So as the curtain silently falls on NANO 2010 my total is 39,583 - just 10K or so short of my 50K deadline for today!
Am I dissappointed? A little! I would have loved to have been able to go on to the official Nano site and upload the whole 50K - but we don't always get what we want in life!
It's hard to write and do the day job at the same time, so I guess I am being a little bit hard on myself - let's face it just under 40K is not so bad.
I am determined that I will finish before the end of December - at the very least by the 31st! At least then I can set to working on this draft.
My biggest concern was that in trying to achieve the 50K I'd write a load of drivel - I'm hoping that in not achieving it I've avoided the drivel (laughing)!!!
I will take time to read through what I've written this month and I shall come back and log my thoughts here. Writing for 30 days with this deadline hanging over my head has kept me focussed to a certain degree - for me this is a plus. Will it have been worth it? Only if what I've written is worthy of holding onto - otherwise it'll be a frustrating task if I start deleting loads and depleting that wordcount!
Tuesday 30 November 2010
Wednesday 3 November 2010
It's all about the wordcount @ Nano!
So ... I'm just over 6K words in - not bad - major clap on the back for this girl :)
Question is, can I keep going at this pace - not so sure! One of my biggest worries about Nano is that you push yourself to write (quite possibly a load of drivel) because you need to keep the wordcount up there in order to finish on time.
So here's my question. Is there any point? Who wants to have to start at the end of 30 days and try to edit a load of drivel?
But there again - it may not be drivel - it may in fact be the most wonderful writing any of us who are in there have ever put to paper!
I wonder how many people have finished Nano and never actually done anything with their manuscript?
Question is, can I keep going at this pace - not so sure! One of my biggest worries about Nano is that you push yourself to write (quite possibly a load of drivel) because you need to keep the wordcount up there in order to finish on time.
So here's my question. Is there any point? Who wants to have to start at the end of 30 days and try to edit a load of drivel?
But there again - it may not be drivel - it may in fact be the most wonderful writing any of us who are in there have ever put to paper!
I wonder how many people have finished Nano and never actually done anything with their manuscript?
Monday 1 November 2010
Tuesday 26 October 2010
Critique on After Dark by Mills & Boon Editor
Spooky title…am I in for a spooky story?!
What we liked…
•You’ve done a fantastic job making first person narrative work for you – congrats! It’s not easy…
•You’ve certainly intrigued this reader into wanting to find answers… why did she need treatment, who and what is James Alexander?! We need to know…
What’s not working so well…
•I’m struggling to work out what I’m reading – is this going to be erotica or paranormal? It’s nice to know what genre you’re in…
•Yes, older men are hot (go vampires and Mr Knightley) but they can also be creepy (Dickensian child-bride) so I think the line needs to be straddled delicately especially if the desire sparks in an eight-year-old-girl…
•I think the narrative is strong and the dialogue nice and snappy – but the juxtaposition of the two jars – the tone feels different. Have a think about how you could integrate them better
Getting this made entering the competition worthwhile. After they had chosen their Top 10 and I hadn't made it, I kind of felt a bit empty ... and then along came this!!
What we liked…
•You’ve done a fantastic job making first person narrative work for you – congrats! It’s not easy…
•You’ve certainly intrigued this reader into wanting to find answers… why did she need treatment, who and what is James Alexander?! We need to know…
What’s not working so well…
•I’m struggling to work out what I’m reading – is this going to be erotica or paranormal? It’s nice to know what genre you’re in…
•Yes, older men are hot (go vampires and Mr Knightley) but they can also be creepy (Dickensian child-bride) so I think the line needs to be straddled delicately especially if the desire sparks in an eight-year-old-girl…
•I think the narrative is strong and the dialogue nice and snappy – but the juxtaposition of the two jars – the tone feels different. Have a think about how you could integrate them better
Getting this made entering the competition worthwhile. After they had chosen their Top 10 and I hadn't made it, I kind of felt a bit empty ... and then along came this!!
Nano @ Harlequin
http://community.eharlequin.com/forums/write-stuff/nanowrimo-2010-sign-sheet
One crazy month of writing ... can it be done? Either way, I guess there is no harm in trying!
One crazy month of writing ... can it be done? Either way, I guess there is no harm in trying!
Tuesday 19 October 2010
Writers Challenge Winner @ Harlequin - No Lips Moving
She didn’t know quite why or even how she’d become attracted to the man, but nevertheless, she had. Let’s face it; it wasn’t like they had anything in common. Her mum had brought her up to be a simple girl with simple tastes in life. She wasn’t pretty like the other girls in school. Once, they’d all been asked to describe themselves using colour – her choices had been brown and cream. That was the way people generally viewed her now – brown and cream – dull and boring.
So, how did dull and boring et al brown and cream come to be attracted to the rich burgundy/claret that was her colour description for Alexander McCann?
Shivers ran the full length of her spine. Just thinking about the man did that to her. He was different from the other men in the office, not that she’d had any experience in that department.
One of the guys, James, tossed a furtive glance her way. She broke out in a cold sweat. Gathering the drafts from off her desk she disappeared quickly into one of the large meeting rooms. When it came to relationships, James would have her. But then James would have anything that wore a skirt and faintly resembled a woman! She shuddered.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Karlee, one of the other editors. “Hi Amy. Not like you to be first in the room.”
Amelia cringed. She felt like screaming ‘Amelia, my name’s Amelia’, but there’d be no point. Karlee never listened to anyone let alone her. Instead, she smiled and acknowledged her. Karlee had a point though. She was never first in the room - too scared of being alone with the beautifully sculpted Alexander McCann.
Karlee forged on with conversation, totally oblivious of Amelia’s faint annoyance. “So, are you going to the New Writers’ Awards Friday evening?”
“Of course she is.” Amelia didn’t have to turn around, for she recognised the soft velvety tone of his voice only too well.
Karlee was temporarily stunned. Not many people had the ability to do that, Amelia thought, at the same time feeling slightly smug.
“Now, now Amelia .... be nice.” Amelia’s head spun round, but he had his back to her.
Karlee looked at her. “What?” She exclaimed.
Amelia shook her head in bewilderment. “I’m sorry – I could have sworn you spoke to me.” She lied, not that Karlee would notice.
“There you go again ..... not nice Amelia.” Her eyes scanned the room – he wasn’t there – where had he gone?
She busied herself with the drafts sitting in front of her. Concentrate – that’s what she needed to do. Voices in her head ... what next?
