Monday, 18 April 2011


You Were a Rose

I've had a go at self-publishing!  I've published a short story on the Kindle Direct Publishing site.  It's extraordinarily easy to do and it feels great to click onto Amazon, enter the story title and see it there, available to purchase for 86p.

As for royalties, I'll receive a princely 26p (35% before VAT is added) for each digital copy sold.  I don't think I'll be an overnight millionaire, but i might have enough for a pint by the end of the year.

So if you have a Kindle and want to find out if I'm actually any good, follow the handy link in the side bar and part with a little loose change.

Sunday, 10 April 2011

A Promise of Summer

Hopefully the week-end weather is a sign of things to come.  At least hold out for all the upcoming Bank Holidays.  Please!

Though it is a distraction from writing for those of us who pass over pen and paper in preference of the keyboard.  It's not easy to see the screen when the sun is blazing down.  I did manage to get around this last year by rigging up a parasol over the outside table - though this invariable leads to brown legs, white face syndrome.  I suppose there has to be some compromise - can't have it all.  Better perhaps to stick to early morning or late evening writing sessions and treat the sun in the manner to which it has become accustomed; paddling pools, barbecues and litres of after sun!

I've been reading 'The Craft of Fiction: How to become a Novelist,' by Jonathan Falla this week.  It's just been released by Aber Publishing (ISBN:978-1-84285-104-3) and i found it very useful for identifying areas for improvement in my own work.  It covers off Character, Plotting, Narrative structure, Landscape, Dialogue, etc,etc, and there is also a good section on editing.  Well worth a look (albeit another distraction!).  I've also put up a link to Jonathan Falla's website for anyone who is interested.

Finally, i did promise to put up my final entry into the Microfiction competition.  Again, it wasn't a winner, but hey-ho that's the game.

Dangerous Liaison

Without shoes she was stealthy.  Out into the early morning dew she crept, leaving her lover to dream of Parisian nylons.  She’d left those behind too.  A lasting memento for him.

She checked her watch and wound it forward one hour.  She imagined him waking; basking in the glow of the previous night’s passion; preparing his story for the boys.  She smiled.  Uniforms were smart, but they didn’t make men clever.

She opened the briefcase, just to be sure, and ran her finger across the Ministry of Defence document marked ‘Top Secret.’

All’s fair in love and war, she thought.

Sunday, 3 April 2011

A Busy Week!

That was a busy week of writing.  And a much needed break from editing the Book of Whispers.  Coming back to the manuscript this morning with rejuvenated spirit and the mindset of telling a story in just one hundred words has helped me outline chapter twelve, as well as drill right to the heart of the story between Amy and her best friend Jane, and the underlying conflict between them.  Hopefully, this will in turn open up both of their characters so that they really come alive on the page.

I hope some of you had a go at the Microfiction competition.  I think the final day of judging will be on Monday, so I'll post my Friday effort after that.

Friday, 1 April 2011

The Final Day

It's the last day of the Microfiction competition.  I've had one last stab at it.  Can't be any worse than last night's woeful entry.  My only excuse is that i wrote it in under eight minutes. (No, i know...there aren't any excuses.)

Here's my attempt from yesterday.

Forever Young

Alice was perfect in every way. The lips and eyes drawn in an aspect of perpetual expectation, her cheeks pinch-able, her skin without a blemish in the glow of the reading lamp.

Margaret gathered her up and dressed her in the white play suit she had lovingly knitted. She fitted the little hat over her head, and she lay her down in the cot.  Warmth had long since left the sheets, but Margaret's love remained. The new Alice was unbreakable and forever young.

If only her daughter had been made from the same synthetics.