Guest post: Two Word Story Starters by Roxanne Porter

Tonight’s guest blog post, on the topic of inspiration, is brought to you by Roxanne Porter.

Two Word Story Starters

Oftentimes, getting started is the hardest part. You know where you want your story to go. You even have a good grasp of who your characters are. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you just want to start writing and see where the muse takes you. Whatever style of writing you chose, whether planned ahead or just stream of consciousness, you need a start. Some place to begin.

With that in mind, I suggest the following: two word sentences. Just subject and verb and that’s it. Often the simplest starts are the best. Think “Call me Ishmael.” So, for your writing pleasure, here are five prompts to get you started.

Prompts:

1. He shuddered.

2. She froze.

3. They cringed.

4. We laughed.

5. It fell.

Example:

It fell. I watched it fall, frozen. I knew if, when, it hit the ground it would shatter into a million pieces. I knew the sound it would make, the knife-like crash that pierces your eardrums and signals that something has gone horribly wrong. And yet I couldn’t get myself to move; the tall, delicate goblet spinning through the air in slow motion as the marble floor rose up to meet it.

CRASH

Too late, I realized my mistake. That was the third glass I’d knocked over this week. She was waiting.

SWAT

The slap stung and I spun around with a hiss of pain and outrage.

“I can’t keep anything nice around here because of you!” she shrieked, making me wrinkle my nose in distaste. I couldn’t stand her voice.

“It’s not her fault, dear,” he said, picking me up, “She doesn’t know any better. She just likes shiny things.”

I rubbed my cheek against his. I liked him. He always smelled of the outdoors; of grass and trees and nice things. She stank like weeds.

The woman continued to talk but I ignored her, watching as she swept up the shiny shards I’d made. She looked up and glared at me.

I met her eyes, safe in his arms. Then I carelessly lifted a paw and licked it, completely ignoring her.

Maybe now she’d learned who ruled this home.

Thank you, Roxanne!

Roxanne Porter is a freelancer and regular contributor for http://www.nannyjobs.org.  She helps in providing knowledge about nanny services, and jobs to the community, and loves writing on nanny-related articles. You can be in touch with her at r.poter08@gmail.com.

***

If you would like to write a writing-related guest post for my blog then feel free to email me with an outline of what you would like to write about. If it’s writing-related then it’s highly likely I’d email back and say “yes please”.

The blog interviews return as normal tomorrow morning with food writer and private chef Isabel Hood – the five hundred and fourteenth of my blog interviews with novelists, poets, short story authors, bloggers, autobiographers and more. A list of interviewees (blogged and scheduled) can be found here. If you like what you read, please do go and investigate further. And I enjoy hearing from readers of my blog; do either leave a comment on the relevant interview (the interviewees love to hear from you too!) and / or email me.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me. I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are fortnightly episodes, usually released on Sundays, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 032: Police escort

The thirty-second prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales (my twenty-sixth story for them) was a photograph of the trunk and below is the result.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 619-worder, at Jean’s request, a follow-up to last week’s story Ocean drive.

Police escort

Watching the policeman in her rear view mirror, Rosie clicked the button to release the central locking and got out the car.

“Surprised you got here at all,” he said softly, kicking her flat tyre.

Rosie had watched enough TV to know his American accent to be Californian. “Me too,” she said, not meaning the car.

“But we’ll have away in no time.”

“No hurry,” she said and hoped he’d take all day. With the choice of views being him or the sea she could think of nowhere else she’d rather be.

“Do you have a spare?”

“No,” she said, knowing that her model of car didn’t come with one. “I thought they had to, by law, but apparently…”

“No problem,” he said. “You’re travelling a bit back-heavy? Got a body in there?” He laughed, exposing brilliant white teeth.

 Rosie had never been good at spontaneous laughter and didn’t think now was the time to try so just smiled and shook her head. “Moving house.”

“Oh, all your worldly possessions.”

“Yes,” she said quietly, picturing the heavy old chest that took up most of the boot.

The man stopped smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, really it is. New life, new start.”

“New man.”

Rosie didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “just here to fix your wheel. I’m new… I’ll shut up now and…”

“It’s OK, really it… I’ve said that already.”

“Don’t be nervous. It’s the uniform, I know, even makes me nervous.”

She laughed then, a natural laugh, and enjoyed it.

“That’s better,” the man said and held out his hand. “Bryan… Josh Bryan.”

As Rosie looked at him, she imagined him not in his uniform but in a dinner suit, sipping a cocktail that had been shaken not stirred, with a gun tucked discreetly under his jacket.

“I have some stuff in my trunk that’ll fix your car… what is it you Brits say? In a jiffy?

Rosie laughed again. “We’ve not said that since Jeeves and Wooster.”

“PG Wodehouse! You read?”

“I do… try to, when I have time.”

“I love the old ones. Really funny. Not as far back as Jane Austen, the romance, but…”

“You don’t like romance?” Rosie surprised them both with that question. “I mean, the classics.”

“20th Century is as old as I get. Still living there so my wife says.”

Rosie’s shoulders slumped.

“Ex wife, I should say. She’s still in the States. Couldn’t see why I would want to live here, but just look… the sea, the beach, the sun…”

“But don’t you have all that in California?”

“How did you know? Oh, the accent. Giveaway isn’t it. We do but it’s a different kind of sun. It’s… anyway, you’ll be wanting to go and we do need to fix your car.”

“We do.”

She watched him go the back of his patrol car, return with a yellow and black can, connect the tube to the air valve then reinflate the tyre. “Is that it?” she asked when he screwed the caps back on both the tyre and can.

“Not permanent. Should get you to the gas station.”

“Oh.”

“Of course, you won’t know one, will you? I’m finishing in a minute anyway, you can follow me.”

“Really?”

“Sure. There’s one just down from the PD… I mean police station, just down the road from the garage not gas station. I said I was new.”

Rosie smiled. “Thank you for everything. You’re very kind.”

Josh nodded and they returned to their cars.

Rosie followed him at just below the speed limit, without the sirens she’d hoped for but knew wouldn’t be warranted. It’s not every day you get a police escort and Rosie hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 031: Ocean Drive

The thirty-first prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales (my twenty-fifth story for them) was ‘ocean’ and below is the result.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 319-worder.

Ocean Drive

As Rosie drove over the hill and caught her first sight of the sea, The Lighthouse Family’s ‘Ocean Drive’ was playing on the radio. ‘It’s a sign,” she said to Bertie, her tabby, now meowing from his carrier on the passenger seat of her Suzuki Swift.

Escaping Trevor had taken seven years and nothing was going to spoil this moment. Looking in her rear view mirror at a clear road, she pulled into a layby and onto uneven gravel.

She sat for a few minutes, just thinking, staring at the cloudless sky and blue sea, a postcard in the making. Fishing around in her handbag, she found her camera. She’d come up here, she decided, whenever she could, at… she looked at the dashboard clock… midday, and take a photograph regardless of the weather. They’d remind her that however gloomy the photographs or things got, this had been the perfect start to the rest of her life.

Looking through the lens she was about to take the shot when there was a tap at the window. She flinched and dropped the camera into the footwell. She knew she had to turn round, had to look through the window, had to see the face.

“Be strong,” she whispered then flinched again as a second tap came.

Checking the central locking, which she knew to be secure, she slowly turned to her right and looked at the face. Heart thumping, Rosie recognised the uniform. “Oh no!” she said. Bertie whined in unison.

The man pointed down at the ground and said something inaudible.

Rosie pressed the button for the window, moved it down a couple of inches, but said nothing.

“Madam,” the man said, “you have a flat tyre. Want me to change it for you?”

Rosie looked at the stranger’s dark skin, pale green eyes and broad white smile, and knew she was going to like living by the sea.

***

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 030: Root of all evil

The thirtieth prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales (my twenty-fourth story for them) was ‘money’ and below is the result.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 387-worder which brings back Thelma and Eddie from Eddie’s fault and is written in second-person point of view.

Root of all evil

Thelma was your root of all evil, not money, although being poor most of the time didn’t help.

She’d wanted a new car and blamed you for not being able to afford one.

You’d wanted a dog but she’d only allowed you a cat, which you adore, but which she now hates even more, given that it was Tommy that made her swerve and hit her mother – you’re the easier one to blame.

It doesn’t take much for her to remind you that you had a good job – as if you’d ever forget – Manager then Director then lost the lot. She blamed you for not knowing what your Finance equivalent was doing when you were just selling the things.

You soon learned that no-one wants a 50-something salesman, however good you used to be. Thelma never appreciated that either.