“Not voices Amelia. Just. One. Voice.” He said, accentuating each word in that soft, velvety tone which had the ability to set every nerve in her body tingling.
Her head flew up again, but this time he was in the room. She frowned. An appointment with a shrink might not be a bad idea.
“No need.” He replied to her thoughts.
She kept her mind blank after that. If he was playing mind games, well then she wasn’t playing, or thinking, or doing anything in fact!
Still she couldn’t help from watching him. Everything about the man invited her to do that. The sound of his voice, his devastating good looks, his cologne – everything!
“Why thank you.” He drawled. She swore she could hear laughter in his voice. Was he making fun of dull and boring, brown and cream?
“You’re far from that, quite the opposite in fact.” He interjected. “I’d say you’re more a ‘creme brulee’ – soft, smooth, inviting and definitely moreish, very very moreish!”
She blushed profusely and couldn’t bring herself to look at him. But he was smiling, this she knew, because she could hear it in his voice.
“Stop teasing her Alex, it’s not fair.” A second voice appeared in the ‘no lips moving’ conversation.
She was silently freaking out now. Could they sense this? She wasn’t sure.
“Sense what?” He asked.
She thought for a moment before answering. “I’m guessing you can hear my thoughts, but not sense my feelings.”
“Oooh she’s good.” The second voice jumped in again.
Gathering courage, Amelia continued. “Who are you?”
“I’m Mia – Alex’s baby sister.” The second voice replied.
“I’m very pleased to meet you.” Amelia replied. Was she mad? She needed to stop this now, before it went too far.
“I’m afraid you’re too late Amelia.” Alexander McCann replied in that same enticing tone. “Scared?”
“No.” Amelia replied, a little too bravely, for her own liking. “Should I be?”
He didn’t answer, or maybe in some macabre manner he had, but instead forged on with their Monday morning meeting.
“Okay folks, let’s have some order around the table – this month’s writing competition. One thousand words to include apple cider, scarecrow and sunrise. Seriously – who chose these words?”
All fingers in the room pointed to Karlee.
“Have dinner with me this evening. I’ll pick you up around 8pm.” He whispered into her mind.
She didn’t answer him, but instead asked - “How are you doing this?”
“Don’t you mean we?” He shot back.
“No – I mean you! I’m not the one having a three-way conversation.”
“You could say it’s a special gift – comes with the species.”
Her blood ran cold ... species?
He continued with the meeting, but she was no longer listening.
“So, he intruded her thoughts again. What do you say – you, me, dinner at 8?”
“No! Not on your life!”
He laughed out loud now and everyone else in the room frowned.
“What did I say that was so funny?” She whispered quietly into his mind, still not having a clue as to how she could be doing this.
“Have dinner with me this evening, and I’ll tell you.”
She frowned. “What are you doing now? “ She was confused. “Are you messing with my mind?”
He smiled. “I’m just making sure you join me for dinner.”
“I’ll be there.” She whispered.
So, how did dull and boring et al brown and cream come to be attracted to the rich burgundy/claret that was her colour description for Alexander McCann?
Shivers ran the full length of her spine. Just thinking about the man did that to her. He was different from the other men in the office, not that she’d had any experience in that department.
One of the guys, James, tossed a furtive glance her way. She broke out in a cold sweat. Gathering the drafts from off her desk she disappeared quickly into one of the large meeting rooms. When it came to relationships, James would have her. But then James would have anything that wore a skirt and faintly resembled a woman! She shuddered.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Karlee, one of the other editors. “Hi Amy. Not like you to be first in the room.”
Amelia cringed. She felt like screaming ‘Amelia, my name’s Amelia’, but there’d be no point. Karlee never listened to anyone let alone her. Instead, she smiled and acknowledged her. Karlee had a point though. She was never first in the room - too scared of being alone with the beautifully sculpted Alexander McCann.
Karlee forged on with conversation, totally oblivious of Amelia’s faint annoyance. “So, are you going to the New Writers’ Awards Friday evening?”
“Of course she is.” Amelia didn’t have to turn around, for she recognised the soft velvety tone of his voice only too well.
Karlee was temporarily stunned. Not many people had the ability to do that, Amelia thought, at the same time feeling slightly smug.
“Now, now Amelia .... be nice.” Amelia’s head spun round, but he had his back to her.
Karlee looked at her. “What?” She exclaimed.
Amelia shook her head in bewilderment. “I’m sorry – I could have sworn you spoke to me.” She lied, not that Karlee would notice.
“There you go again ..... not nice Amelia.” Her eyes scanned the room – he wasn’t there – where had he gone?
She busied herself with the drafts sitting in front of her. Concentrate – that’s what she needed to do. Voices in her head ... what next?
“Not voices Amelia. Just. One. Voice.” He said, accentuating each word in that soft, velvety tone which had the ability to set every nerve in her body tingling.
Her head flew up again, but this time he was in the room. She frowned. An appointment with a shrink might not be a bad idea.
“No need.” He replied to her thoughts.
She kept her mind blank after that. If he was playing mind games, well then she wasn’t playing, or thinking, or doing anything in fact!
Still she couldn’t help from watching him. Everything about the man invited her to do that. The sound of his voice, his devastating good looks, his cologne – everything!
“Why thank you.” He drawled. She swore she could hear laughter in his voice. Was he making fun of dull and boring, brown and cream?
“You’re far from that, quite the opposite in fact.” He interjected. “I’d say you’re more a ‘creme brulee’ – soft, smooth, inviting and definitely moreish, very very moreish!”
She blushed profusely and couldn’t bring herself to look at him. But he was smiling, this she knew, because she could hear it in his voice.
“Stop teasing her Alex, it’s not fair.” A second voice appeared in the ‘no lips moving’ conversation.
She was silently freaking out now. Could they sense this? She wasn’t sure.
“Sense what?” He asked.
She thought for a moment before answering. “I’m guessing you can hear my thoughts, but not sense my feelings.”
“Oooh she’s good.” The second voice jumped in again.
Gathering courage, Amelia continued. “Who are you?”
“I’m Mia – Alex’s baby sister.” The second voice replied.
“I’m very pleased to meet you.” Amelia replied. Was she mad? She needed to stop this now, before it went too far.
“I’m afraid you’re too late Amelia.” Alexander McCann replied in that same enticing tone. “Scared?”
“No.” Amelia replied, a little too bravely, for her own liking. “Should I be?”
He didn’t answer, or maybe in some macabre manner he had, but instead forged on with their Monday morning meeting.
