The clocks went back today and the evenings will be dark now. We're getting into firework season and the cats will have to be kept in early. Xmas approaches and I've already missed overseas posting dates.
Only three days left to NaNoWriMo
Last year I ignored it and the year before I tried editing instead of writing. I didn't feel I gained much by either strategy. So this year I will again attempt to write a 50k word story in a month. Go me!
I have characters, a world, and some sort of shambolic plot. I also have aliens, lots of lovely aliens. I mean what's not to like?
I've looked back over past efforts and I liked bits of what I'd written. I have a particular fondness for the scene with the chicken suit and the random penguin.
I will never be a professional author because I'm not willing to put in the time and discipline needed but writing is my hobby and it's the chance to really get into it once a year.
I haven't made it to 50k every year I've tried so it remains a real challenge, and this month I'm starting a new volunteer job with Beanstalk, as well as having a lot of family commitments.
No one ever said it would be easy. Wish me luck!
Showing posts with label my writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my writing. Show all posts
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Friday, October 06, 2017
The Fall
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.”
Not here. Not now.
The wind whips leaves from the trees
In showers of red, orange, yellow.
They carpet the ground with softness, damp and yielding underfoot.
Horse chestnut trees scatter their spiky husks,
And here is a conker:
Round shiny treasure like polished mahogany
Sitting abandoned on the soggy leaves
But not for long.
Children will take it to its new home.
Now the rain comes
Sideways in the buffeting wind.
Head, neck, trousers cold and colder
As we run for home.
Later we look out through rain-flooded windows
Hot tea in hand
At the October storm that is stripping the trees
Naked.
What else will fall?
Autumn is not a gentle season
In England
Now.
Not here. Not now.
The wind whips leaves from the trees
In showers of red, orange, yellow.
They carpet the ground with softness, damp and yielding underfoot.
Horse chestnut trees scatter their spiky husks,
And here is a conker:
Round shiny treasure like polished mahogany
Sitting abandoned on the soggy leaves
But not for long.
Children will take it to its new home.
Now the rain comes
Sideways in the buffeting wind.
Head, neck, trousers cold and colder
As we run for home.
Later we look out through rain-flooded windows
Hot tea in hand
At the October storm that is stripping the trees
Naked.
What else will fall?
Autumn is not a gentle season
In England
Now.
Sunday, May 06, 2012
A Cat Story
I'm still writing a story a day and today was a cat story, about a cat not unlike Rufus. He's called Hubert and I may use him again!
All these short stories feel like small ideas that I could work on later, maybe when a competition comes up. I only seem to write when there's some outside stimulus so I need to find a way to motivate myself that doesn't involve other people.
Or maybe not. For me writing is a hobby; if I only enjoy it in company then it doesn't really matter.
Saturday, June 05, 2010
The voice thingie
You'll notice my masterful command of the English language in the post title. It can only get better.
Pacatrue has started us on a round of blog voice thingies and mine is below. For a full list of participants you can go here.
This is mine. It's a bit hissy and a bit rushed. I'll have to rely on my English accent to woo you! (Not so effective with other English people, sadly.)
[edited to add: I've just found out that I didn't have the mike plugged in. No wonder it was hissy! Here's a cleaner version. The old one is at the end in case you want to know what the original commenters heard.)
Here's the text of the story if you want to follow along:
The small shop was full of customers poking around in the mixed nuts and searching for vitamins on the long shelves. Tracy was on her own again and she was struggling to serve the long queue of customers when a young lad in a hoodie came in. He went straight to the shop’s one blind spot and soon after there was a loud crash.
Tracy sighed and ducked under the counter. The middle-aged man whose pile of body-building tubs was still only half rung up tapped his fingers loudly on the counter. A woman at the back of the line frowned into the biscuit aisle with pursed lips.
It was always like this when the manager left early. Only last week Tracy had found a young boy stuffing sugar free sweets into his pockets. The security guard had let him off with a warning and banned him from the shop but Tracy would have prosecuted him if she’d had her way. Young people today were all the same.
At the back of the shop, she found the youth bending over with his hand on the neck of an elderly woman who was lying in a heap on the floor. Tracy could feel her heart thumping. Surely not a mugging this time. She couldn’t see a knife but still. Her voice squeaked as she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“She’s got a pulse,” the boy said, “I think she’s just fainted. We ought to loosen her clothing.” He flushed and moved back slightly. Not a mugger then but a rescuer and a shy one at that.
“I’ll open her collar,” Tracy said. “You call the ambulance.” Maybe there was hope for the younger generation after all.
Original version
Pacatrue has started us on a round of blog voice thingies and mine is below. For a full list of participants you can go here.
This is mine. It's a bit hissy and a bit rushed. I'll have to rely on my English accent to woo you! (Not so effective with other English people, sadly.)
[edited to add: I've just found out that I didn't have the mike plugged in. No wonder it was hissy! Here's a cleaner version. The old one is at the end in case you want to know what the original commenters heard.)
Here's the text of the story if you want to follow along:
The small shop was full of customers poking around in the mixed nuts and searching for vitamins on the long shelves. Tracy was on her own again and she was struggling to serve the long queue of customers when a young lad in a hoodie came in. He went straight to the shop’s one blind spot and soon after there was a loud crash.
Tracy sighed and ducked under the counter. The middle-aged man whose pile of body-building tubs was still only half rung up tapped his fingers loudly on the counter. A woman at the back of the line frowned into the biscuit aisle with pursed lips.
It was always like this when the manager left early. Only last week Tracy had found a young boy stuffing sugar free sweets into his pockets. The security guard had let him off with a warning and banned him from the shop but Tracy would have prosecuted him if she’d had her way. Young people today were all the same.
At the back of the shop, she found the youth bending over with his hand on the neck of an elderly woman who was lying in a heap on the floor. Tracy could feel her heart thumping. Surely not a mugging this time. She couldn’t see a knife but still. Her voice squeaked as she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“She’s got a pulse,” the boy said, “I think she’s just fainted. We ought to loosen her clothing.” He flushed and moved back slightly. Not a mugger then but a rescuer and a shy one at that.
“I’ll open her collar,” Tracy said. “You call the ambulance.” Maybe there was hope for the younger generation after all.
Original version
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Lost commas
If you've lost any commas I know where they are. I've discovered that I can get three into any sentence with no problems at all. I swear I spend more time removing commas than I do writing.
Do you have any writing quirks that irritate you?
Do you have any writing quirks that irritate you?
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Maria: a short story
Image by Colum LaVelle Photography from A Day In Hand website.