You’d hidden it, like many do, same routine, only off to the library instead of PFT Engineering. When they came to collect your car just as you were going off to ‘work’ you could hide it no longer. After the initial eruption of Mount Thelma, she lay dormant, simmering like a slow cooker. Then she checked the savings account only to find less noughts than she’d expected. Lava flowed that day.

So you kept out of her way, doing up the garden, digging a hole for a lovely big pond.

Your trips to the library hadn’t been wasted though, the hours you’d spent researching methods.

She’d threatened you once too often and you’d finally flipped, although part of you had meant it. It had been quick, silent and she’d slumped to the floor, your petite wife losing her power in an instant.

With the neighbours of the only house to overlook your garden away in the Algarve you knew you could take your time burying her body, in the whole dug deeper than any pond, the lining material set in place just to be sure.

And now you have the house to yourself. When your neighbours return you’ll have filled the pond, be admiring your new fish when they pop in to thank Thelma for watering their plants. You’ll turn on the waterworks, tell them she’s left you and say you looked after the plants, then offer to look after their dog the next time they go away.

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 029: Sentimental keepsake

The twenty-ninth prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales (my twenty-third story for them) was ‘red’ and below is the result.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 536-worder.

Sentimental keepsake

It was the little girl in the red jacket that Eileen remembered the most from Schindler’s List.

She’d imagined it was her mother, she’d have been about the right age. She didn’t speak German, never had an interest in going there, and certainly wouldn’t watch any war movies, favouring comedies and the lightest of family dramas.

“Life is hard enough than to be reminded of it,” she’d say and Eileen knew she’d had her ups and downs but couldn’t imagine anything would have been as bad as that but understood living that era had been close enough, so didn’t press the matter.

It was too late to ask her now. Eileen wished she could turn the clock back a few months, to when they had their long conversations every other month when Eileen visited from her Scottish home. She should have persevered with the idea of Hilda writing her autobiography, recall those missing years hushed into the corners of her mind. Like an old house, the dust was swept aside, different memories uncovered during each visit. It was only in the last few months of her mother’s life that Eileen started to write things down, the last few weeks recorded on her dictaphone. She would recount previous conversations, to check her facts, only to be met by blank stares as if the events had happened to someone else. Even mention of Frank, who Eileen had been too young to remember, would merit a tilt of the head and the offer of another cup of tea.

Then a few weeks later Eileen had received the call she’d been dreading, travelled the journey long enough to dictate earlier conversations and the jobs ahead.

There followed the paperwork, the funeral, distant relatives giving their condolences to a woman they barely knew. Eileen had put her mother’s house on the market and set to the task of dividing her possessions between charity shop, skip and sentimental keepsakes.

In one of the drawers in the bedroom’s dresser, Eileen found an envelope containing a small silver key, with it a note of the bank and box number. Having lived frugal lives it was the last thing Eileen had expected so drove straight there and asked to see the box. She’d taken her mother’s death certificate and probate documentation and after a phone call and hushed conversation, the bank manager had introduced Eileen to his colleague who would show her the vault.

The man shut the door behind him, leaving Eileen alone surrounded by what felt like her school’s changing room, only the lockers would have held much poorer contents.

Eileen stared at the metal box and turned over the key in her hand. Like the room, it felt alien. Her box was one of the biggest and yet, she guessed, one of the lightest; not light enough to be empty but not containing weighty jewels, bonds or cash that she suspected the others housed.

The key glided into its hole and turned easily. Lifting the lid slowly, it made no noise but as Eileen let it fall backwards she leapt back as it clanked onto the hard counter top and exposed the contents within. Just one item: a child’s red woollen jacket.

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 028: A lot to learn

The twenty-eighth prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales (my twenty-second story for them) was ‘city’ and below is the result.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 933-worder.

A lot to learn

There was something about being a city vet that always appealed to Mark, something about the delight on the children’s faces when they saw a live animal, bigger than the stick insects, gerbils or cats they lived with.

Nothing, however, had prepared him for Brady ‘What’s that?’ Smith.

***

“No-one will take you seriously if you wear an Eyeore tie,” Emily, Mark’s girlfriend, had said that morning.

“I don’t want them to take me seriously, they’re children.”

“What about their teachers? Aren’t you supposed to be setting a good example?”

“AA Milne, Emily. There’s nothing more wholesome than Winnie the Pooh.”

“Eyeore.”

“Exactly.”

With that she’d kissed him goodbye and gone off to her first day with Clampett, Taylor and Browne.

Mark rinsed his cereal bowl, grabbed his black bag, dropped the flat’s Yale latch, then locked above and below it, something they’d never had to do at Broughton Heath.

As newlyweds they had little to steal but if the place didn’t look secure it was an open invitation – or so said Nick and Rachel who’d moved to London a couple of years before, and whose neighbours had both been burgled.

So after checks bordering on OCD, Mark took the no.27 bus making a mental note of the route so he could walk it home.

Entering the surgery immediately felt like home and Mark knew he’d made the right decision.

“Morning, Mark,” his new boss, Tom Sanderson, said before sipping a cup of steaming black coffee. “Want one?”

“Please.”

“If you’re quick, Josie will get it for you… kitchen on the left, from then on you make your own. We all do.”

“Sure. Thanks, Tom.”

“Good to have you on board. We’ve got Roehill Juniors today.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Tell me that again later and I’ll buy you a pint.”

“Deal,” Mark said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

***

Mug in hand, Mark was given a guided tour of the complex then shown to his office and given his itinerary for the day, with 10am ’til noon blocked out for the school visit. This left four early slots for patients; Muffin, a sock-swallowing Beagle; Roger, a sneezing rabbit (who it turns out was allergic to carrots); Daisy the Jack Russell for her first inoculations; and Henry the fat hamster who turned out to Henrietta and fat for a very specific reason.

Mark was writing up Henrietta’s notes when he heard loud voices coming from the car park. Pulling up his blind, he saw a congregation of royal blue-uniformed children running in circles, waving their hands and a couple playing patty cake. There were two teachers with them, a tall blonde lady and a shorter black woman who stopped suddenly, making a couple of the children bump into her, then blew a whistle, the children immediately standing to attention. With a click of her fingers the children formed an orderly line and followed her and her colleague round the corner, towards the building’s front door. Knowing he had a minute or two at most, he finished his notes, screen-locked the computer, and headed out into reception to meet them.

The children were standing gazing up their teachers, the blonde woman talking to one of the receptionists, Sylvie, who was pointing in Mark’s direction.

“Thanks Sylvie,” Mark said, and with a swoop of his arms, said, “Do follow me, ladies and gentlemen,” and the teachers escorted the children, one adult at either end.

Mark walked past his office and the consulting rooms, and through a back door. Some of the children gasped and looked around at the array of animals; the pigs, cows and chickens being the nearest enclosures. Mark turned to the two teachers. “Good morning, I’m Mark Sullivan. I’ll be your guide for today. Any questions at all just let me know.”

“By raising your hand,” the blonde teacher said to the group, then turned to Mark. “Erin Talbot, Mrs, and this is Mrs Jackson.”

“Pleased to meet you Mrs Talbot, Mrs Jackson.”

Mrs Jackson smiled briefly then clicked her fingers at a young boy who had started to wander off. “Keep in the group, Brady.”

The boy duly returned but looked around him rather than at her.

Unsure as to what the children wanted to know, Mark showed them the first pen, of a variety of chickens, and explained the different species, ensuring he didn’t get too technical.

The pigs followed next and while some of the children stayed with Mark, the rest went on to the cows with their two teachers.

Brady stood closest to the pigs, in front of Mark, and started emulating their noises.

“Very good… Brady, is it?”

The boy nodded.

“You like pigs?” Mark asked.

The boy shrugged his shoulders.

“You don’t know?”

Brady shook his head.

“I like pigs,” Mark said.

The boy said nothing but looked up at Mark.

“Do you eat bacon?”

The boy nodded eagerly.

“Ham sandwiches.”

He nodded again.

“Then you like pigs,” Mark said, trying to be helpful.

The boy frowned.

“Bacon… ham… come from pigs and…” Mark stopped talking when the boy screwed up his face and started bawling. Mark went to crouch down to him, to console him, but Brady ran towards Mrs Talbot and buried his face in her skirt.

Mrs Jackson stormed over to Mark. “What have you done?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Jackson but he didn’t seem to know what a pig was.”

“And you told him?”

“I am a vet.”

“And he’s just a boy.”

As Mark looked at Brady, he realised he had a lot to learn about children before he and Emily started a family.

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are fortnightly episodes, usually released on Sundays, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 027: Half-human

The twenty-seventh prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales (my twenty-first story for them) was a photograph of a limousine and a plane (with a 300-word limit) and below is the result.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 292-worder.