“Okay folks, let’s have some order around the table – this month’s writing competition. One thousand words to include apple cider, scarecrow and sunrise. Seriously – who chose these words?”
All fingers in the room pointed to Karlee.
“Have dinner with me this evening. I’ll pick you up around 8pm.” He whispered into her mind.
She didn’t answer him, but instead asked - “How are you doing this?”
“Don’t you mean we?” He shot back.
“No – I mean you! I’m not the one having a three-way conversation.”
“You could say it’s a special gift – comes with the species.”
Her blood ran cold ... species?
He continued with the meeting, but she was no longer listening.
“So, he intruded her thoughts again. What do you say – you, me, dinner at 8?”
“No! Not on your life!”
He laughed out loud now and everyone else in the room frowned.
“What did I say that was so funny?” She whispered quietly into his mind, still not having a clue as to how she could be doing this.
“Have dinner with me this evening, and I’ll tell you.”
She frowned. “What are you doing now? “ She was confused. “Are you messing with my mind?”
He smiled. “I’m just making sure you join me for dinner.”
“I’ll be there.” She whispered.
Wednesday 6 October 2010
Ten little Critters sitting on a wall ...
So the ten little critters await their critique by the M&B Team ... eeek! I'm feeling the pain ... because I'm one of the critters waiting for the critique! Now for someone who has, up until now, shied away from the whole 'submit' thing, you'd wonder at me putting mine forward for public humiliation ... sorry I meant critique - my bad! It's their job to rip it apart, I know, because in the end that's what makes it better or perfect or whatever. Still, it's mine and I really like it. I love this chapter like I love my little boy, but I feel soooo helpless ... ugh!
Tuesday 28 September 2010
New Voices Competition ... first stage over! WELL DONE TO THE TOP 10!
So the first stage is over ... and no - After Dark remains in the dark. It was a good experience, but like the other 811 people who were not successful, I'm left wondering what needs to be fixed. Yes we all got feedback in varying degrees from the people who read the stories, but for me, it's not quite the same as getting feedback from an editor. I can see where I could make a couple of specific changes to clear up confusion based on comments left by readers, but for me, this is not enough. Feeling a little bit frustrated right now!
On the bright side ... I found another very cool competition to write 2K words for and it's deadline is February 2011!
On the bright side ... I found another very cool competition to write 2K words for and it's deadline is February 2011!
Sunday 19 September 2010
Link to New Voices Competition ...
http://www.romanceisnotdead.com/Entries/55-After-Dark/Chapter-One
This is the link to After Dark, Chapter One.
This is the link to After Dark, Chapter One.
New Volices Competition
So ... I've took my heart in my hands and entered a chapter of After Dark. Would so love to go through to the next round, but there is some stiff competition out there. Fingers crossed xx!
Wednesday 25 August 2010
Fav Line
Jared raised his head slowly to face his adversary. A low, gravelly growl escaped his throat. He’d have the lifeless piece of shit if it was the last thing he did this century.
Tuesday 3 August 2010
Authonomy ....
I joined the site ... but I'm still not sure. People go in there and upload their work for all and sundry to see and comment on. On the whole there does seem to be some good, genuine, constructive feedback, but I'm not sure ....
Saturday 31 July 2010
Writers Challenge ... 1st August
Most people fall asleep on the transfer coach to resort, but not me. As the coach wends its way through mountainous terrain towards our destination, I rest my head against the cool glass window and stare at nothing in particular.
My body is tired, but my mind is alert. Full of thoughts that I’d rather not think about right now. What am I doing here? Am I out of my mind ... possibly.
A soundless sigh escapes my lips and clouds the glass. A new beginning – that’s why I’m here, to start again.
A sharp pain stabs at my heart and a little voice whispers inside my mind – ‘so why come here’?
The coach turns left and makes its way along the final winding mountain road which will lead me to my destination. Tiny nerves jangle around inside my stomach – maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
No. I needed to do this and why not start my new life with an extended holiday in a place that I’m familiar with – there’s nothing wrong with that. But my conscience taunts me still – ‘fool’ it whispers back.
I ignore it. For the past seventeen years I have devoted my life to a man who cared more for himself than he ever did me. But worst of all, I think, I have lived my life in the shadow of my siblings – my two sisters have perfect size 10 figures with beautiful silky straight hair. I’m a size 12 with naturally curly hair, which if not straightened, resembles the mane of a lion. They are the life and soul of the party as it were – I’m the quiet, gentle one.
I watch as we approach the City with its host of multi-coloured shimmering lights. Just like me, it never sleeps.
For three months this shall be my home. Just me – no siblings or other family to speak of and no ex husband living his life on my doorstep.
My heart starts to race as my destination looms ahead. Even after three years the streets are still familiar and bring memories flooding back I’d sooner forget.
In truth, the man that I secretly love lives here in blissful ignorance. Why did I never tell him, you might ask? It’s quite simple. The man that I love is in love with one of my perfect sisters ... and so when she is around, he doesn’t quite see me.
The sea is the deepest azure blue against the pure white sand that hugs the bay. I’ve expended a lot on this trip. My private villa overlooks the bay away from the hustle and bustle of the City – no-one will disturb me here.
As my transfer coach pulls into the side of the road I’m suddenly overcome with tiredness. It’s a short walk down the winding driveway lined with lemon trees to my quiet sanctuary.
Once inside, I choose a bedroom overlooking the bay and slip between the cool white sheets. Exhaustion takes over and my mind is blank at last.
Some hours later I awake and go in search of the kitchen. I hadn’t thought to ask for the fridge to be stocked with essentials, so there is nothing but an empty void where food should be.
I’m forced to join the rest of the world, so I slip into a cotton sundress, pull on some pumps and set about finding a number for a taxi company from the list of essential numbers left for me by the Agent.
Kippa ... Turkey’s answer to Tesco in UK speak. I skulk around isles afraid of bumping into anyone I know ... well actually one in particular. Of course I’m being an idiot in many ways – let’s face it, apart from anything else, he’d be working this time of day and secondly he may not even be in Marmaris. I’ve long since given up on keeping track of his residential status – like I said – he’s so not interested in me.
Of course, as I skulk through the endless isles of food, I can’t help but wonder where he is – what he might be doing and my heart starts to palpitate again.
The smell of the rich pungent spices makes me want to visit the bazaar in town – to soak up the atmosphere as it were.
