The glory of a good tale is that it is limitless and fluid; a good tale belongs to each reader in its own particular way. – Stephen King
Democracy (99 word story) #FlashFiction #amwriting #scifi
Toying with the idea of confronting him, she settled on a frosty glare. She’d studied demographics on the screen, how he’d likely voted. Both considered themselves patriotic inhabitants, residing in shadows of metallic structures.
“Democracy,” he said, removing his helmet. “I’m entitled to vote Neptune out of the Solar System. We’re independent. Should never have joined those interplanetary bureaucrats.”
“Who do you think funded these?” Her eyes flitted to the web of skyscrapers and bridges, glinting under artificial sunshine panels.
“We’re unshackled.” He gestured to the galaxy. “Our future is brighter.”
“Who knows?” She stared into the dark abyss.
My Special Day #amwriting #FlashFiction #100words #drabble
My bridesmaid helps secure the clasp of the gold necklace under my blonde curls.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze her hand and admire our reflections, applying a touch more lip gloss.
“How are you feeling?”
“Nervous.”
“It’s going to be the best day of your life.”
“Am I doing the right thing? I’m too old for all of this.”
“You deserve happiness. Everybody will be thinking that.” She veils me with hairspray.
“We should have chosen a different venue.”
“No, the local pub is the perfect place to celebrate.”
She pours me more Prosecco. We clink glasses.
“To divorce.”
(Also posted on Drablr.)
Flesh #Drabble #amwriting #100 words
From his vantage point he scans the energetic horde, a blur of animated limbs. He is indifferent to the shrieking of the brassy smart-ass posse. He ruthlessly ignores the shy glances of a certain pupil. His buzz begins with the methodical task of seeking out the least confident and physically weakest teenagers.
They’re the targets he monitors closely. He imagines flesh, cold and rigid, cradled within his muscular arms. Lips numb and blue, bruised by his force. Chests examined under his palms. Restrained.
As the lifeguard, he’s never had to use his resuscitation techniques at the swimming pool. Yet.
(I originally posted this drabble on Drablr in July 2015).
Long Distance Relationship #Drabble #amwriting #100words
I gave him a kiss then let him go to the ferry. “Call me when you get there.”
I stood alone. Left behind on the windswept dock yet again. I imagined the alluring girls waiting at his university. Eager and sophisticated. More worldly wise than wide-eyed islanders like us. He’d assured me that he’d resisted the temptations of the mainland last semester. Swamped with assignments he’d said. No time for the parties.
Liar!
I watched him wave from the deck and blew him a kiss. “Goodbye my love.”
His response floated across on the wind and spray. “Bye Dad.”
(I originally posted this drabble on Drablr in January 2015).
Love many. Trust few. Always paddle your own canoe. #WednesdayWisdom #amwriting
Love many. Trust few. Always paddle your own canoe.
Are multiple blogs about writing a good idea?
When I decided to blog about writing, I created two blogs:
Head Over Writing to blog about all things writing. A place to share writing courses, things I’ve learned, quotes, book reviews, prompts, snippets. Random and quirky things related to reading and writing fiction. (Twitter: @HeadOverWriting)
Also, KJ Carine (A fiction writer’s journey) – more of an “author blog” to specifically blog about MY writing process and projects – currently writing short stories for magazines. (Twitter: @KJCarine)
My questions are:
Do multiple blogs dilute the impact that a single writing blog would have? Or is a single blog sometimes less appealing if it tries to cover everything?
Do you have one writing blog, or more?
Are you thinking about creating additional blogs, or consolidating multiple blogs?
Please share your thoughts or experiences in the comments section. I’m interested in hearing and learning from all of you about this!
Annie Proulx interview #quote #amwriting #amreading
“My mind is as full of ideas as a jar of bees.” – Annie Proulx
Quick review: ‘The Shipping News’ by Annie Proulx
“Hive-spangled, gut roaring with gas and cramp, he survived childhood; at the state university, hand clapped over his chin, he camouflaged torment with smiles and silence.”
Quoyle is a loser who hates himself. After the death of his estranged wife he moves to his ancestral home in Newfoundland and begins a journey of self-discovery. He finds friendship, love and redemption in the bleakest place. Proulx’s creative punctuation and magnificent prose is addictive to read. It’s like poetic and breathtaking literary crack! The plot, characters and setting are honest, compelling and deliver on every level.
The Colours in Your Vials. FutureLearn ‘Start Writing Fiction’ course. Exercise 3.12 – Generate something new.
Written for the Future Learn ‘Start Writing Fiction’ course. Exercise 3.12 – Generate something new
Academics infuriate Amber Lewis and David Ramos is the worst of all...
The Colours in Your Vials
“Stop. Right There!”
Hearing a male with a divine European accent made Amber Lewis jump. Spanish? Italian? Portuguese?
She turned to see the vision of glinting espresso eyes and jet hair. Perfect stubble surrounding a snarling mouth. Designer jeans, white T-shirt and probably a fragrance from an aspirational advertisement.
“What are you doing with my samples?” growled the Latino male model, clearly teleported by accident into the antiquity of British academia.
“Just admiring the colours in your vials.” Amber smoothed her blonde ponytail.
“Empty the bins and get out. I’m meeting that idiot from Zaxifor in here shortly.”
“Well, I better stay then,” Amber failed to suppress the flicker of anger. He thought she was the janitor. “Professor Ramos? I’m Amber Lewis from Zaxifor.”
“Who?” David Ramos grunted. “Where’s Doctor Portland? Is he coming?”
Amber felt her hackles rising. David Ramos might not look like the academics she usually met with, but he certainly had the social inadequacies and arrogance that she had become accustomed to lately.
“Call me Amber. I hate using formalities. I think Doctor should be reserved for medics, don’t you?” Amber hoped feigning ambivalence about her title would make his blood boil further.
“Where did you you read Doctor Lewis?”
“On the train this morning. I have a Kindle app on my mobile phone,” Amber smirked, not wanting to get into that game of one upmanship of academic establishments.
“I meant where did you study…” David tailed off in irritation.
“Somewhere good enough to get myself a real job.”
“You clearly have a low opinion of us academics, Miss Lewis,” David glared. “Which is surprising seeing as you need us to do your company’s research.”
“It’s called leverage,” Amber smiled. “My time is better spent on business critical activities. Not in the laboratory.”
“Come to my office,” David fumed. “I want to show you something.”
Amber felt a weakening in her stride as she followed him.
Head Over Writing 