Half-human

Winning a luxury weekend for two to Paris, all expenses paid, should have been the thrill of a lifetime for Nicky until she realised she’d have to choose someone to go with her. Boyfriend, girlfriend, or mother.

Mother could be discounted quite easily, she would have assumed she’d be last choice, and wouldn’t even have to know.

Nicky’s girlfriends would be too engrossed in their own love lives to notice that she was away.

So that left boyfriend, but which boyfriend should she take? Graham who she’d known since school and was now more boring than watching a slug climb uphill; Terry her boss who would say “yes” but cancel at the last minute because his wife picked that weekend to drag him round Ikea; or Pierre, the sickly-smooth eye candy who came from the city of love and would jump at the chance to show her round his old stomping ground, probably bumping into a few of his amours in the process.

Nicky’s heart told her Pierre – he’d have to ask for time off from the restaurant but she’d met his boss and thought that was feasible, he’d seemed fairly human.

But her head told her Graham – put some romance back into their relationship, see if there were still embers glowing or whether they were as soggy as his fishing gear.

“Graham,” she said when she arrived home from work.

“Yep,” he’d replied, half-listening, hovering over a tub of maggots.

“Busy next weekend?”

“Nope.”

“Great,” she said, smiling. “Going away on business, so you’ll look after the house, yes?”

“Er, OK,” he’d said just as the front door slammed.

On the way to Chez Bernard’s, Nicky figured that even if Pierre’s boss was only half-human she could do a lot worse.

***

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 024: They try to with the food

A couple of weeks ago, the 24th prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales was ‘pie’. I was on holiday so didn’t get it done in time but wanted to do it anyway.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 670-worder, inspired by Roald Dahl’s Fat Chance (and I’ve given my characters the actors’ names).

They try to with the food

“Cherry Pie, John?”

“Yes, Miriam.”

“No stones?”

“No, Miriam.”

“Thank you, John.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh yes… it’s still warm. Well done you.”

“Shall I put the kettle on?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Right you are.”

Miriam knew the pie would taste even better with the tea but didn’t want it to get cold so took a bite and savoured it until she heard the kettle boil.

“Are you not having any tea, John?”

“I have to go back to work.”

“This late?”

“We’re a doctor down so I’ve been seeing more patients, more paperwork. Don’t wait up.”

***

Had Miriam looked out the window or waved her husband goodbye from the front door, she would have seen him turn left instead of right as he should have done to go to the surgery. Of course John knew she’d still be sitting on the sofa as she did every Monday and Thursday evening when he brought her cherry pie.

***

“Oh, John!”

“Oh, Sheila!”

“That was wonderful.”

“It was.”

“When are you going to leave Miriam?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“Soon, my darling.

“You know I have a business trip next week.”

“I do and I shall miss you dreadfully.”

“You will?”

“Of course. You know I only want to be with you.”

“Then leave her.”

“I shall.”

“While I’m away. If you’ve not left her when I come back then we’re over.”

“Sheila!”

“I mean it.”

“OK.”

“OK?”

“Yes, my darling.”

“You will?”

“I will.”

“While I’m away.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, John!”

“Oh, Sheila!”

***

“Hello, McNeill.”

“Hello, Doctor Castle.”

“Do you have…?”

“I do, sir. You did want this strength, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“They’re quite lethal in the wrong hands.”

“Just as well they’re in mine.”

“Fair point. There we are then.”

“Thank you, McNeill.”

“Good day, sir.”

***

“I’m home!”

“Goodie. Do you have it?”

“I have, Miriam, still warm.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Work again, tonight?”

“Not tonight, no. I thought I might go to the club though.”

“You do work so hard.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. There’s a really good program about dung beetles just about to start.”

“That’s nice dear. I’ll make you a cup of tea first though, yes?”

“Not tonight, John, not thirsty.”

“Alright then.”

“…Not hungry either,” she said when she heard the front door slam.

***

The program it turns out was less interesting than Miriam had hoped and she’d swiftly fallen asleep only to be disturbed by a visitor who hadn’t stayed long.

***

“It’s last orders, Doctor Castle, would you like another?”

“Better not, Derek.”

“Will we be seeing you tomorrow for the bridge match?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll know better when I get home.”

“Not a problem, Doctor Castle. Have a good night, sir.”

“Thank you, Derek.”

***

John Castle quietly let himself into his house and crept into the lounge. He smiled when he saw his wife sprawled across the sofa, eyes firmly shut. He looked at the coffee table and saw no pie.

He was leaning over her when her eyes sprang open and she screamed. He backed away just as violently.

“John! What were you doing?”

“Oh God! Er… sorry Miriam. I thought I saw…”

“What?”

“I don’t know, something moving, I’m not sure.”

“Where?”

“I think it’s gone.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Was your pie, nice?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh? You’ve not eaten it yet?”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Never mind. You could have it now. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“No need.”

“For lunch tomorrow then.”

“If you buy me another.”

“Sorry?”

“I wasn’t hungry so I gave it away.”

“Gave it.. away? There was someone here?”

“Only for a few minutes. Was in a hurry. Had to catch a plane.”

“Really?”

“A business trip, she said.”

John swallowed hard. “She?”

“Oh, yes. Sheila, one of your receptionists. Said she wanted an update on something…”

“And you gave her the pie?”

“I didn’t think you’d mind. I wasn’t hungry and you know what aeroplane food is like. If they don’t kill you with the turbulence, they try to with the food.”

***

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

5PM Fiction 003: The big black one with the space in the back

5PM Fiction 003: The big black one with the space in the back

Welcome to the third in the new series: 5pm Fiction.

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

I was nearing completion of the 2012 project when I decided that I didn’t want to stop at the end of May so 5PM Fiction was born. I put a load of prompts on the 5PM Fiction page and today’s prompt was a ‘mixed bag’ (two characters, an object, a location, a dilemma, a trait), and today’s were an undertaker, a school boy, a book, a bus, the bus has broken down and claustrophobia, so here is my 655-worder.

The big black one with the space in the back

I can’t breathe… I… can’t… breathe… Help.

I want to shout but I can’t speak. It’s too hot in here. I’m going to cook. Someone, please, look at me, see what’s happening. I try to cough out the words but all I do is cough.

Yes! He’s looking… I know him! He’s Mr Taylor from that funeral place on Rawlings Terrace. He’s measuring me up for a coffin, I can tell, it’s in his eyes.

“Hello, Billy.”

Cough. “Hello…” Breathe. “Mr Taylor.”

“You don’t look very well. Are you OK?”

I decide that nodding my head is the best thing to do.

He smiles and I think he really means it. He doesn’t seem disappointed at all that I’m alright. “What are you reading?”

I look down at my book, my dad’s dictionary, and blush. He doesn’t know I’ve got it and he doesn’t like me taking things without asking, so I turn it over so Mr Taylor can’t see the front.

“Just a school book,” I lie and he nods.

“Are you sure you’re OK?”

I nod again and add a smile this time.

“OK. Well… they’ll get the bus running in a minute. And if they don’t they’ll send another bus.”

Oh God. We’re going to have to wait? That could take hours.

Breathe. Mum tells me not to panic, that I should breathe. I’m trying, but all I do is gulp air like a goldfish and some of it goes down the wrong way so I cough again.

I want Mr Taylor to return to his seat but he doesn’t.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you, Billy?”

I shake my head. Mum says I shouldn’t talk to strangers but Dad knows him, pointed him out to me once, so he must be alright and there are lots of people around.

“It’ll be nice to have the company, if I’m honest,” he says to me. If he’s honest? Does that mean he’s not? If they do ‘get the bus running’, will he follow me if I get off alone? Will he…

“Makes me nervous,” he continues.

I don’t know what he’s got to be nervous about, unless he doesn’t travel on the bus very often. He’s not been on mine before. “Nervous? Why?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

I look at my dad’s dictionary and nod.

“I don’t like confined spaces,” he tells me.

I want to open my dictionary but don’t. “What’s confined?” I ask him.

“It’s being in a small space when you want to be in a big one.”

It’s nice to know he feels like I do so I grin like my dad does when my mum’s just kissed him. “But this is a bus, it’s big.”

“I know,” he says and laughs.

“And you’re not alone,” I add.

He nods. I feel a bit better but he doesn’t look so good now. I wait for him to carry on but he doesn’t. “Why did you get on the bus if you don’t like being here?” I know it’s a silly question because I did the same thing but I have to because Mum and Dad are working.

“My car’s being serviced.”

“The big black one with the space in the back for…”

He laughs again. “Yes, Billy, the hearse. I’m on my way to collect it now.”

I’m too young for a car but I know Mum and Dad love driving theirs. It must be horrible for him not to have one, especially one that’s so special.

The bus wobbles and someone behind me cheers. Mr Taylor looks happy too and makes me feel good.