Would I be safe in the centre of Marmaris? Could I lose myself well enough in the crowd to remain unseen?
I’m reminded by the tiny voice in my head that I didn’t come to Marmaris to hide. I came to start again and so I take the Number Two bus into the centre of town. Now I’m playing with fire.
We drive past the apartment block where I used to stay and the memories flood back. Down past the Cemetery and another apartment block ... bitter sweet memories rush through my mind. I’m relieved when the journey is over.
Carrying my one small bag of provisions, I’m drawn to the water front where tourists lie drenched in coconut smelling lotions soaking up the mid-day sun. My eyes are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.
At the farthest end of the beach I find myself drawn to a young girl perched on the side of a pedalo boat. Her back is arched towards the sand and her hair gently caresses the water below.
I’m so amazed by the supple young body as it arches back farther still that I don’t notice the photographer, but then he speaks; and as he does, my head comes reeling round and I’m face to face with him.
For the first time ever in my life he sees me. A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of his lips as his soft velvet eyes gaze at me from where he stands. Suddenly he is walking towards me, and I know I should run, but I can’t.
Then, as he takes me in his arms, he whispers in my ear ‘what kept you?’
My body is tired, but my mind is alert. Full of thoughts that I’d rather not think about right now. What am I doing here? Am I out of my mind ... possibly.
A soundless sigh escapes my lips and clouds the glass. A new beginning – that’s why I’m here, to start again.
A sharp pain stabs at my heart and a little voice whispers inside my mind – ‘so why come here’?
The coach turns left and makes its way along the final winding mountain road which will lead me to my destination. Tiny nerves jangle around inside my stomach – maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
No. I needed to do this and why not start my new life with an extended holiday in a place that I’m familiar with – there’s nothing wrong with that. But my conscience taunts me still – ‘fool’ it whispers back.
I ignore it. For the past seventeen years I have devoted my life to a man who cared more for himself than he ever did me. But worst of all, I think, I have lived my life in the shadow of my siblings – my two sisters have perfect size 10 figures with beautiful silky straight hair. I’m a size 12 with naturally curly hair, which if not straightened, resembles the mane of a lion. They are the life and soul of the party as it were – I’m the quiet, gentle one.
I watch as we approach the City with its host of multi-coloured shimmering lights. Just like me, it never sleeps.
For three months this shall be my home. Just me – no siblings or other family to speak of and no ex husband living his life on my doorstep.
My heart starts to race as my destination looms ahead. Even after three years the streets are still familiar and bring memories flooding back I’d sooner forget.
In truth, the man that I secretly love lives here in blissful ignorance. Why did I never tell him, you might ask? It’s quite simple. The man that I love is in love with one of my perfect sisters ... and so when she is around, he doesn’t quite see me.
The sea is the deepest azure blue against the pure white sand that hugs the bay. I’ve expended a lot on this trip. My private villa overlooks the bay away from the hustle and bustle of the City – no-one will disturb me here.
As my transfer coach pulls into the side of the road I’m suddenly overcome with tiredness. It’s a short walk down the winding driveway lined with lemon trees to my quiet sanctuary.
Once inside, I choose a bedroom overlooking the bay and slip between the cool white sheets. Exhaustion takes over and my mind is blank at last.
Some hours later I awake and go in search of the kitchen. I hadn’t thought to ask for the fridge to be stocked with essentials, so there is nothing but an empty void where food should be.
I’m forced to join the rest of the world, so I slip into a cotton sundress, pull on some pumps and set about finding a number for a taxi company from the list of essential numbers left for me by the Agent.
Kippa ... Turkey’s answer to Tesco in UK speak. I skulk around isles afraid of bumping into anyone I know ... well actually one in particular. Of course I’m being an idiot in many ways – let’s face it, apart from anything else, he’d be working this time of day and secondly he may not even be in Marmaris. I’ve long since given up on keeping track of his residential status – like I said – he’s so not interested in me.
Of course, as I skulk through the endless isles of food, I can’t help but wonder where he is – what he might be doing and my heart starts to palpitate again.
The smell of the rich pungent spices makes me want to visit the bazaar in town – to soak up the atmosphere as it were.
Would I be safe in the centre of Marmaris? Could I lose myself well enough in the crowd to remain unseen?
I’m reminded by the tiny voice in my head that I didn’t come to Marmaris to hide. I came to start again and so I take the Number Two bus into the centre of town. Now I’m playing with fire.
We drive past the apartment block where I used to stay and the memories flood back. Down past the Cemetery and another apartment block ... bitter sweet memories rush through my mind. I’m relieved when the journey is over.
Carrying my one small bag of provisions, I’m drawn to the water front where tourists lie drenched in coconut smelling lotions soaking up the mid-day sun. My eyes are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.
At the farthest end of the beach I find myself drawn to a young girl perched on the side of a pedalo boat. Her back is arched towards the sand and her hair gently caresses the water below.
I’m so amazed by the supple young body as it arches back farther still that I don’t notice the photographer, but then he speaks; and as he does, my head comes reeling round and I’m face to face with him.
For the first time ever in my life he sees me. A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of his lips as his soft velvet eyes gaze at me from where he stands. Suddenly he is walking towards me, and I know I should run, but I can’t.
Then, as he takes me in his arms, he whispers in my ear ‘what kept you?’
Thursday 1 July 2010
Not a Clue!
You'd think that after skulking around on Websites like Harlequin or Mills & Boon or Samhain that I'd have some notion as to who I'd eventually approach for publishing .... correction the first of many knockbacks lol!
NOT A CLUE!
This must be why I'm sitting with a copy of Writers & Artists Yearbook 2011 .... still not a clue, but then it's a very very big book!
Now ... back to work!
NOT A CLUE!
This must be why I'm sitting with a copy of Writers & Artists Yearbook 2011 .... still not a clue, but then it's a very very big book!
Now ... back to work!
Wednesday 30 June 2010
Step Away From The Book .....
Now here's the deal - you start to write a chapter - if you're lucky you've called it something more than just a number. This is good, I'm thinking, because it gives the reader just a little tiny clue as to what that chapter is about - so far, so good! Then, you start to type. At first, the words flow -so much so you glance at the wordcount thinking 'I must be well through' - again if you're on a roll, you may well be! Then it happens - see you know, or have some vague idea as to what you want to happen in this chapter, but all of a sudden you're stumped - IT'S NOT FLOWING!
CRAP!
