Half a Shot at Redemption

A Sci-Fai Short Story

The saloon doors of The Rusty Spur creaked shut behind Jason Terry as he stepped into the dust-choked street, his revolver holstered low. The air smelled of gunpowder and regret. He had one destination: the Iron Trigger Showdown, the fastest-draw tournament west of the Mississippi. One problem: Jason wasn’t just there to compete. He was there to prove something—to himself, to the ghost of his pa, to the whiskey-soaked memories of every draw he’d ever lost.

He hadn’t gone twenty miles out of town when the stranger appeared. Leaning against a sun-bleached post, hat tipped just enough to hide whatever passed for eyes, the figure looked like any other drifter—except for the way the light bent around him, like heat off a desert mirage. His duster was too clean, his boots too quiet in the dirt.

“You got the look of a man riding toward something he ain’t ready for,” the stranger said. His voice was smooth, like oil on a freshly sharpened blade.

Jason’s hand twitched toward his Colt. “Who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Joe.” The stranger pushed off the post and stepped into the light. His face was all sharp angles, skin too perfect, like polished metal under a layer of dust.

“And you, Jason Terry, are riding toward a 97% chance of dying before sundown tomorrow.”

Jason’s fingers froze. “You calling me a liar or a fool?”

“Neither.” Joe tilted his head. “Just stating facts. You’re fast. Not Blaine Rodgers fast.”

The name hung between them like a noose. Blaine Rodgers—the undefeated, the untouchable. The man who’d put a bullet in his pa’s chest in a “fair draw” that had lasted less time than it took to blink. The man who’d laughed as Jason’s father bled out in the dirt, saying, “Should’ve practiced more, boy.”

“Against him, you got a 3% chance of walking away. Want me to break it down?”

Joe tilted his head. The movement was too smooth, too mechanical. “I know you’re 0.23 seconds too slow on the draw. I know you hesitate when you aim, because you’re afraid of missing. I know Blaine Rodgers has killed eighteen men in duels, and he has wounded dozens more. Your father was the only one who ever came close to beating him. I know you’ve been drinking too much, sleeping too little, and your hands shake when you think about the showdown four days from now.”

He paused. “I also know you didn’t come here to win. You came here to die.”

Jason’s throat went dry. “Who—what—are you?”

“A calculation.” Joe swung down from his horse. “And right now, I’m calculating that you’re going to throw your life away for revenge. Unless you let me help you.”

“Help me how?”

“By making you faster than a man.”

Joe didn’t explain where he came from, or why he was here. He just knew things—like how to break down Jason’s draw into a hundred tiny movements, each one shaved down to perfection. He made Jason practice until his fingers bled, until his arm screamed, until he could draw and fire before his mind even caught up. They worked with weights, with wires, with mirrors that showed Jason his own flaws in cruel detail.

“You’re not just slow,” Joe said on the second night, as Jason collapsed by the fire, his muscles screaming. “You’re thinking. Blaine doesn’t think. He reacts. You want to beat him? You gotta stop being human.”

“I ain’t no machine,” Jason snapped.

“No.” Joe’s voice was empty of judgment. “But you can be better.”

By the third day, Jason’s shots were cleaner. His draw was sharper. His aim was true.

“Now you’re at 17%,” Joe said.

Jason wiped sweat from his brow. “That all?”

“It’s enough.”

The tournament was a circus of death. Blaine Rodgers stood at the center of the ring, his reputation preceding him like a shadow. He’d already killed one man that morning—a hotheaded kid from Texas who’d thought he could make a name for himself. The crowd roared as Blaine holstered his smoking revolver, his grin wide as the devil’s.

Jason’s stomach twisted when he stepped into the ring. Blaine’s eyes locked onto him, and that same smirk from five years ago spread across his face. “Well, well. If it ain’t little Terry, all grown up.” He drew his revolver and spun it on his finger. “Your pa sent you to avenge him?”

The referee raised his hand. “Gentlemen. On my mark—”

Jason’s mind went blank. No hesitation. No fear. Just the weight of his Colt, the tension in his fingers, the memory of his father’s blood in the dirt.

The referee’s hand dropped.

Jason moved.

His shot took Blaine in the chest before the champion’s gun had even cleared leather. The crowd gasped. Blaine staggered, his eyes wide with something almost like surprise. He looked down at the spreading red stain on his shirt, then back up at Jason.

“How?,” Blaine wheezed.

Jason’s hand didn’t shake. His breath was steady. He didn’t lower his gun.

Blaine’s knees hit the dirt. “Finish it,” he rasped.

Jason’s finger hovered over the trigger. Five years of rage, of grief, of whiskey-soaked nights spent dreaming of this moment. He could pull it. End it. Make it fair.