“The garage is on the way to your house, Billy, I could give you a lift, save you being on this thing the whole journey.”

I’ve always wanted to travel in a hearse. Hearse. Confined. I’ve learned two new words today. I don’t think my dad will mind at all.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

5PM Fiction 002: Strange Little Girl

Welcome to the second in the new series: 5pm Fiction.

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

I was nearing completion of the 2012 project when I decided that I didn’t want to stop at the end of May so 5PM Fiction was born. I put a load of prompts on the 5PM Fiction page and today’s was ‘weird’, so here is my 425-worder, the title of which is one of my favourite Stranglers songs.

Strange Little Girl

It wasn’t until she overheard a conversation that Lollie had ever considered herself weird. That was the word they’d used. She wasn’t very good at long words but she knew the funny ones, the weird ones.

“Weird, strange, per-cue-lee-er,” she said, thinking it great to be called any of those. Nice is boring. Sweet is what an old aunt calls you. And in half an hour hers would be looking after her while her mum and dad went out. To the cinema. Lollie wanted to go with them but they said she was too young. She was always too young, unless her mother wanted her to do something, like go to the corner shop to fetch Auntie Mildred’s favourite sweets, barley sugar. Lollie had tried one once and thought it tasted like medicine so had spat it onto her hand, and Auntie Mildred had told her off. “Lauren!” she’d said, never calling her Lollie. “You’re named after a famous actress,” she’d said once, “not an ice cream.”

But Lollie loved ice creams, especially cherry, apricot or mint, or all three.

It was while she was waiting in the queue for 100 grams from one of the jars behind the counter that she’d heard the boys talking about her. She’d turned round and realised they went to the same school. Adrian something, Peter Smith, and a third she didn’t recognise. “That Lollie’s weird,” the third said and she wondered how he knew if she didn’t know him. The other two had laughed and agreed.

She should be getting back home before her aunt arrived, but waited outside the shop until the boys came out. Feeling brave, she wanted to speak to them, ask them what they had meant.

Adrian came out first eating a packet of crisps, then Peter pouring out some Smarties on to his palm and throwing them into his mouth, tipping his head back.

Despite it being cold and almost dark, the third boy came out unwrapping an ice cream.

“I thought you didn’t like those,” Adrian said.

“Weird, you called it,” Peter added.

The other boy nodded. “I know but it’s like Marmite. Sometimes you hate it and sometimes…”

So they hadn’t meant her. She felt a little disappointed but it had made her think about herself and she liked being weird, even if for only a few minutes, so she decided she would stay weird and if her Aunt didn’t like it then that was too bad. Maybe if the boy Lollie didn’t know liked weird, they could be weird together.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

5PM Fiction 001: Life in the Old Dog

Welcome to the first of a new series: 5pm Fiction.

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my $1.49 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

I was nearing completion of the 2012 project (which will become another $1.49 eBook in the not too distant future) when I decided that I didn’t want to stop at the end of May so 5PM Fiction was born. I put a load of prompts on the 5PM Fiction page and today’s prompt was to write a second-person short story where Norma is going through her handbag and makes a startling discovery, so here is my 447-worder.

Life in the Old Dog

Condoms. Why are there condoms in your handbag? You look at the outside again to make sure it’s your bag. You knew it was when you opened it and the rest of the contents are yours but these certainly aren’t.

Your mind races for clues. The only other person to go near the bag was Albert and he’d have no use for condoms. As far as you’re aware he’s never cheated on you and anyway, he’s so short-sighted and deaf he’d never notice or hear if anyone was… what’s the phrase the youngsters use today?… ‘hitting on’ him.

You’re always so fastidious about leaving your bag unattended, ever since being cautioned at the airport when Albert took you to Paris for your 40th wedding anniversary. Not cautioned, he’d say, warned, but it felt like they were the police, with their uniforms and polished shoes.

Today, the only time you went out was to go to the supermarket then the garage for petrol. You’d filled the trolley while Albert sat in the café then you’d filled the car while he queued to pay. Then he’d thrown the receipt and some chocolate in your bag. The chocolate you’d picked out when you’d got home, put it to one side on top of the washing machine while he parked the car, and that’s when you’d found the condoms.

The receipt, you remember, will explain all. Chocolate… petrol… condoms. So it was Albert. You look up to the ceiling to avoid the tears you know you want to cry but you won’t give him the satisfaction. You know he’s not bought them for you, you stopped having babies years ago, so if they’re not for you…

The threat of tears turns to welling anger and you have your arms crossed when he walks into the kitchen from the garage.

He looks at the contents on top of the washing machine and smiles. “Great. Fancy some?”

You frown so he continues. “Chocolate? It’s Fruit & Nut, your favourite.”

“And these?” you ask, holding up the packet of condoms.

“I know,” he says. “I’ve tried giving up. I didn’t think you’d mind if I only got a pack of ten.”

“Ten?”

“I’ll make them last. I chose a different brand to normal.”

“Normal!”

“These are supposed to be better for you.”

You’re about to throw them at him when he continues. “Low tar.”

“What?”

“Cigarettes. I shouldn’t, I know.”

“These aren’t cigarettes, Albert!”

“Aren’t they?”

“No, Albert. These are condoms.”

“They are? Why did she give me condoms?”

You burst out laughing at his pained expression, like the little boy you remember from school.

Albert winks, takes your hand and leads you upstairs.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 31st – Parallel Bars

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was to write a story about a best friend (“and make us love the hero”) and give it a kick-ass ending. Not sure about the latter but here goes my 609-worder.

Parallel Bars

A hero doesn’t have to rescue people from a burning building. He, or she, doesn’t have to develop a miracle cure. Anyone can be a hero and sometimes it takes something very small to been seen as one; a small gesture, small talk, a small step.

Being told she’d never walk again made Abbie all the more determined. She’d known the risks when she signed up, headed out to a country she could barely spell, in heat she’d not been prepared for. Sun bathing was nothing compared to this. No sun cream manufacturer made a factor that would go this high but she loved every second, the camaraderie she’d never known, even being one of seven siblings and it was their strength she found when she got home, badly injured with months of physio training ahead of her.

The two metal poles stretching out reminded her of the parallel bars she’d used at school, only then she’d bounded up to them, performing twists and somersaults like she’d later do in diving competitions.

“Twenty minutes today,” Jack told her nonchalantly as if that would be easy. It had been fifteen minutes yesterday, ten the day before. She’d wanted to give up at five.

He’d let go once she’d grabbed the poles, them supporting her thin frame, then he’d stood back, waiting for her to move. She wanted to cheat, pull her legs along with her hands but she’d tried that, alone in her specially-adapted bedroom and with nothing to support her had collapsed in a heap.

Now, she wanted to look around the room at her friends, some newer than others, do anything but walk. Except that’s all she wanted to do, just a simple action that so many take for granted, that she had.

“Any time you like,” Jack said winking. “We’ve got all day.”

Abbie knew that wasn’t true, that his time was precious, that there were others booked in after her. So she breathed in, until her lungs felt they had no more space, and grunted her way to a slow, arduous, painful first step.

“Good,” Jack said and moved to the end of the beams so unless she looked down or away, he’d been in her line of sight, like an enemy in the warzone. “Don’t stop,” he said when she’d paused too long.

She took another lungful of air and twisted her body to guide her left foot forward. Her arms were already beginning to ache so she slacked off her grip and felt herself falling.

“Grab, Abbie!” Jack shouted and she grabbed the bars, keeping herself upright.

“Keep going,” he said and she repeated her method, putting out her right foot. “Now that wasn’t so difficult was it,” Jack said, smiling at her.

“Easy for you to say,” she growled.

“Yes, it is. But you keep doing that and I won’t need to.”

Abbie gritted her teeth and took another step, swinging her hips to aid her momentum. As she edged closer, Jack backed away. “I’m not going off the end,” she said, when he’d stopped a few feet away.

“I know but with hips like that you’ll need some room to turn round.”

“You cheeky git!”

“Gets you moving.”

It was then Abbie realised she was at the end of the bars. Remembering her technique from the previous days she swung herself round, ignoring the pain that shot up her body, and grabbed the bars as her knees started to buckle.

As he walked back to the other end, Jack started clapping. Abbie blushed and concentrated on gripping the bars for the return journey… to Jack, her best friend, former comrade and husband-to-be.

***

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 29th – In His Shoes

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was to write a story where the protagonist is a hero, so here is my 974-worder with a very unconventional hero(ine).

In His Shoes

Looking out through the office window, Elle pictured herself in Tom’s shoes then told herself off when saw the image of her size fives comically floating around in his elevens. She didn’t know he was elevens, of course, being a colleague, but he was tall, and tall men usually had big feet. She smuggled a laugh remembering what big feet implied but harking back to previous boyfriends she figured it was a lie made up by a man who should have had very small feet.