So - if you're me, you go downstairs, make yourself a cup of tea and return to the laptop. All of a sudden a little nugget of something starts to flow through and you're off - ONLY TO HIT ANOTHER WALL! Now, while you've been tapping away your tea's gone cold! So - if you're me, you go back downstairs and make another one - thinking - 'this time I'm drinkin it'!
I did this THREE times last night .... yeah - I know you're getting it - I can already see you smiling!
PS: and here I am tonight trying very hard to get back on track ... and you've guessed it (I'm on blogger because I've run out of milk!)!!!
CRAP!
So - if you're me, you go downstairs, make yourself a cup of tea and return to the laptop. All of a sudden a little nugget of something starts to flow through and you're off - ONLY TO HIT ANOTHER WALL! Now, while you've been tapping away your tea's gone cold! So - if you're me, you go back downstairs and make another one - thinking - 'this time I'm drinkin it'!
I did this THREE times last night .... yeah - I know you're getting it - I can already see you smiling!
PS: and here I am tonight trying very hard to get back on track ... and you've guessed it (I'm on blogger because I've run out of milk!)!!!
Wednesday 23 June 2010
End of Day - Fav Line.
Favourite line .....
For a moment she was quiet – mulling everything over in her mind. Then in the distance the haunting howl of a wolf pierced the silence of her room and Elizabeth Rose screamed.
Next chapter begins......but sleep is needed first!
For a moment she was quiet – mulling everything over in her mind. Then in the distance the haunting howl of a wolf pierced the silence of her room and Elizabeth Rose screamed.
Next chapter begins......but sleep is needed first!
I'm a Coward!
I've just realised I'm a coward. For around 18 months or so I've been having fun on EHarl - entering the writing competitions with some great feedback. Of course, this all helps to bolster one's confidence and does get the writing juices flowing. So why is it, when it actually comes down to it, I've never actually submitted to a publisher? Now you could put it down to the fact that maybe I've been trying to make sure that my writing is falling into the genre that my voice best suits - I could go for that! Truth is though, when it comes down to it, I'm scared - scared of that big, bad, 'R'!! Now I'm wondering if I can ever get past the fear long enough to take the first step!
Thursday 17 June 2010
Continuing on - Enemies are Face to Face ...... Let the Battle for the Damsel Begin!
"Don’t you like them?” – I asked quietly, not really wanting to know the answer but needing desperately to find something to take my mind of the building nausea.
Tuesday 15 June 2010
Closing line/s for tonight ......
Did I need protection from James Alexander? What a strange notion. Not once in twenty years had I ever thought I needed protection – so why now?
....... not a bad evening! Progress!
....... not a bad evening! Progress!
Monday 14 June 2010
Fourth Chapter ..... Altered Images
So my three main characters have had their say and whilst I'm not saying that I'll not go back and tweak or indeed even add to what they've said, I'm moving on to Chapter 4! And yes .... it looks like I'm calling it Altered Images - unless something else springs to mind while I'm writing!
We need to talk about Kevin .... by Lionel Shriver
Recently I took a break from reading AN AWFUL LOT OF PARANORMAL (laughling) .... to read something way different - enter - Lionel Shriver and We Need to Talk about Kevin!
Now Kevin is one seriously deranged child, and, like most people, I never saw that ending coming until it hit me a smack in the face!
The book is written as a series of letters from wife to ex husband after their son Kevin kills a few or 12 people in his school!
I believe it's the Catholic Church who say 'give me a child until the age of 5 and I'll show you the man' or words to that effect! This being the case, then Kevin really just never had a hope!
If, as some say, a child can hear you even when it's growing in the womb, then Kevin spent 9 months listening to his father wittering on to his mother about the fact that 'she should watch what she ate - after all - was she not thinking of their child - did she wish to harm it even at this (ahem pre-birth) stage? .... or ..... 'how could you dance around the living room like that - have you no thought for the safety of our unborn child?' ..... and so on and so forth.
Then, after birth, there were all those 'negative vibes' from his mother - because yes, we're also told that children are very perceptive as babies and pick up on that stuff too!
Like I said ..... the child never had a hope of growing up normal, did he?
Anyway - it made for interesting reading, and in many ways, was quite thought provoking for those of us bringing up children.
Now Kevin is one seriously deranged child, and, like most people, I never saw that ending coming until it hit me a smack in the face!
The book is written as a series of letters from wife to ex husband after their son Kevin kills a few or 12 people in his school!
I believe it's the Catholic Church who say 'give me a child until the age of 5 and I'll show you the man' or words to that effect! This being the case, then Kevin really just never had a hope!
If, as some say, a child can hear you even when it's growing in the womb, then Kevin spent 9 months listening to his father wittering on to his mother about the fact that 'she should watch what she ate - after all - was she not thinking of their child - did she wish to harm it even at this (ahem pre-birth) stage? .... or ..... 'how could you dance around the living room like that - have you no thought for the safety of our unborn child?' ..... and so on and so forth.
Then, after birth, there were all those 'negative vibes' from his mother - because yes, we're also told that children are very perceptive as babies and pick up on that stuff too!
Like I said ..... the child never had a hope of growing up normal, did he?
Anyway - it made for interesting reading, and in many ways, was quite thought provoking for those of us bringing up children.
Favourite Line .......
Second Chapter - the hero so far..... favourite line -
"Her blood was cleansed - she was healed and she was mine."
That guy certainly has a way with words!
"Her blood was cleansed - she was healed and she was mine."
That guy certainly has a way with words!
Thursday 27 May 2010
Writer's Challenge - 28 May - New Beginning
Lauren opened her eyes and slowly scanned the room. She’d never been in this house before. Was it a house though or a clinic, maybe not? She had no idea, but whatever it was she had definitely never been here.
Slowly she began to sit up. No – upright wasn’t working - head spinning around and around – her body felt weightless and ugh, she felt sick. Lauren gripped the sides of the bed and let her head fall back into the soft white pillows. Better, she thought. The room was still revolving, but slower now and the nausea was passing.
Images were flashing through her mind, strange, weird images that she couldn’t quite put together, yet they were familiar. Antonio appeared in one of the images. She smiled dreamily for a second and then sat bolt upright in the bed. Ugh, this damned sickness, she thought to herself as she made her way cannily across the room.
Holding onto both sides of the dresser she looked at herself in the mirror. Anticipation and fear collided in the pit of her stomach. She chided herself. Wasn’t this what she had wanted? What she had pleaded for day after day? She stared back at her reflection in the mirror. What she saw there was proof enough, if she needed it at all, but still she looked.
