Tag Archives: Online Writing

ReadWave And The Debate On Freebies

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A couple of months ago I went to the “launch” of a new web site… ReadWave which has been set up in association with Circalit

It’s a place to upload your short stories, extracts from novels etc, and is read by agents and publishers. ReadWave are very proud of the fact that they have had examples of contributors being contacted by industry professionals because of work placed on the site.

I joined up the day after the launch party, but it was only a couple of days ago (prompted by a comment one if my friends made on FaceBook and the fact that there isn’t much of my stuff online) that I decided to upload a story. It’s one I’ve had knocking about for a while so I’ll be interested to see the feedback I receive…..which has been very positive so far 🙂

Here’s my story “Eating Out” on their page:

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And if you want to go have a read you’ll find it HERE 🙂 Please leave a comment if you liked it.

This does beg that age old question…should a writer make their work available for free? Personally, I think the odd short story or extract is fine, because it’s promotion and many writers have found that its led to a publishing deal. But what do you think? Do you make any of your work available free online? Or are you anti freebies?

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Six Sentence Sunday 18th November

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Thank you for all your comments yesterday. It’s really interesting to hear how you all work 🙂

Today’s 6 sentences come from an exercise I did in my Faber class the week before last. The idea was to imagine you’re walking into a house and describe what you see…..

The hallway was a sensory overload. The muddy tones of the paisley carpet battled against the tiny delicate flowers that covered the walls. The ceiling and woodwork, painted white, a welcome reprieve to the eyes.

Turning into the dining room the carpet continued, but the walls were now a deep shade of red. A blood bath to dine by. The furniture, reproduction deep mahogany, a homage to Victorian style.

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Who would live in a house like this?

Six Sentence Sunday 14th October

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I wrote this piece back in April 🙂

“I’m sorry Jan, but it needs to be said.”

“No, please Dave, that’s enough, you’ve made your point.”

Jan looked across the table at her father in law. When she’d first met him, 30 years ago, he’d been tall, strong, a real mans man. But now, sitting at her kitchen table he reminded her of a frightened child, the roles reversed. The shell of the man he once was, living in their house because Dave’s sister couldn’t cope.

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Image courtesy of stockimages/freedigitalimages

Poor Jan….the poor father in law….I don’t think Dave has got much patience, do you?

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Oooooo, Look!

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Paula Acton and Dianne Gray have both tagged me in the Look! Challenge 🙂 Thank you so much ladies!

“The idea is to locate the word ‘look’ in whatever manuscript you have lying around and post the few previous and following paragraphs and then invite other authors to do the same.”

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So I’ve been rummaging through my notebooks, trying to find a pice of writing that includes the word “look” lol. Its not a word I use very often (is that good or bad? Lol). And finally I’ve found something 🙂 This is the prologue of my abandoned MS, But Not Forgotten. It’s also part of the piece I sent to Faber.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes just before the moment you die,
but Daniel Hopwood’s had been flashing before his eyes for weeks now. He couldn’t
eat, couldn’t sleep. He knew his options, none of which were appealing. He’d lived
with the guilt for years, coped with it, but now, time was running out.

Unlocking the drawer of his desk he took out the carefully wrapped revolver. It
felt cold and heavy in his hands. It had been a while since he’d felt that feeling of
power.

Looking at the photos on his desk, Daniel smiled. His darling wife Laura, and Ruby, their daughter. Happy family memories of holidays and birthdays. His girls
were his reason for living. He existed to love them and care for them…but now, he
couldn’t risk them hating him. Everything Daniel had ever done, was for them,
they were his world, and he couldn’t bear not be a part of their lives.

He put the gun to his throat, the barrel pointing upwards and stood up. He had
never been a coward, it wasn’t his way, but yes, now, he would take the cowards way
out, rather than face up to what he’d done. It was the only choice he had left. The
cold metal on his face was comforting, and as he pulled the trigger he closed his
eyes and pictured happy times on the beach, when Ruby was five.

The pain was brief.

I’m suppose to tag fellow bloggers to take part, but I’m just gunna say, if you want to play, please do 🙂

And by the way, is there a lack of the word “look” in your work, or do you use it on a regular basis? Am I in fact a weirdo? Lol 😉

Waving, Not Drowning

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Inspired by Saturdays photo prompt…..