Not the time to joke, she told herself as she watched Tom wobble. Now was the time to have small feet, hers balancing on the ledge instead of his. She wanted to get nearer, to speak to him, but the MD, Steve, had told them to keep back.

She wondered who had made Tom go out there. It was always a ‘who’, rarely a ‘what’. A spurned love, crippling debt caused by a spurned love. She didn’t know Tom that well so couldn’t recall any mention of a love, spurned or otherwise.

Someone next to her was crying. Turning round she spotted Hayley, the Accounts Assistant sobbing into a wad of tissues, mascara running down her face. She couldn’t imagine her and Tom being an item and knew how easily Hayley burst into tears; a missing cat, broken arm, missed appointment, none of them hers. Steve was consoling her, or trying to, her wailing getting louder and looking at Tom, Elle saw this was making him more nervous.

With Steve distracted, Elle knew this was her chance, so casually walked towards the open window and leaned out, just a little. “Hi, Tom.”

Tom screamed and clung on to the metal window edging. Behind her, Hayley screamed.

“Sorry,” Elle whispered.

Tom said nothing.

“Hi, Tom,” Elle repeated, this time somewhat quieter.

“Hello, Elle.”

“Can I ask a silly question?”

“Please go back inside.”

“I prefer it out here.”

“So do I.”

“This silly question…”

“I know what you’re going to ask. What am I doing out here.”

“No, that wasn’t it. I can see what you’re doing.”

“OK, why then.”

“And your answer is…”

“Because I’ve had enough.”

“Of…”

“Elle, please go back inside. This was supposed to be quick and before anyone got to work but…”

“You can’t do it.”

“I will. I’ll jump.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“You’re not helping.”

“OK. I’ll go back in…”

“No! Stay!”

“The police will be shortly.”

“Oh, God.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to come inside before they do? Say it’s all been a big mistake.”

“No.”

“Why ‘no’?”

“They’d arrest me.”

“The two other options open to you would be worse.”

“Two?”

“Still being out here when they do arrive or being splat when they do.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What? Splat?”

Tom nodded.

“You’re on a fifth storey ledge with nothing but concrete to break your fall. How did you think you’d end up?”

“I didn’t think…”

“Seriously?”

“It just seemed like…”

“The right thing to do?”

Tom nodded again.

“Why?”

Tom shrugged then screamed as his right foot slipped sideways, his shoe falling to the ground with a sickening thud.

“See, that could have been you,” Elle said, then wondered whether it was the right thing to say. Seeing Tom was now struggling to balance in his socked right foot said, “Take your sock off, there’s no grip.”

“I can’t.”

“You’ll fall if you don’t.”

“I can’t bend down.”

“I’ll go and get your shoe then.”

“No! Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll send someone else.”

Tom shook his head, gently, both hands gripping to the window edges. “I’ll just stay still.”

“You can’t do that forever.”

“I know.”

“Then we’ll have to come up with a plan B. What size shoes do you take?”

“Eight.”

“OK. Back in a tick.”

“Don’t!…”

But Elle had disappeared.

“Steve. What size shoes do you take?”

“Ten, why.”

“I need your right one.”

“What? Why?”

“Please. Just…”

“OK,” Steve said and handed Elle his right shoe.

***

“Tom. Put this on, it’s going to be a bit big but wiggle your foot to the front for grip.”

“I can’t move.”

“It’s fine. Your right foot’s on the ledge. Just hold on tighter and lift your foot up a little. I’ll lean out, position it and you put your foot it.”

“This is crazy.”

“Yes, it is but not as crazy as you coming out here in the first place.”

“I never knew you were such a bossy boots.”

“When the situation demands it, now lift.”

Tom lifted his foot, Elle hovered the shoe underneath it and Tom wedged his foot to the front of the shoe. Keeping hold of the window frames, he shuffled along the ledge until he reached the window. He slowly bent down so Elle could grab his jacket and pull him into the office where their colleagues crowded round them, all talking, one crying, at once. Steve then took charge and lead Tom and Elle to his office.

After prolonged questioning by Steve and the police, and a check-up at hospital, Tom was released into Elle’s care and it wasn’t long before she found out that the size debate really wasn’t true.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 28th – Thank you for the Joy

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was to write a descriptive story. I’m more a fan of dialogue than description but wrote this one in this evening’s writing group (because the prompt was late) and here is my 345-worder.

Thank you for the Joy

Joy picked the book from the charity shop shelf and stared at the cover. An artist’s illustration of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina smiled faintly back at her. She’d never really been a fan of the classics but it was on her book group’s reading list and buying it here would not only save her money but mean she could read it ahead of time, helpful given its size.

Opening the front cover, she expected to see the price but was greeted with a small floral label with an inscription in neat, faded handwriting. She smiled as she read the five words: ‘Thank you for the joy’. A date accompanied the writing: 1st December 1942. Although long before Joy was born, 1st December was significant; not her birthday but that of her mother. The inscription was signed by a Thomas Manley and finally a location: Penzance. The man’s name meant nothing to her but Joy had been to Cornwall as a child and remembered the bleak, windy cliff tops, the desolate beaches, crowded only in summer. It was those crowds that her parents had wanted to avoid so they always went in winter, when others would travel abroad. They’d stay on a farm, she’d ridden a pony called Bracken and helped feed the pigs. Those holidays had lead her to become a vet, a job she’d only just retired from and found herself with more free time than she’d wanted, the book group helping with that.

It had been too long, she decided, since she’d been to Cornwall. With a free week ahead of her, she paid for the book and went to the coffee shop next door to use one of their computers.

There were more Thomas Manleys than she’d expected, even narrowing the search to Cornwall, but only one with any relation to Penzance; Tom Manley, who died the year before, a teenager and therefore not her Thomas Manley.

Then Joy put in her mother’s maiden name, Evelyn Scott, and there appeared a photograph of Thomas James Manley (1927-) beside a letter with familiar handwriting.

One to continue me thinks.  You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 27th – Not like they used to

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was to write dialogue. Having written a few dialogue pieces this month, I should be practiced. So here is my 301-worder.

Not like they used to

“They don’t make them like they used to, Ted.”

“No, they don’t… what don’t they?”

“These glasses. They don’t sit right.”

“I thought they looked new. Take them back then, can’t you?”

“Suppose. And they’re fussy.”

“Fussy, Frank?”

“Fuzzy.”

“Oh. What, like you can’t see properly?”

“Not properly, no.”

“Then definitely take them back.”

“Vera’s going to town tomorrow so…”

“They shouldn’t have let you leave the shop if they weren’t right.”

“Felt OK then.”

“What made you go for pink?”

“Eh?”

“Your glasses, they’re pink.”

“Are they? They were brown at the shop.”

“Well, they’re pink now.”

“Faded too then.”

“I think they’ve given you the wrong ones. Take them off and see.”

“…Oh.”

“They’re not the ones you chose, are they?”

“No they’re not… they’re Vera’s.”

“Vera’s? Why are you wearing hers?”

“I don’t know.”

“Won’t she be missing them?”

“Probably not, they’re her readings.”

“Oh, right. Did you watch the game last night?”

“Did, Ted. Bit disappointing.”

“Bunch of girls, aren’t they. I used to play football, you know.”

“I do.”

“Teddenham Tigers.”

“And you were good.”

“Thank you, Frank. Back then it was a proper sport on proper wages.”

“Didn’t tell me you were professional.”

“Not me, no, but the lads who did, you know, in the big clubs, got a normal wage and were grateful. Didn’t drive around in flashy cars back then. None of this status symbol and wags.”

“Wags?”

“Wives and girlfriends.”

“Oh yeah. And none of this rolling over in ‘pain’ with the slighted nudge. Lads knew how to tackle back then.”

“They’re all sissies nowadays. That’s why I prefer watching rugby.”

“Gentleman’s sport.”

“And they’re built like men. You know, big, strapping.”

“I do, Ted.”

“The footies are all tall and lanky, like matchsticks.”

“Don’t make them like they used to, Ted.”

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks (including Story A Day May 2011) and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 22nd – Being Ernest

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was to write a story in third person limited point of view. I was going to use a random news item for inspiration, but the internet was dodgy where I was when I started thinking about this but I’d just been typing up some notes from a back copy of Writers’ Forum so, following yesterday’s style of short story, I decided to pick out five random words from Sally Quilford’s column (the page I happened to be on at the time). The five words were: acceptable, skilful, encyclopaedia, concentrate and already. So, here is my 376-worder.