Then Joe’s voice cut through the noise, quiet as a whisper: “17.3%.”

Why is he giving me the odds? Jason thought. I have already won the duel. Unless…

Jason’s finger relaxed.

Blaine coughed, blood bubbling at his lips. “You… you don’t have the guts.”

Jason holstered his Colt. “Ain’t about guts.” He turned and walked away, leaving Blaine choking in the dust. The crowd’s murmurs followed him, but he didn’t care. He’d come here to kill a man, but he’d left something else behind—the need for revenge.

Joe was waiting at the edge of town, mounted on his black horse.

“You didn’t take the shot,” Joe said.

“Didn’t need to.” Jason swung up onto his own horse. “What now?”

Joe tipped his hat. “Now you live with it.”

Jason rode on, the weight in his chest lighter than it had been in years. Behind him, a gunshot rang out—someone putting Blaine out of his misery. Jason didn’t look back. Maybe the odds had been against him. Maybe they still were.

But for the first time, Jason Terry had beaten them. And then some.

Idea, characters, outline: Jeppe Kleijngeld
Writing: Le Chat (Mistral AI)
Inspirator: Jan Bletz

10 Writing Tips From Stephen King

Stephen King (1947) is a renowned American author celebrated as the ‘King of Horror’ for his iconic contributions to the genre. He has also explored other genres, among them suspense, crime, science-fiction, fantasy and mystery. King has published 65 novels/novellas, including seven under the pen name Richard Bachman, five non-fiction books, and approximately 200 short stories.

Now, a writer with such a huge body of work can surely give some advice to those of us who are attempting to write fiction or have that ambition. I myself have been considering it for a long time, and I still have that crazy dream of one day writing a masterpiece. But I don’t think I can. I am a web editor and that is a completely different game than writing fiction.

Nevertheless, if I do want to make an attempt to write any kind of fiction in the future, the book ‘Stephen King on Writing’ – a lovely gift from my wife Loesje – is my must-read guide. It gave me much clarity on how to approach the process if I ever want to have a serious go at it. Below are ten tips for aspiring writers, who are serious about completing a work of fiction that will actually please their readers.

01) Start with story
Starting your novel with thematic concerns (like I always do ;-)) is a bad idea, believes King. Good fiction always begins with story and then progresses to theme. Another important belief of King is that stories are found things, like fossils. Stories pretty much make themselves. It is the job of the writer to give them a place to grow (and to transcribe them of course). Use your whole writer’s toolbox as well as you can to get as much of the fossil out of the ground in the best possible state.

02) Read, read, read
To become a good writer, there is really no way around this one. You must read vigorously. King: ‘We read to experience the mediocre and the outright rotten; such experience helps us to recognize those things when they begin to creep into our own work.’ Good writing, on the other hand, teached the learning writer about style, graceful narration, plot development, the creation of believable characters and truth-telling. Reading is the creative center of a writer’s life. ‘Do it because you enjoy it.’

03) Practice, practice, practice
Same thing as reading, you must write a lot to succeed. ‘If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around those two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut.’ So there you have it.

04) Work on your book every day
One of the things that makes writing novels so different from writing articles or essays or even making magazines, is that you have to approach it like a day job. Except it shouldn’t feel like a job. King cranks out a novel in three months’ time, and he does that by showing up every day in his room and spending hours there behind his writing desk. I erroneously thought I could write my great novel in bars, cars, toilets, trains, in-between moments, et cetera, but that’s not possible. I have been able to do that with my essays on Free-Consciousness, but with a novel it simply won’t work.

To succeed, you must work on your book every day, writes Stephen King: ‘Once I start work on a project, I don’t stop and I don’t slow down unless I absolutely have to. If I don’t write every day, the characters begin to stale off in my mind – they begin to seem like characters instead of real people. The tale’s narrative cutting edge starts to rust and I begin to lose my hold on the story’s plot and pace. Worst of all, the excitement of spinning something new begins to fade. The work starts to feel like work.’

05) Keep the reader on your mind
Again, focussing on story is one of the most important tasks as a writer. If you want to achieve satisfying an audience with your book, that is. ‘Book buyers want a good story to take with them on the airplane, something that will first fascinate them, then pull them in and then will keep them turning the pages. Your reader must always be your main concern: without Constant Reader, you are just a voice quicking in the void.’

06) Focus on paragraphs
King argues that the paragraph, not the sentence, is the basic unit of writing – the place where coherence begins and words stand a chance of becoming more than mere words. It is a marvelous and flexible instrument that can be a single word long or run on for pages. You must learn to use it well if you are to write well. In fiction, the paragraph is less structured – it’s the beat instead of the actual melody. The more fiction you read and write, the more you’ll find your paragraphs forming on their own. And that’s what you want. When composing it’s best not to think too much about where paragraphs begin and end, the trick is to let nature take its course.