Marisha stood on the damp sand and stared out to sea. Normally, on a clear day, you could see Essex. But not today, as a dense bank of fog swept its way, creeping silently up the Thames Estuary. She shivered, as her skin was splattered with fine droplets of water, spray from the waves. Invisible to the naked eye, but picked up by every hair on her bare arms.

She walked slowly towards the water. Stumbling on stones that shifted beneath her bare feet. Every few steps she winced, as something sharp met with her sole.

Stopping at the edge of the murky waves she watched the water lap at her feet, beckoning her forward. Glancing around, she checked to make sure she was alone. It was unusual for anyone to be on this part of the beach in October, especially at 6am.

Her teeth chattered as the water lapped at her ankles. The biting cold was painful. It felt like the waves could reach through her skin to her bones. With her long black hair trailing behind her she walked forward until the water was up to her waist. Just a few steps more, that was all it would take. She found herself wondering which one would end her 18 years? The water or the bitter cold?

A dog barked in the distance. She turned, and for a brief moment panicked, losing her courage. Whoever said this was the cowards way out? But what was the alternative? Go back home? No, she couldn’t bare to bring so much shame on her family. She was still in shock that her father had actually had her followed. When he threw the photographs at her and called her a whore she had fled the house. Tears welled I’m her eyes when she thought of Tom. The photos had shown their brief kiss. That was all it had been.

She’d known the risks when she’d agreed to go on the secret date. Tom was nice, she’d known him since school. when he’d asked her to go to the cinema, she’d jumped at the chance. Marisha just wanted to be like any other English girl, but deep down she knew she never could be. It had all been a fantasy. For Marisha had been promised to a Prince, since the day she was born.

Rather than give you a photo today I thought I’d embed this. It’s a video I took about a year ago. A place called Allhallows, where I use to spend all my holidays as a child. It’s in Kent, and on a clear day you can see Essex 🙂

Awwwww, poor Marisha 😦 you know I just can’t help it lol. Who is the person with the dog? (I have my own theory) and will Marisha go through with it?

Any comments and suggestions are most welcome?

Six Sentence Sunday 7th October

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Today’s six sentences come from a piece I wrote a couple of weeks ago.

Paula stood in the empty dining room and smiled. Finally, the house was hers. It had taken months of negotiations, solicitors, and that awful nephew, who got greedier and greedier as the weeks dragged on.

Paula pitied him. The deceased owner had loved this house, it had meant more to her than money. If only he’d taken such an interest in his aunt when she’d been alive.

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I’m thinking that this could actually be the start of a romance. What reason could there be for “the nephew” being greedy?

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The Long & The Short Of It – How Learning My Craft Has Changed My Life

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Today, I’m guesting over at Sue Howe’s blog The Long and The Short Of It 🙂

Sue asked me if I could do an article about writing workshops, classes and residential schools. I’m trying to convince her to come along to Swanwick you see 😉

So here’s the start of the article…..to read more you’ll have to nip over to Sue’s gaff 🙂

A huge thank you to Sue for inviting me onto her Blog today….I don’t think she realised that when I’m enthusiastic about something, I can ramble for hours!

So Sue’s asked me to convince her of the merits of creative writing courses, classes and workshops. I’m hoping that by the time she reads this she’ll be enrolling on everything she comes across!

My first experience of “creative writing” was a baptism of fire. I decided (through madness or stupidity, I still don’t know which) to accompany a friend to a course at our local Adult Education centre. I hadn’t written any fiction since leaving school (many, ahem, years ago) although I had been journal writing for several years. That was exactly 2 years ago this month, and it was one of the best decisions of my life! I’ll be honest; the course itself was a little boring. I found myself nodding off in several sessions! But somehow, through all the yawning something clicked. Something happened to me during that short course, and it’s been driving me on ever since.

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Please pop over to Sues blog to read the rest of the article, and leave a comment. Tell her Sue, you have to go to Swanwick next year! 😉 Actually, thinking about it, you all have to come! 😉

Priceless Gift

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This is the piece I wrote in response to the photo prompt of the locket on Saturday 🙂

Hope you like it, and any suggestions, or comments are as always, gratefully received.

Sophia sat with her back pressed firmly against the chair and watched, with a blazing jealousy, the scene in front of her.

Did he know she would be here today? Was that why he’d brought that whore here? To make her jealous?