Her fingers came up to gingerly trace the left side of her neck........nothing. Frowning, she turned her head slightly and stared at the long creamy column that was her neck. It was flawless........no trace of anything there. Mmm , maybe it had been her right side, but no, there was nothing there either.
She felt slightly faint now. As she staggered back to the bed something caught her eye. She grabbed hold of the bed to steady herself and held the lapis lazuli ring up to the light. For a moment she was overcome and felt light headed. Climbing back into the bed, she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Well, he had kept part of the promise, the ring part at least, she thought wearily.
Tiny droplets of tears escaped her eyes, flowing silently down her cheeks as realisation began to finally ring home.
In one swift movement Lauren sat up and hurled the ring into mid air with no particular destination.
Antonio caught it effortlessly, frowning as he did so. It was clear that his little newborn was becoming stronger by the hour, but why would she be throwing her ring away with such vehemence. Had she forgotten the importance of the ring?
His preoccupation with the ring threw him off guard and rather than sensing the onslaught, he felt it has her teeth plunged into his neck.
In one swift movement he pulled her away, holding her firmly at length from the wound.
“Hungry darling?”, he murmured. “All in good time. I’ve some willing donors downstairs.”
Lauren frowned. What the hell had she just done, and why could she not taste blood? She licked her lips slowly, savouring the sweet, sticky, berry flavoured, yes definitely berry flavoured substance. Her eyes travelled slowly to Antonio’s neck. She must be seriously ill, hallucinating, that was it. Just as well, coz she could have sworn her teeth had gotten tore into her boyfriend, and yet, stranger still, where had the berry flavoured substance come from?
She shook her head, as if to bring herself out of a trance. Ill, she was definitely ill, because she could have sworn Antonio had just said donors. No – he had said donors. Maybe she needed a donor. That was it, she was ill, that would explain the feelings of weakness just now, the dizzy spells earlier. She’d had some terrible accident – why that’s what the mixed up images were all about – blood – she just needed a transfusion and then everything would be okay. It was all making sense now, this was wasn’t a house, it was a hospital or a clinic of some description.
Antonio was watching Lauren. She was relaxing, he could feel it, sense it in every bone of her beautiful body. Suddenly, remembering the lapis lazuli ring, he lifted her hand saying, “we should put this on, and remember, it needs to stay there.”
She found her voice, it was clipped and short. “I don’t see why.”
Antonio frowned. “Darling, don’t you remember what I told you about the ring and it’s importance?”
Lauren spat back – “Oh I remember perfectly, evidently ......
The room door flew open and Carla came rushing in, either not sensing the tension in the room or as was more likely to be the case, choosing to ignore it.
“So, how is our newborn vampire?”
Lauren answered in a flash – “Still human!”
Antonio frowned. “Why would you think that Lauren?”, he asked softly.
She turned on him replying hysterically – “Because I checked.”
“Checked for what?”
“For marks, marks on my neck where you bit me, you imbecile.”
Carla started laughing, and with the speed of lightening itself, Lauren flew across the room and pinned the younger woman to the wall.
“Get her off me Toni – explain to her.”
“Explain what?”, Lauren spat out through clenched teeth at the same time thinking, what the hell is hurting my tongue?
Antonio prized her away from his sister and took her to stand in front of the mirror.
“Look, he said gently.
“I see nothing”, she cut in.
“You won’t, WE heal quickly.”
Realisation dawned slowly. Lauren propelled herself around in Antonio’s arms.
“You turned me, you made me a vampire.”
“You’ll not be a vampire for much longer if you don’t wear the ring.”
“I’ll never take it off”, Lauren replied breathlessly.
“Now, you must eat, you are weak from the turning.”
Lauren groaned and replied, “Oh Antonio, I’m not at all sure that I can, I mean, you said that you had um donors?”
“Don’t worry baby, for your first time, we decanted. We have the rest of our lives to go hunting together.”
Slowly she began to sit up. No – upright wasn’t working - head spinning around and around – her body felt weightless and ugh, she felt sick. Lauren gripped the sides of the bed and let her head fall back into the soft white pillows. Better, she thought. The room was still revolving, but slower now and the nausea was passing.
Images were flashing through her mind, strange, weird images that she couldn’t quite put together, yet they were familiar. Antonio appeared in one of the images. She smiled dreamily for a second and then sat bolt upright in the bed. Ugh, this damned sickness, she thought to herself as she made her way cannily across the room.
Holding onto both sides of the dresser she looked at herself in the mirror. Anticipation and fear collided in the pit of her stomach. She chided herself. Wasn’t this what she had wanted? What she had pleaded for day after day? She stared back at her reflection in the mirror. What she saw there was proof enough, if she needed it at all, but still she looked.
Her fingers came up to gingerly trace the left side of her neck........nothing. Frowning, she turned her head slightly and stared at the long creamy column that was her neck. It was flawless........no trace of anything there. Mmm , maybe it had been her right side, but no, there was nothing there either.
She felt slightly faint now. As she staggered back to the bed something caught her eye. She grabbed hold of the bed to steady herself and held the lapis lazuli ring up to the light. For a moment she was overcome and felt light headed. Climbing back into the bed, she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Well, he had kept part of the promise, the ring part at least, she thought wearily.
Tiny droplets of tears escaped her eyes, flowing silently down her cheeks as realisation began to finally ring home.
In one swift movement Lauren sat up and hurled the ring into mid air with no particular destination.
Antonio caught it effortlessly, frowning as he did so. It was clear that his little newborn was becoming stronger by the hour, but why would she be throwing her ring away with such vehemence. Had she forgotten the importance of the ring?
His preoccupation with the ring threw him off guard and rather than sensing the onslaught, he felt it has her teeth plunged into his neck.
In one swift movement he pulled her away, holding her firmly at length from the wound.
“Hungry darling?”, he murmured. “All in good time. I’ve some willing donors downstairs.”
Lauren frowned. What the hell had she just done, and why could she not taste blood? She licked her lips slowly, savouring the sweet, sticky, berry flavoured, yes definitely berry flavoured substance. Her eyes travelled slowly to Antonio’s neck. She must be seriously ill, hallucinating, that was it. Just as well, coz she could have sworn her teeth had gotten tore into her boyfriend, and yet, stranger still, where had the berry flavoured substance come from?
