Yesterday I started with "It was the longest day she could remember" and got a space story. Today I wrote a story about the dangers of crocheted socks. I wonder what tomorrow's story will be.
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 02, 2012
Not Editing!
Yesterday I started with "It was the longest day she could remember" and got a space story. Today I wrote a story about the dangers of crocheted socks. I wonder what tomorrow's story will be.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
The Christmas Fairy
I don't often put fiction up, but I thought I'd do a voice recording for you. The text of the recording is over at Podbean and you can see it here. I'm sorry that the recording levels go off every so often. When I tried to re-record the duff parts I ended up deleting everything so in the end I had to let it stand!
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
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Win a story critique