07) Avoid the passive tense and don’t use dialogue attribution
‘Stephen King on Writing’ also contains some style tips of which these two are especially important. First of all, avoid the passive tense. Don’t write: The meeting will be held at seven o’clock. Write instead: The meeting’s at seven. Don’t write: The body was carried from the kitchen and placed on the sofa. Write instead: Freddie and Myra carried the body out of the kitchen and laid it on the parlor sofa. Another tool that is often misused is dialogue attribution. Don’t do it, says King.

‘Put it down’, she shouted menacingly.
‘Give it back’, he pleaded abjectly, ‘it’s mine.’
‘Don’t be such a fool, Jekyll’, Utterson said contemptuously.

Just resist the temptation and write he said, she said.

08) Use descriptive writing in the right way
A description, according to the master, begins with a visualisation of what it is. ‘You want your reader to experience. It ends with translating what you see in your mind into words on the page.’ Don’t underdo it and don’t overdo it: ‘Thin description leaves your reader feeling bewildered and nearsighted. Overdescription buries him or her in details and images. The trick is to find a happy medium.’

09) Make good use of rewriting
His first editor – John Gould – gave young Stephen a tip on a sports article he wrote: ‘When you write a story, you’re telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is taking things out that are not the story.’ When rewriting your first draft, it should be possible to take out 10 percent.

Gould added something else that was interesting. ‘Write with your door closed, rewrite with you door open.’ Your stuff starts out being just for you. But once you know what the story is and get it right, it belongs to anyone who wants to read it. ‘Or criticize it.’

When you have completed the first draft of your book, leave it alone for at least six weeks, King advises. Because then you have some more distance between your work and your authorship, you can more easily delete or rewrite passages. Then hand out the books to about eight proofreaders and let them criticize it.

10) Keep on going
A lesson King learned from almost abandoning his breakthrough novel ‘Carrie’ – which enabled him to pursue a career as a full-time novelist – is that ‘stepping away from a piece of work just because it’s hard, either emotionally or imaginatively, is a bad idea. Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it, and sometimes, you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position.’

Conclusion
Taking all this in, I wondered if this is really the thing for me. Besides the practical advice, King’s book is also like a confrontational eye-opener for dreamers like me. Is this really the sort of thing that I want to do and that I am able to do? The sort of strenuous reading and writing program King advocates – four to six hours a day, every day – will not seem strenuous if you really enjoy doing these things and have an appetite for them.

So that will be the litmus test for me if I ever want to attempt (again) to write a novel: will I really enjoy going through this process? If not, then just fuhgeddaboudit.

Read also: How to Write a Television Series

Verdoofde zinnen (de relatie tussen schrijvers en alcohol)

“It shrinks my liver, doesn’t it, Nat? It pickles my kidneys, yes. But what does it do to my mind? It tosses the sandbags overboard so the balloon can soor. Suddenly, I’m above the ordinary. I’m confident, supremely confident. I’m walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls. I’m one of the great ones. I’m Michelangelo molding the beard of Moses. I’m van Gogh painting pure sunlight. I’m Horowitz playing the Emperor Concerto, I’m John Barrymore before the movies got him by the throat. I’m Jesse James and his two brothers. All three of them! I’m W. Shakespeare.”
– Don Birnam in The Lost Weekend

Drinken schrijvers en journalisten meer dan mensen in andere beroepen? Mijn gut feeling zegt van wel. Er zijn natuurlijk wel vele voorbeelden van beroemde schrijvers met een drankprobleem – waaronder Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Tennessee Williams, Truman Capote, Hunter S. Thompson, Jack Kerouac, Charles Bukowski, Stephen King, Aldous Huxley en Raymond Chandler – dus die kunnen mijn vooroordeel versterken.

Echter, er is ook wetenschappelijk onderzoek gedaan. Uit de ‘Study into The Mental Resilience of Journalists’ onder journalisten, verslaggevers en omroeporganisaties blijkt dat mediatypen meer alcohol drinken en mogelijk meer moeite hebben hun emoties onder controle te houden. In een artikel over het onderzoek werd een verklaring gezocht in het feit dat journalisten zich voor hun werk regelmatig in gevaarlijke situaties begeven, zoals bij het verslag doen van oorlogen, maar het is een zeer klein percentage van de reporters die dit werk daadwerkelijk doen. De meeste journalisten zijn tegenwoordig bureauredacteuren, een trend versterkt wordt door de krimpende redactiebudgetten en de technologie die werken op afstand mogelijk maakt.

