when Caroline said she wanted to pose naked for an ex. She did it anyway.

O: Orgasm. I can't get the thought out of my mind after reading about the proselytes in Shameless Exposure
P: Peas. Nice with steak and chips.
Q: Quantum Physics. I love intelligent men.
R: Random acts of kindness.
S: Steam eReads of Australia. They publish Robert's books and when he's happy he doesn't bother me all the time.
T: Trains. They take you places, and you can eat sandwiches and drink coffee without stopping.
U: Underwear by Agent Provocateur. I like expensive.
V: Von Wolfswinkle. What a banker! For details see Shameless Ambition
W: A win/win situation, aka our marriage (I win whatever).
X: Has to be Xena Bardot. She was Miss August in Shameless Exposure Blonde, big t***. Not as attractive as C, of course...
Y: Yacht. I've told Robert I want one.
Z: A zero sum game, aka our marriage (for every winner, a loser).

So now it is my pleasure to bestow the ABC Award to:

1. Isabella Brooke The Arkthwaite stories.
2. Annie Oakfield  It's a bucket list, a rude one.
3. Liz Hurst  A girl and her cat write. Yes they do.
4. Erica Hayes  Urban Fantasy. 
5. Julie Houston  A funny, feelgood writer. 

Thanks again to Darry Fraser who nominated me.