She shook her head, as if to bring herself out of a trance. Ill, she was definitely ill, because she could have sworn Antonio had just said donors. No – he had said donors. Maybe she needed a donor. That was it, she was ill, that would explain the feelings of weakness just now, the dizzy spells earlier. She’d had some terrible accident – why that’s what the mixed up images were all about – blood – she just needed a transfusion and then everything would be okay. It was all making sense now, this was wasn’t a house, it was a hospital or a clinic of some description.
Antonio was watching Lauren. She was relaxing, he could feel it, sense it in every bone of her beautiful body. Suddenly, remembering the lapis lazuli ring, he lifted her hand saying, “we should put this on, and remember, it needs to stay there.”
She found her voice, it was clipped and short. “I don’t see why.”
Antonio frowned. “Darling, don’t you remember what I told you about the ring and it’s importance?”
Lauren spat back – “Oh I remember perfectly, evidently ......
The room door flew open and Carla came rushing in, either not sensing the tension in the room or as was more likely to be the case, choosing to ignore it.
“So, how is our newborn vampire?”
Lauren answered in a flash – “Still human!”
Antonio frowned. “Why would you think that Lauren?”, he asked softly.
She turned on him replying hysterically – “Because I checked.”
“Checked for what?”
“For marks, marks on my neck where you bit me, you imbecile.”
Carla started laughing, and with the speed of lightening itself, Lauren flew across the room and pinned the younger woman to the wall.
“Get her off me Toni – explain to her.”
“Explain what?”, Lauren spat out through clenched teeth at the same time thinking, what the hell is hurting my tongue?
Antonio prized her away from his sister and took her to stand in front of the mirror.
“Look, he said gently.
“I see nothing”, she cut in.
“You won’t, WE heal quickly.”
Realisation dawned slowly. Lauren propelled herself around in Antonio’s arms.
“You turned me, you made me a vampire.”
“You’ll not be a vampire for much longer if you don’t wear the ring.”
“I’ll never take it off”, Lauren replied breathlessly.
“Now, you must eat, you are weak from the turning.”
Lauren groaned and replied, “Oh Antonio, I’m not at all sure that I can, I mean, you said that you had um donors?”
“Don’t worry baby, for your first time, we decanted. We have the rest of our lives to go hunting together.”
Monday 19 April 2010
Writing Competitions
So I'm wondering - anyone know of any writing competitions I can throw myself into? I keep wondering how you all seem to come by them.
M
M
Saturday 17 April 2010
Baseball Shower
The message alert tone on Caitlyn’s IPhone pierced the silence of her Sunday morning slumber. Her hand clumsily plundered the bedside table in search of the offending implement. Still drunk with sleep she fought to prise her eyes apart.
One new message. Ugh, Kellie should know better than to disturb her beauty sleep on Sunday morning.
Eyes still not quite focussing, Caitlyn squinted as she read the message.
‘OMG, you’re never gonna believe who the Toxic Stars just signed’, it read.
Caitlyn groaned. Kellie, God help her, had one dream. They were both gonna marry famous baseball players and live in the style they were so not accustomed to!
Her fingers flew over the keyboard in answer.
‘Not interested’.
Her phone chimed again.
‘I know you don’t mean that girl.’
Caitlyn sighed a long slow sigh as her fingers flew over the keyboard again.
‘Okay, so tell me.’
The answer came flying straight back.
‘Wow, I mean only the best pitcher in the game. THE. JACE. STRICKLAND!’
Caitlyn sighed. Like Jace Strickland would ever be interested in a girl like her or even Kellie for that matter, despite her china doll face.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard in answer again.
‘Don’t care. Now I’m going back to sleep. Talk later.’
Later never materialised, but Jace Strickland had, well at least in her dreams. She’d seen photos of him in magazines, so dreaming about that wonderfully carved chest, long strong arms, perfectly sculpted face and those piercing baby blues was no trouble at all.
The piercing trill of her IPhone yanked Caitlyn from what was shaping up to be the dream of her life.
Kellie!
She didn’t get a chance to say a single word. Her best friend did all the talking.
“Girl, where are you? If you don’t get down here in double quick time Kellerman swears this hotel’s gonna be short one maid.”
“CRR...AP”! In disgust, Caitlyn wiped the drool away running steadily down the side of her face. “Kellie, why didn’t you call me earlier? It’s gone ten already.”
“Ahh, Duh. That’s what I’ve been tryin to tell ya girlfriend.”
Caitlyn was dashing around her room, grabbing her housemaid’s uniform, at the same time talking frantically to her best friend.
“Listen; keep Kellerman busy until I get there, pleeeese!”
“Hey girl there is only so much even a friend can do”, Kellie hissed back.
“Yeah well if you don’t, I know one girl who is not gonna be sitting with you in the Legends Suite this coming season”, Caitlyn replied frantically.
“Ha, thought you no longer gave a care”, Kellie sniped back.
“A girl can change her mind! Just deal with Kellerman. I’m on my way”, Caitlyn squeaked, slamming her front door behind her.
“Have you even washed girl?”
“Don’t make me tell you lies Kellie”, and with that Caitlyn hung up.
Jace shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had one pet hate in life and he was doing it right now. Flying!
The only thing that equalled his hate of flying had materialised in the last 48 hours. Two words, Toxic Stars. More like Toxic Vomit, he thought, if their previous record was anything to go by.
Hal Gorman, the team coach, sidled up beside Jace. The team had been excited when they’d heard Jace Strickland had signed up to play with them for the next year. The excitement, evidently, was turning out to be one-sided, from what he could see.
With a long, slow sigh he addressed the newest addition to the team.
“Enjoying the flight?” – he asked tentatively.
“I hate flying”, Jace replied, face poker straight.
Wonderful, Hal thought.
“Well, we’ll be landing in around ten minutes, so I guess you can start to breathe easy”, the older man replied.
“Hate landing”, Jace shot back.
Hal sighed. “Look Jace I know the Stars aren’t exactly the league you’re used to playing in, but hey given them a chance. Let’s face it, you’ve been out of the game for a while, you need to take it slowly.”
Jace gave him a withering look. If Toxic Vomit were anything to go by, he’d barely be out of breath!
The older man turned to go back to his seat.
Caitlyn shot through the fire escape at the back of the hotel. One of these days she was going to lose this two bit job and then her hopes of becoming a reporter for Channel 10 would be well and truly scuppered.
Kellie was skulking around the corridor waiting for her friend.
“I swear girl, one of these days”. The sentence never got finished. Kellerman rounded the corner and the two girls shot for cover.