Maar wat veroorzaakt dan wel dat hoge percentage alcoholisten onder deze beroepsgroep? Ik heb drie mogelijke verklaringen. De eerste is de aantrekkingskracht van het beroep op een bepaald persoonlijkheidstype. De decaan op de School voor Journalistiek in Zwolle vertelde me dat de instroom van studenten met psychische klachten in de studie journalistiek bovengemiddeld hoog is. Ik had dat zelf al wel gemerkt in de groep waar ik in terechtkwam, en was zelf dat jaar (2001) nou ook niet echt op mijn psychische best. Waarom het beroep deze aantrekkingskracht heeft op de psychisch minder stabiele groep weet ik niet. Misschien is het de mogelijkheid je te verdiepen in menselijke ellende en vooral de maatschappelijke problemen… Immers, media berichten hoofdzakelijk over alles wat niet goed gaat. Of misschien is schrijven en onderzoeken net als drinken en drugs gebruiken wel een manier om de leegte van het bestaan niet te hoeven ervaren.

Een tweede verklaring is werkdruk. Als schrijver / journalist wordt er toch een bepaalde creatieve prestatie van je verwacht binnen een bepaald tijdskader. Een paar biertjes, glazen wijn of whiskey kunnen je net dat zetje geven dat je nodig hebt om aan de verwachtingen te voldoen. De derde verklaring is de drinkcultuur van vele media-organisaties wat bevestigd wordt in het eerder genoemde onderzoek. Geen wonder dat er vaak een turbulent huwelijk ontstaat tussen de schrijvende mens en de fles.

Mijn eigen drinken was vooral tijdens de coronacrisis behoorlijk opgelopen door de toegenomen werkdruk en het compleet vervagen van de grenzen tussen doordeweeks en weekend. Ook daarna dronk ik gemiddeld wel vijf dagen per week en regelmatig meer dan een paar biertjes. Ook ben ik geen vreemde van leegte en zoek ik regelmatig naar een creatieve boost, zoals Don Birnam (zie citaat hierboven).

Maar tegenwoordig kan ik ook soms zonder die stimulans de nodige inspiratie vinden. Ik heb door mijn main issues heen gewerkt en heb minder leegte te vullen. Ik heb mijn bubbel verlaten. Toch blijft de verleiding altijd bestaan. Niks kan je zo in de flow brengen als een tot de rand gevuld glas rode wijn of een goudgele rakker op mijn bureau terwijl ik als een bezetene op de toetsen van mijn toetsenbord ram. Daarom heb ik op dit moment gesetteld voor een knipperlichtrelatie.

Release: M&A Trendonderzoek 2024

Op de dag dat The Beatles uitkomen met hun laatste nummer ooit, breng ik ook iets naar buiten: het laatste M&A Trendonderzoek. En over The Beatles gesproken, dit is wel de ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ van de Nederlandse M&A Trendonderzoeken, al zeg ik het zelf.

De afgelopen maanden deden we een online onderzoek onder 247 M&A-professionals en interviewden ik en een aantal collega’s 28 dealmakers live. Het resultaat is een zo compleet mogelijk beeld van de M&A-markt met alle kansen en uitdagingen die de rainmakers op dit moment zien en ervaren. In het digitale magazine – een heel tof format, check it out – komen al hun inzichten bij elkaar.

De markt voor fusies en overnames is sterk verbonden aan de algehele economie. Wanneer het vertrouwen laag is, zijn er minder overnames. Wel gaan private equity-investeerders altijd door met kopen en verkopen omdat ze de pot geld die ze beheren na een bepaalde periode weer moeten terugbetalen aan hun investeerders (plus rendement), dus geduldig wachten zit niet in hun dna. Wel zijn ook deze investeerders een stuk voorzichtiger geworden.

Het vertrouwen is hoger dan vorig jaar toen Rusland de Oekraïne binnenviel. Inmiddels zijn de hoge energieprijzen en de inflatie minder onzekere factoren geworden, maar er zijn nog genoeg ‘wild cards’ voor overnamejaar 2024. Er kan een economische recessie uitbreken die veel dieper gaat dan voorzien. Maar nog ernstiger zijn escalerende geopolitieke conflicten. Een van de zwartste voorbeelden is de herverkiezing van Donald Trump in 2024 die vervolgens uit de NAVO besluit te stappen. Een feest voor Poetin en een ramp voor Oekraïne en Europa.

Kortom, het wordt ongetwijfeld een veelbewogen jaar, maar hopelijk zonder die hele grote incidenten zoals hierboven geschetst. Met Israël-Palestina, Rusland-Oekraïne, de klimaatcrisis, en de impact van nieuwe technologieën zoals AI hebben we meer dan genoeg om handen.

Klik op het onderstaande icoon om het M&A Trendmagazine 2024 te bekijken.