Hi Mix. This shop used to have a huge stock of various magazine back issues, but I haven’t been able to visit since they moved from central London, so not sure if they still have them. Might be worth an email? Best of luck.

http://www.aviation-bookshop.com/

I’m not a religious kind of man by any means, but when my mother passed away a couple of years ago, I found tremendous comfort in the ministrations of a local priest. Knew he’d moved away from our town, and last week on a short break to London, my wife insisted she saw him, though we didn’t have time to say hello. Today I tracked him down on the internet, sent an email, and he not only replied within hours but clearly remembered us, even quoting details about our house. Considering my lack of religious conviction and how briefly we knew him, I found that very touching. A great, if unsung man, IMHO.

[QUOTE=’568 crew;1483007]I Really, liked your re-write of my story, can I use it?(alright not a complete carbon copy, but just bits and stuff!)

Damn good though![/QUOTE]

Be my guest. 🙂

First, let me say I admire your courage here, because I know what hard work it can be, and how disappointing when people shoot your “baby” down in flames. I’ve dabbled in writing a little, with one published aviation title many moons ago, and an on-going fiction project that is more for my personal pleasure (?) rather than in any real anticipation of getting it published. I find a great satisfaction in getting my ideas down on paper to the best of my ability, even if no one else ever sees them. Anyway, I hope you wil take the following as constructive criticism.

I read CWMkII, and I’m a little confused about the narrator. From the way he speaks he’s clearly English, but is flying with a USAF unit; if he’s on an exchange posting, maybe you should say so. I think you could also bring it alive a bit more with some observations and emotions form the narrator.

As others have said, you have a great imagination and feel for aviation, but I think you really need to brush up on punctuation, grammar and spelling before you can think about trying to get published. Spelling errors I’ve spotted include “your/you’re”, “to/too” and “there/their”. You ought to use paragraphs more, and (normally) have each person’s speech or dialogue on a separate line, as otherwise it can be rather confusing about who is saying what. A particular bugbear of mine is the lack of conjunctions in so many people’s writing these days; it is not enough to simply join parts of a sentence together with endless commas, and most things will read so much better if you subsitute a few simple words like “and”, “but” or “so.”

Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve tried a bit of a re-write-

(Original Version)

It was dark by the time I got home (I had just met my friends at the Kingfisher Inn, I‘d had tea there). my wife was out with friends, my five year old son was at a sleepover. I locked the front door and left the key in and I went straight to the kitchen. I filled up the kettle and turned it on (trust me, this was a normal day), I took a mug out of the cupboard and put a teabag in it. I went into the living room and turned on the lights and the T.V. “and in other news the 352nd Tactical Fighter Wing have been sent over West Germany to support the US Army units there-” I changed the channel, I knew all about the 352nd TFW. I was an F-15 pilot from that wing, although my squadron had to stay behind while the other two (328th and 486th) were at Bitburg AFB.

There was nothing on the other channels, just news and repeats, I turned the T.V. off and put the radio on and tuned it to my favourite station.

“Sometimes the simple life, ain’t so simple” the radio sang out (Runnin’ with the Devil by Van Halen).-Click- the kettle had turned itself off. I went back into the kitchen and poured the water into the mug, the clear water became a deep amber colour.

Rain started to fall, I could hear it hitting the roof, a muffled drumming noise. The doorbell rang, I unlocked and opened the front door. “Ey up Marco, you alright,” I said, “yeah, not to bad thanks”. “You bought the book,” I shut the door behind him, “who else is coming?” I asked, “er, Liam, Joe, Nathan, they’ll be here in a minute or two,” he sat down at the kitchen table. “What you quizzing us on tonight?” I asked, he tapped his nose, “secret mate, need to know,” he laughed.

A few minutes later Liam, Nathan and Matt arrived, we all sat round the kitchen table. There was a low rumble, it steadily increased I looked outside, the black shape of an E-4B NEACP appeared out of the overcast.

(Re-write)-

My wife was out with friends somewhere and my 5 year old son on a sleepover, so the house was dark and silent by the time I got home, but I’d enjoyed the tea with my own friends at the Kingfisher Inn. Locking the door and leaving the key in the lock, I made straight for the kitchen to make a cuppa. Kettle, mug, teabag, telly, I must have done it a million times, but at the end of a long day there was perhaps something a little comforting in the old routines.

“…and in other news…” the TV newsreader announced just as I got back into the living room, “…the 352nd Tactical Fighter Wing have been sent over to West Germany to support the US Army units there-”

Typical journalist, I thought; Paint themselves as so bloody informed and authorative, but in truth only give you half the story.

“No, Dickhead,” I corrected him out loud, pleased (momentarily, at least) to be alone in the house; “Just two of the 352nd’s three squadrons have forward-deployed to Bitburg. The third squadron is -sadly- still champing at the bit back at at sunny old RAF Weystone.” I should know, I thought bitterly, as an F-15 jock with that very squadron. Still wouldn’t want be with anyone else, though; best fighter unit in the whole USAF, and still lucky to be flying the mighty Eagle. Even after all these years nobody had ever bested one in A2A.

I jabbed ever more impatiently at the remote trying to find something worth watching, but it was all just more so-called news and repeats of stuff I’d never have watched in the first place. Funny how we’re supposed to have so much choice with all these new channels nowadays, and yet they’re still just full of the same old rubbish. Maybe that’s why it’s called a “remote,” because that’s your chance of finding anything worthwhile with it. Rather than just sit listening to that suffocating, all-enveloping silence I put the radio on instead, and bingo; the Van Halen masterpiece “Runnin’ with the Devil.” As much a classic as my old twin-tailed bird of prey. About the same vintage too, come to think of it. Maybe the Seventies weren’t so bad after all. Over the car horn intro I heard the kettle click off and went back into the kitchen to make the tea, lingering over that moment when the tea suffuses the water with that lovely warm amber colour. Heaven in a cup.

The rain that had been threatening all day suddenly arrived, making a drumming noise on the roof almost like hail. A couple of minutes later I heard a string of muttered oaths accompanied by footsteps running up the path, and the thought crossed my mind to open the door on the chain and pretend I didn’t know who it was. I’m still not sure why I didn’t; must be getting soft in my old age.

“Hey up, Marco,” I said. “You alright?”

“Yeah, not too bad” he said grudgingly, handing me a soggy, dripping coat at arms-length.

“I see you brought the book, then? Who else is coming?”

“Usual suspects; Liam, Joe, Nathan. Should be here in a minute” he suggested, peering back out into the swirling rain. It was beginning to look like it might even thunder. “I do hope they don’t get too wet,” he added with a wicked smirk.

“What you quizzing us on tonight, then?” I ventured, hoping to steal a lead with a bit of mental swotting while we waited for the others.

“Need to know basis, old chap,” he scolded, trying to sound like some fusty old spymaster; “Need to know.”

We both looked up at the approaching sound of a heavy aircraft, and like little boys almost pushed each other over as we ran to the window, just in time to see an E-4B scudding in and out of the murk. The press loved to call it the “Doomsday Plane” and for the first time it didn’t sound totally fatuous. The political situation was becoming steadily more ominous and unsettling all the time, and I was glad not to be alone on such a filthy night.
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No matter how heavily fortified a door may be, it usually only takes one push with the foot to smash it off its hinges.

Another morning where I wake up at stupid AM, long before I really need to!

I know exactly what you mean, Daz. During the daytime I feel like I could sleep for a million years, but come bedtime…