Being Ernest

Without a trace of guilt, Noreen Townsend thought it perfectly acceptable to slam the door in the young man’s face. What would an 85-year-old need with a set of encyclopaedias? She knew enough about the world to know she didn’t want to learn any more. She’d never visit the endangered tribes in the remote forests of Outer Mongolia, she’d never need to learn how to make a car that could go 300 miles an hour or know how many breeds of stickleback fish there were. She was a people person, not facts and figures.

To Noreen, her husband Ernest was the skilful one, able to concentrate on his work whilst holding the longest of conversations. He’d been a walking encyclopaedia since they’d first met in the canteen of the electronics factory, until one day, not long after the salesman’s visit, Ernest had paused mid-sentence and stared at Noreen who’d waited patiently for him to continue, unsure as to why he’d stopped.

“A funny thing happened to me this morning,” Ernest had said.

“You’ve told me already, Ernest,” Noreen had wanted to reply but let him tell his tale.

Over the next few months she’d had more repeats, more unfinished sentences until one day he said nothing at all. He’d stare out the window and nod at each truck or car going past. He ate normally, looked after himself, but it was as if he’d run out of things to say.

“Tell me something new,” Noreen had said, tired of the silence, but Ernest would just smile as if to say there was nothing to tell, which there wasn’t as he didn’t go anywhere, just stare out the window at the trucks.

Then one day one of the trucks stopped. The doorbell rang and Ernest looked round, though said nothing.

Noreen went to the door, lead the delivery driver into the lounge where he placed the four cardboard boxes in front of Ernest. Noreen signed with the digital pen, and thanked the man as he left. Returning to the lounge, she peeled off the tape from one of the boxes and took out one of the items. Opening the ‘Hubbard’s Encyclopaedia D-F’ she found the entry for electronics and felt a tear trickle down her cheek as Ernest started reading out the text.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 18th – Bill the Bag Man

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was to write a story featuring a loner, so here is my 726-worder. And it’s another sad one, sorry about that.

Bill the Bag Man

They say everyone has someone, but there are those few who slip the radar, made someone their everything then lost them, moved area for a fresh start.

Bill’s wife Laura had been the one interested in shopping, he’d just sit reading the sports section until she either bought (usually) or moved on to another shop (or both).

She’d been the one with the good job. He’d never understood what a gorgeous sales executive had seen in a bin man like Bill but he made her laugh, they made each other laugh and when they were told they couldn’t have children it didn’t seem to matter. They used the money a buggy would have cost to go away for the weekend, a cot bought them a London show.

Whenever she bought a new suit she’d call it an investment but to Bill it looked the same as the one she’d been wearing the day before. “Quality over quantity,” she’d say and she seemed to have both but it was her money and it made her happy, so Bill had no complaints.

“We should do a car boot sale,” he’d suggested but then agreed when she’d said they’d only get a fraction of the money back and that she still wore or used everything she’d bought and he’d nodded again.

But then she started buying smaller sizes, seemed paler each shopping trip and when she’d collapsed he’d wanted to cry at how light she felt lifting her in the car.

As she got thinner the trips increased; she’d wanted to explore while she could, then her mode of transport changed from the London Underground to a wheelchair by the sea front. Finally shopping was all she enjoyed but she’d buy things for him, saying she had more than enough to last a lifetime. Bill knew she meant hers.

He’d not wanted all the clutter around the house before but when she’d died he began to see its attraction; it kept him company. Inanimate objects they may have been, but every now and then he’d get out a bag and look at the contents; smiling if it was something he’d bought, crying if it was hers. So he kept up the tradition, went in every shop with a ‘sale’ sign then bought regardless of whether reduced or not, adding it to the pile when he got home.

He started having to step over things, cupboard space a premium but it felt like exercise. He’d become practiced at making mounds that stayed upright despite resembling the leaning Tower of Pisa. They incorporate tunnels and he felt like his childhood guinea pigs nestling through straw. He’d even chirruped and laughed. He wasn’t sure how Laura would have felt about his existence but he knew she wouldn’t have wanted him mourning and having all her things around him grew soothing.

Routines kept him sane; Tesco Monday afternoons, picking a different assistant each time, the library Wednesday mornings where self-service meant he could be a no-one. Friday lunchtimes were foil-wrapped sandwiches in the park with a bottle of orange juice on a warm day or flask of tea when cold.

He began thinking that retirement wasn’t as bad as people made out and he’d pop into the pound shop on the way home, filling a couple of carrier bags with anything bright and cheerful; toys for grandchildren he’d never have, squeaky bones for a dog long gone, short date shortbread from a Scottish loch. He’d have them with his cup of tea so he treated himself to the local paper from Mr Patel’s.

Pulling out the shortbread, he started a new layer of bags in one corner of the lounge. He’d put the kettle on and stretch his legs in the garden then work his way back to his favourite chair to see what the outside world had been up to, according to the Holford Gazette.

The kettle was boiling when he remembered he’d left his mug by the chair and nestled his way knowing every square inch of carpet. He’d just turned round, mug in hand, when his foot kicked a bag and he heard plastic shifting. It was his back that felt the blow first, then a hip, a shoulder, his head.

As Bill took his last breath he saw Laura’s face and he knew everything was going to be OK.

If you like working from prompts you might be interested in my 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook (Vol 1).

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 17th – The Legends of Louisiana

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was ‘the chase’, so here is my 107-worder. Short and sweet?

The Legends of Louisiana

“They’re gaining on us, honey!”

“I know, darlin’. I know.”

“Can’t you make this thing go any faster?”

“Foot pedal’s to the floor.”

“We’re not gonna make it.”

“Trust me. Haven’t I got you out of situations like this before?”

“Sure.”

“Then I’ll do it again.”

“There’s another one. Two more.”

“Relax. They don’t know who they’re dealin’ with.”

“I think they do, that’s why they’re acting that way.”

“Actin’? They ain’t actin’. They mean business but so do we.”

“You’re funny, honey.”

“No point in gettin’ all serious when…”

“They’re coming up on the left!”

“There’s Oakley and…”

“I love you, Clyde.”

“Love you, too, Bonn………”

Thank you Wikpedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonnie_and_Clyde). If you like working from prompts you might be interested in my 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook (Vol 1).

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 16th – 1966 and all that

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was to write a love story that doesn’t run smoothly… so here is my 100-worder.

1966 and all that

Tanya knew the way to get John to propose was football, and what better occasion than the World Cup. She had a good feeling about this year. If England did well…

She could tell he spoke just to her. It was in his eyes.

She listened to his every word, microphone close to his mouth, the perfectly-formed lips that Tanya longed to kiss. OK, so he already had a family but Tanya knew where they lived, knew their routine.

With the bus ticket buried in her pocket, she opened the cutlery drawer and smiled as she selected the perfect knife.

***

If you like working from prompts you might be interested in my 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook (Vol 1).

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 13th – Would Chuck chuck?

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011. And here we are a year later doing it all over again.

Today’s prompt was to give our hero a want or need, then move them away or towards it. In this 187-worder, we catch up again with Rosie, her mother and brother from May 11th’s story Just a figure of speech. If you’ve not read that you might like to before reading this as they run parallel to each other chronologically (and today’s ending has borrowed yesterday’s).

Would Chuck chuck?

“Mr Francome, you can’t sack Mrs Norman.”

“We’re not.”

“No, you’re… ‘letting her go’.”

“We have to.”

“But you’re replacing her.”

“We need a good music teacher.”

“You already have one.”

“It’s complicated, Chuck.”

“You don’t like her.”

“It’s not that.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“That’s not true. I like her very much.”

“Anyway, you can’t get rid of her – she’s having a baby.”

“I know… but how…”

“It’s the law. Discrimination.”

“I’ve told you, it’s not like that.”

“Then I’ll say it is.”

“Listen, Chuck, it’s done. The other teacher, who is a very fine music teacher, will be here next Monday. Mrs Norman has another placement and is very happy…”

“Then why did I see her crying?”

“You did? How unprof…”

“Mr Francome! You can’t let her go. She’s the best teacher we’ve had.”

“As I said, it’s too late and it’s…”

“Complicated. You said that too.”

“Yes. I’m sorry but…”

“If you like her and she’s a good teacher then why… oh, I see. You LIKE her…”

“It’s not…”

“Chuck? What are you doing here? No, Chuck, put that down!”

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Flash Fiction Friday 034: ‘Over’ by Morgen With An E

Welcome to Flash Fiction Friday and the thirty-fourth piece of flash fiction in this series. A couple of hours ago I posted my most recent piece for http://storyaday.org entitled Just a figure of speech and because I was scheduled to be tonight’s flash fiction Fridayer, I decided to pick one of my stories from last year’s eBook collection Story a Day May 2011 and chose my 549-worder from the one-word prompt of ‘Over’ which I kept as it’s title, you’ll see why. I hope you enjoy it.