She lifted her coffee cup and took a sip, her eyes fixed on the table in the corner.

James looked good, but then he always did. He playfully flicked a strand of hair from his companions face. Sophia felt instantly sick. She thought about where that hand had been. The parts of her he had explored with his fingers only last week.

Feeling the anger rising in her chest, pushing hatred into her throat she took another mouthful of coffee. But it was no use, no amount of sweet hot liquid would be able to eradicate the bitter taste that had developed in her mouth.

Clutching the gold locket at her neck she glared at the slim attractive women who was now laughing. Willing her to turn around, but she was too engrossed in James. Too caught up in lust to be aware of anyone else in the cafe.

James fumbled in his jeans pocket as his guest rose to her feet. Sophia grabbed her bag and flung it over her shoulder, shifting to the edge of her seat.

The red head kissed James on the cheek and tottered on her six inch heels in the direction of the ladies. With head down, Sophia stood, and followed her into the toilets.

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Oh come on, you know I don’t do happy? Did you really expect anything else? Lol 😉

In my mind I was thinking along the lines that Sophia is one of those women who James can pick up and put down whenever he wants, a shag buddy, but in his eyes, nothing more. She’s not slim and attractive, but she is available. Lets face it, Sophia is in love with him, and in her eyes, its not his fault, its all these gorgeous women who keep throwing themselves at him. James bought her the locket as a gift out of guilt, Sophia thinks that it means they have a future, if only these other women would leave him alone. But the question is……

What does she intend to do in the toilets? 😉

Six Sentence Sunday 23rd September

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Here are my six sentences 🙂

Douglas ran his fingers through his chestnut brown curls and sighed.

“But you promised Douglas.” Nancy whined.

“I know, I know, but what do you expect me to do love?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I hate this place!”

Douglas winced as Nancy stormed from the kitchen, slamming the door and stomped up the stairs.

Awwwww, poor Douglas lol. Nancy is one of them trophy wives, and when she doesn’t get her way, Douglas ends up on the sofa lol. She wants one of those swanky new apartments down on the river, but Douglas is running out of dosh, and fast…..she’s bleeding him dry.

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So what should Douglas do? Which in my reckoning probably isn’t what he will do 😉

New York New York

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This is the piece that I wrote for the photo prompt I posted last Saturday 🙂

Stefano arrived in New York with 50 dollars in his pocket, a back pack and a small scrap of paper, on which his Mama had written his uncles address.

He soon found the restaurant, Casa Mia, along a road filled with Italian Deli’s, shops and Cafe’s. He pushed open the heavy oak door.

“Stefano!” An elderly man with white hair rushed towards him and enveloped him in a welcoming embrace.

“Uncle Roberto?”

“My boy, my boy, si, si.”

Stefano returned the hug and began to talk in Italian, but Roberto held up his hand.

“No Stefano, English, we is in America now.”

“Sorry uncle, you received Mama’s letter?”

“Yes, yes, please, sit.” Roberto put his arm around Stefano’s shoulders and guided him to a chair. As he sat down opposite he shook his head.

“Such a catastrophe, such a sad event that you should come here.”

Stefano hung his head, he could feel the tears pricking his eyes.

“Your father was a good man, yes? A good man for my sister.” He sighed. “But, this has brought you to me, yes? Your Mama says you can cook?”

“I…err…well, a little uncle.”

Roberto laughed. “Ahhhh…no more farming for you Stefano. Now, you come to America, be famous chef, yes?”

It was now Stefano’s turn to laugh. “We’ll see uncle, we’ll see.”

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photo courtesy of Carlos Porto/freedigitalphotos

I have a bit of a thing about Italians, have you noticed? Lol 😉 Must be something to do with my Italian blood (my great grandparents were Italian Trapeze artists….how cool is that?).

Anyway, I like Stefano, I think this one could definitely end up a very happy story (that makes a change!!!!!!). I’m thinking Stefano turns out to be an excellent chef and really turns the restaurant around. But his cousin (Giovanni) is not happy (bit of conflict is always good)
and is worried that Roberto will hand the business over to Stefano (as he’s getting a bit too old to run the place). What actually happens in the end is anyone’s guess 😉

But, how did the dialogue seem? Any tips to getting across an Italian accent would be much appreciated 🙂

Edited to add commas as per Dianne’s suggestion – See below