Over

“Over,” I say, and my dog and I cross the road. Overnight, after oversleeping, I’ve become overcome with cold. I’m usually overrun with chores but today I’m taking it easy. A contrast to yesterday, blitzing my overgrown garden; now my pavement is overcrowded with overfilled brown wheelie bins and strong, green gardening bags.

I look in the dictionary and have never heard of ‘overhand’. Wikipedia tells me it’s a boxing term and a knot, and I’m not a violent person but right now I’m angry. My neighbour’s extension has gone over and above what was promised to me; it’s already overhanging the light into my south-facing garden.

I head to the bank to check that I’m not overdrawn, not dipped into my overdraft, then buy some over-the-counter medicine before this cold overpowers me. I think I’ve been overcharged.

On the way home, another neighbour calls me over. So, switching off my iPod’s classical overture, we talk over the fence, while his England flag flutters overhead.

To say I’m fat is an overstatement. I’m a little overweight and could do with an overhaul of my eating habits, but it would be an oversimplification to say 5-a-day fruit and veg would do it. I often overlook them at the supermarket, an unhealthy oversight. My body’s been doing a bit too much overtime at the moment so it really wouldn’t hurt.

An early night is also long overdue but I have plans tonight (I’m having writing friends over) so an afternoon nap will have to make do.

My back is complaining, it does that a lot. When I go to pick something up it says, “don’t overdo it” but I never listen. Tomorrow morning I shall carry stacks of Red Cross-donated books which I’ll tip on to the counter and their shiny covers will slip against each other and overbalance on to the floor.

In the afternoon, what energies I have will be used to empty my loft (pre-electrician’s visit), bring down the boxes of already-bought presents that will overwhelm my mother in September, when she’s easily pleased, although I suspect she overplays it, oversells for my benefit. My aunt, her twin, will just look overawed, carrying her overladen gift bag into the kitchen, putting her Andre Rieu DVDs with the others. An überfan.

Then Wednesday lunchtime my job sharer will read me her handover notes as our shifts overlap, my turn to work two and a half days before another weekend arrives.

I usually travel overseas but my friend and I are busy so we’ll wait a year. She’s off to Mexico, me to Winchester. I’ve never been there before so I’ll need to pay attention so I don’t overshoot the junction, overstep the mark on the map for the venue.

If I played cricket I think it would be underarm not overarm, that’s just how I throw; like a girl.

Radio Litopia’s AgentPete calls me an overachiever but I like to think I’m just overjoyed with all things literary. We chat during Sunday night’s Open House then our Skype connection is terminated before I overstay my welcome. I live and breathe writing, albeit stuffily through a red overblown nose. I sneeze over and over again.

Having over-egged today’s prompt, this ditty is over. Well, anymore would be overkill, wouldn’t it?

If you’d like to submit your 1,000-word max. stories for consideration for Flash Fiction Friday take a look here.

The blog interviews will return as normal tomorrow with historical author and poet Elizabeth Vallone – the three hundred and sixty-seventh of my blog interviews with novelists, poets, short story authors, bloggers, biographers, agents, publishers and more. A list of interviewees (blogged and scheduled) can be found here. If you like what you read, please do go and investigate further. And I enjoy hearing from readers of my blog; do either leave a comment on the relevant interview (the interviewees love to hear from you too!) and / or email me.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks (including the $1.49-$1.62 Story a Day May 2011) and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 10th – White Chocolate Chocolate

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was ‘Off-stage’; to write a story where your character never appears. Because I’m planning on eBooking this month’s stories I thought I’d bring back some from the 2011 collection, so we have another day in the life of ‘Whatever you say’, and inspired by the overheard line whilst walking my dog, “We’ve only got 12 minutes ’til the bell.” Without further ado, here is my 318-worder.

White Chocolate Chocolate

“Mum, have you washed my gym kit?”

“You know I have. It’s in the holdall, there, by the front door. What’s your brother doing?”

“Did you sign my school trip form?”

“Yes, Rosie. Chuck!”

“Is it OK if Holly comes to supper?”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“It’s a bit short notice. I’ve already started cooking the…”

“She doesn’t need to eat much.”

“Holly’s too skinny as it is. Don’t worry, I’ll add something else. Chuck!”

“Could we have some Granny Dee’s pudding?”

“I’m not going shopping today.”

“But you’re going past the store.”

“Past, Rosie, not in. I’ve already prepared the rhubarb.”

“Not rhubarb!”

“You love rhubarb.”

“But Holly doesn’t.”

“Well then she can just have ice cream.”

“She doesn’t like ice cream.”

“Holly doesn’t like ice cream? What little girl doesn’t like ice cream?”

“Holly.”

“No wonder she’s so skinny.”

“Can we have chocolate ice cream then?”

“I thought you said Holly doesn’t like ice cream.”

“She likes chocolate.”

“Chocolate chocolate or ice cream chocolate?”

“Yeah.”

“She can have some chocolate chocolate but we’re not getting chocolate ice cream. I had to throw the last lot away. Chuck! We’ve only got 12 minutes ’til the bell!”

“We’ve got some chocolate chocolate?”

“No, but I can pop into the store.”

“But you said you weren’t going to the store.”

“We could do with some chocolate anyway.”

“We never have chocolate. You won’t let us.”

“Chuck!”

“Can we go now?”

“We can’t go without Chuck. Go up and get him will you, while I get the car out the garage.”

“Oh, he’s not here. He’s already gone to school. Told me to tell you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, ages ago. They’re doing some band practice for Saturday night.”

“And he told you to tell me.”

“Yep.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

“But I’ve been calling him.”

“I know.”

“Then why…”

Rosie shrugged her shoulders. “Can we have white chocolate chocolate?”

If you like working from prompts you might be interested in my 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook (Vol 1).

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 022: Finger

Armed with the prompt ‘finger’, my sixteenth short story for online writing group Tuesday Tales, I went to a writer’s retreat (run by Helen M Hunt) and below is the result. I’d already written a story when walking round the park a few days before but it’s dark. And I mean really dark. Too dark (about a pervert) to put on this family-friendly blog but I wrote three at the retreat so you have treble trouble this week (including five dice prompts from the retreat: gate, moon, trees, lock and bubble).

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here are my 166-worder ‘Full Moon’, 294-worder ‘Elimination’ and 29-worder ‘Lock-jaw’.

Full Moon
Swinging the gate open, Jody winced as it complained. Looking up at her parents’ bedroom she waited for a light. Above the house, the moon was bright and whole, splintered by next door’s laylandia. She smiled as she thought of the scene from Bruce Almighty where Jim Carrey enlarges the moon and pulls it closer.

With the house still in darkness, she put her key in the lock, slowly, silently, and held the handle as she pushed the door away from its frame, closing it again just as quietly. Climbing the stairs she avoided the step that creaked and was grateful that she’d left her bedroom door open when she went earlier that evening.

In the bubble of her room, she leant against the windowsill staring out into the night. She could hear her father snoring next door and she smiled as she imagined her mother’s efforts getting to sleep.

Jody was making shapes out of the stars when she felt a finger jab her back.

Elimination
Using the height of the moon as a guide, Tom headed in its direction, the only other company the bare trees of the Australian outback.

Blowing out his last stick of bubble gum he let it pop and cover his nose and for a moment he felt like a child again. A safe child whose mother would smother him in a warm blanket and tell him everything was going to be all right.

His eyes locked onto a light on the horizon, a gated track leading to it. As Tom walked nearer he saw movement behind the light, one corner of a small single-storey house.

He reached the gate and read the sign. ‘Private Property – Trespassers will be eliminated’.

“Eliminated?” Tom said out loud. “That’s ridiculous. It should be prosecuted. Who eliminates people? He looked around him, turning in a slow meticulous circle. Having spent the last three hours trying to find signs of life, someone to take him to the nearest town, someone to return to fix his rental car, he decided he’d risk being ‘eliminated’.

Signs didn’t mean what they said. They were just there to scare. It would work with most people but when faced with no other option, it didn’t scare Tom. So he opened the gate then closed it behind him, reverently as if it would help his case. He started walking the two or three hundred yards to the house, slowly in case of confrontation at any moment. He was about half-way when he heard a click, his right foot hitting something hard. He froze to the spot and looked down, but saw nothing but earth. Heart thumping, he crouched down, careful not to move his feet then screamed as he brushed away the dirt with his fingers.

Lock-jaw
As he swung the gate until it hit the tree, Johnny chewed his bubble gum and stared at the mooning student, finger in the air, until his jaw locked.

###

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers. This week’s are here.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Story A Day May 2012: May 2nd – You are a lovely lot

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

And here we are a year later doing it all over again. Today’s prompt was ‘memories’ and here is my 376-worder.

You are a lovely lot

No child likes being told off and adults even less so. Being told off for saying you have a bad memory isn’t the worst thing in the world but it stuck, and every time Laura goes to say she has a bad memory she remembers her history teacher, Mrs Davis, shaking her head and tutting.

“Tell yourself something bad and you’ll believe it,” she’d say, but it was true, Laura had a terrible memory… for dates especially, history therefore being her worst subject, which made Mrs Davis warm to her even less.

The teachers at Fordham High had their ‘pets’; no apples were involved but the star pupils sat at the front so their hands would be the only ones the teachers saw. On the rare occasion their eyes did wander backwards it would inevitably be Laura they picked on, hand or no hand raised in the air. ‘Not remembering’ wasn’t an acceptable excuse and many a time she’d be sent to the Head for a caning on the hand.

She’s sure that if she ever had her palms read the fortune teller would frown, confused by the dominance of lines, unable to tell how long Laura’s life would be or how in love she could get.

Given the events of late 2001 it wouldn’t matter. Mid-August she’d said “goodbye” to her father, the last time they’d spoken, then just days later she’d heard the news on the radio driving back from the recycling tip. The first plane… the second… the pictures on TV when she got back to her mother’s and they turned on the news.

Laura’s father had died just three days before, in a comfortable hospital bed, unconscious for days, dementia swallowing his brain for the last time. She had had her farewell and as she saw the drama unfold and repeat, she thought of the daughters of the men in the buildings – businessmen, just like her father – unaware of what they were losing, no chance to say “goodbye”.

She imagined one man, grey, sitting at his desk, calm despite the panic around him. He was looking at a photograph; his wife, son, daughter, and he was smiling, saying just five words as the floor beneath him crumpled… “you are a lovely lot”.

Sorry about that… a happier one next time for sure.

If you like working from prompts you might be interested in my 365-Day Writer’s Block Workbook (Vol 1).

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum and you can follow me on Twitter, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me. I also now have a new blog creation service especially for writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)   on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 017: Siesta

Armed with online writing group Tuesday Tales’ seventeenth prompt ‘chest’, my eleventh short story for them, I got writing and below is the result.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us the link, then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 316-word second-person story.

Siesta

You can’t help staring at his chest. Only a mammoth has more hair than Eddie. It’s the only thing you dislike about his body so you close your eyes and think of proverbial England… the country of your birth… the country you miss, despite everything you have here.

Eddie mistakes your closed eyes for ecstasy and gives one last thrust, groaning as he does so, then flops back to his side of the bed and promptly falls asleep, the effort clearly too much. He puts his constant lethargy down to advancing years but you tell him that fifty is the new thirty so he’s thirty-two. You put it down to his sedentary lifestyle, easily done where you are, except you go out and find things to do. Solo but not solo, enjoying other people’s company but wishing it was Eddie’s.

You look at the expanse of hair – more of it, it seems, due to his expanding girth – and you watch it rise and fall. The mouth above it whimpers and you catch your name. Soft, romantic, like you know Eddie to be… under all that hair. He’s grown his head hair long, dark like his chest, looks like a rock star only he doesn’t play the guitar so well.

Leaning in, you smell the still-evident aftershave, the last of the Duty Free. You rub his chest, determined to make friends with the mammoth, remind yourself that Eddie can be an animal in bed when he’s not so tired, then your hand stops… replays, just to be sure, and it is sure. You’re sure. You’ve felt this before… with Frank. Images flood your brain: beeping machines, shaking heads, forms to sign.

You feel a sensation in your nose, you always do before you cry, but you sniff away the tears as Eddie opens his eyes.

You smile, kiss his chest, then go downstairs to make the dinner.

This story is one of twelve to be found here.

The links to the first seven prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on my new Tuesday Tales page here on this blog. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales site.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called Short Story Saturdays where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Tuesday Tales 016: Date Night

Armed with their sixteenth prompt ‘night’, my tenth short story for online writing group ’Tuesday Tales’ is below. Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday ), gives us that link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 258-worder…

Date Night

Date night has become a weekly tradition you look forward to. Thursdays. When others go out with the lads… the girls… it’s just you and Evelyn. Your French Fancy. You think it’s corny but she still finds it funny – even after all these years.

She acts differently on a Thursday morning. More loving. Like a teenager, even. She becomes your Frisky French Fancy.

You’re a private couple and go somewhere different each time so no-one remembers you but always classy, expensive. You pay cash as if it’s going to impress but the only one who feels differently is you.

A young man with an ice bucket of individual red roses stands at the table and wishes you a Happy Valentine’s then asks if you’d like to buy a flower “for your lady”, which you gladly do, even though you’ve bought her an expensive bracelet.

You order steak, medium-well done, Evelyn has trout, and you talk about everything and nothing; work, the children – you still have plenty to say.

Sharing a caramel roulade takes you back to your first date and you mention it. She stops smiling and you see a tear forming.

“Je suis désolé,” you say, putting down your fork, and signalling for the bill.

You pay and leave the restaurant in silence, remaining so as you walk to the car park.

You kiss her cheek and she smiles briefly.

You open her door and she says a “merci”.

You watch her drive away, back to her family and you get in your car to return to yours.

***

PS. Evelyn / Evelyne means ‘little bird‘ or ‘hazelnut‘.

The links to the first seven prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on my new Tuesday Tales page here on this blog. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales site.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at Smashwords, Sony Reader Store, Barnes & Noble, iTunes Bookstore, Kobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called Short Story Saturdays where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 

Writing prompts from Writing Excuses podcast

One of the sci-fi orientated podcasts (though you’d only really know it from their reference to the fantasy novels/comics they write) is the weekly ‘Writing Excuses’ (http://www.writingexcuses.com). As they say “it’s 15 minutes long because you’re in a hurry and we’re not that smart.”! It gives you an idea of how friendly the podcast is. It’s such a great programme. Writing Excuses is usually hosted by three guys Howard, Dan and Brandon and it’s really informative and informal. At the end of each show they give a writing prompt which can be done by anyone, not just sci-fi writers. Here are the first few from way back (thanks to a dig around in my files for info for my the latest podcast – links on the left-hand ‘Where to find me’ menu):

• 29.09.08 – “Take an old piece of writing, look at the dialogue and tweak it – have it evoke a bit more character but mean the same thing. So the story doesn’t change its meaning.”
• 29.12.08 – “Write a story with no theme and that means nothing.” Is it easier said than done? Actually writing complete garbage is good for you. A fan approaching Larry Niven once gushed “I’ve read everything you’ve written”, to which the cool Mr Niven says, “I doubt it.” Writing something that doesn’t get published is still writing and if it’s rubbish then the chances are that the next thing will be better. I look at some of my writing from 2004 and cringe…but then I look at some of my writing from 2008 and do the same but that’s what the editing process is for. There’s very little that has no ‘legs’. A rejected story can be rewritten or pulled apart for another project so even if you have an idea that you think no-one will be interested in, do it anyway. What’s the harm? Sometimes a rant and rave on paper is very therapeutic and you never know there may be someone out there who will buy it!
• 05.01.09 – Have some fun in the worst possible way: write an extremely violent sequence and then write the consequences (moralise it afterwards and force yourself to walk that path)
• 12.01.09 – no writing prompt but a very interested programme on time-saving
• 19.01.09 – Write an ending and start your book (or story) with it.
• 26.01.09 – Write a credible alien and write something from his perspective.
• 02.02.09 – Write a story about the worst website ever.
• 09.02.09 – Come up with a unique governmental/bureaucratic title name, i.e. something completely different to minister, king, priest etc.
• 16.02.09 – Write a story about a golfing metaphor!
• 23.02.09 – Come up with 25 words that distil everything you want to say about your next work.
• 02.03.09 – Write a fight between two people who have never been in a fight before and have to use their environment cleverly. Nothing to do with sci-fi etc. but there was a hilarious ‘fight’ scene in both Bridget Jones’ Diary films between Colin Firth and Hugh Grant – definite must sees.
• 09.03.09 – Pick your favourite author and in 50 words or less, write down what you think their brand it (and they suggest discussing on their forum).
• 16.03.09 – Write a story about a character getting attacked by flying monkeys!
• 24.03.09 – Write a story about a non-genre character (example given was Winnie the Pooh!) within the world of your genre (“on a spaceship”!)
• 30.03.09 – Write something that you are passionate about. Their guest that episode was an editor and she said she only accepts stories where she can feel the writer is passionate about what they’re writing. I’ve heard so many times that if you are bored with a particular piece it will come through and the reader will get bored. So if that’s the case, put it to one side for a while and move on to something else. That way it will, hopefully, it will seem fresher when you return to it (and you must!) and easier to see where you are going wrong.