Spilling out of the lift on the top floor, Caitlyn turned to her friend.
“Ten minutes, just buy me another ten minutes.”
Kellie huffed and puffed but Caitlyn knew she could count on her.
“Fine. Go do whatever it is you have to in Room 410 and then make sure you leave it as you find it. Kellerman’s already inspected it”, Kellie replied sternly.
Caitlyn frowned. But, there was no time to ask questions. She dashed down the hallway and disappeared into Room 410.
Room 410 was the equivalent to any other hotel’s Presidential Suite. Caitlyn smiled. She was born to lounge in rooms like this!
Tweaking a strawberry of the large fruit platter, she threw her bag on the bed and dashed into the shower room.
The shower was hot and the sheer force of the water jets prickled her skin. She luxuriated in the sharply scented shower gel, enjoying the tingly feeling it left on her skin.
In her world of make believe she was Caitlyn Morgenstern, notably successful Anchor Girl for Channel 10 News.
Rinsing the soft iridescent bubbles off her body she was totally oblivious to the sharp blue eyes that surveyed her silhouette, and even more shocked to hear the deep gravelly voice say “Please welcome the newest Toxic Star, Jace Strickland, to the field ...... play ball!”
One new message. Ugh, Kellie should know better than to disturb her beauty sleep on Sunday morning.
Eyes still not quite focussing, Caitlyn squinted as she read the message.
‘OMG, you’re never gonna believe who the Toxic Stars just signed’, it read.
Caitlyn groaned. Kellie, God help her, had one dream. They were both gonna marry famous baseball players and live in the style they were so not accustomed to!
Her fingers flew over the keyboard in answer.
‘Not interested’.
Her phone chimed again.
‘I know you don’t mean that girl.’
Caitlyn sighed a long slow sigh as her fingers flew over the keyboard again.
‘Okay, so tell me.’
The answer came flying straight back.
‘Wow, I mean only the best pitcher in the game. THE. JACE. STRICKLAND!’
Caitlyn sighed. Like Jace Strickland would ever be interested in a girl like her or even Kellie for that matter, despite her china doll face.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard in answer again.
‘Don’t care. Now I’m going back to sleep. Talk later.’
Later never materialised, but Jace Strickland had, well at least in her dreams. She’d seen photos of him in magazines, so dreaming about that wonderfully carved chest, long strong arms, perfectly sculpted face and those piercing baby blues was no trouble at all.
The piercing trill of her IPhone yanked Caitlyn from what was shaping up to be the dream of her life.
Kellie!
She didn’t get a chance to say a single word. Her best friend did all the talking.
“Girl, where are you? If you don’t get down here in double quick time Kellerman swears this hotel’s gonna be short one maid.”
“CRR...AP”! In disgust, Caitlyn wiped the drool away running steadily down the side of her face. “Kellie, why didn’t you call me earlier? It’s gone ten already.”
“Ahh, Duh. That’s what I’ve been tryin to tell ya girlfriend.”
Caitlyn was dashing around her room, grabbing her housemaid’s uniform, at the same time talking frantically to her best friend.
“Listen; keep Kellerman busy until I get there, pleeeese!”
“Hey girl there is only so much even a friend can do”, Kellie hissed back.
“Yeah well if you don’t, I know one girl who is not gonna be sitting with you in the Legends Suite this coming season”, Caitlyn replied frantically.
“Ha, thought you no longer gave a care”, Kellie sniped back.
“A girl can change her mind! Just deal with Kellerman. I’m on my way”, Caitlyn squeaked, slamming her front door behind her.
“Have you even washed girl?”
“Don’t make me tell you lies Kellie”, and with that Caitlyn hung up.
Jace shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had one pet hate in life and he was doing it right now. Flying!
The only thing that equalled his hate of flying had materialised in the last 48 hours. Two words, Toxic Stars. More like Toxic Vomit, he thought, if their previous record was anything to go by.
Hal Gorman, the team coach, sidled up beside Jace. The team had been excited when they’d heard Jace Strickland had signed up to play with them for the next year. The excitement, evidently, was turning out to be one-sided, from what he could see.
With a long, slow sigh he addressed the newest addition to the team.
“Enjoying the flight?” – he asked tentatively.
“I hate flying”, Jace replied, face poker straight.
Wonderful, Hal thought.
“Well, we’ll be landing in around ten minutes, so I guess you can start to breathe easy”, the older man replied.
“Hate landing”, Jace shot back.
Hal sighed. “Look Jace I know the Stars aren’t exactly the league you’re used to playing in, but hey given them a chance. Let’s face it, you’ve been out of the game for a while, you need to take it slowly.”
Jace gave him a withering look. If Toxic Vomit were anything to go by, he’d barely be out of breath!
The older man turned to go back to his seat.
Caitlyn shot through the fire escape at the back of the hotel. One of these days she was going to lose this two bit job and then her hopes of becoming a reporter for Channel 10 would be well and truly scuppered.
Kellie was skulking around the corridor waiting for her friend.
“I swear girl, one of these days”. The sentence never got finished. Kellerman rounded the corner and the two girls shot for cover.
Spilling out of the lift on the top floor, Caitlyn turned to her friend.
“Ten minutes, just buy me another ten minutes.”
Kellie huffed and puffed but Caitlyn knew she could count on her.
“Fine. Go do whatever it is you have to in Room 410 and then make sure you leave it as you find it. Kellerman’s already inspected it”, Kellie replied sternly.
Caitlyn frowned. But, there was no time to ask questions. She dashed down the hallway and disappeared into Room 410.
Room 410 was the equivalent to any other hotel’s Presidential Suite. Caitlyn smiled. She was born to lounge in rooms like this!
Tweaking a strawberry of the large fruit platter, she threw her bag on the bed and dashed into the shower room.
The shower was hot and the sheer force of the water jets prickled her skin. She luxuriated in the sharply scented shower gel, enjoying the tingly feeling it left on her skin.
In her world of make believe she was Caitlyn Morgenstern, notably successful Anchor Girl for Channel 10 News.
Rinsing the soft iridescent bubbles off her body she was totally oblivious to the sharp blue eyes that surveyed her silhouette, and even more shocked to hear the deep gravelly voice say “Please welcome the newest Toxic Star, Jace Strickland, to the field ...... play ball!”
Monday 12 April 2010
Romance on the Dark Side
I must confess I've spent an awful lot of time since November of last year reading a different kind of romance. Now for me there was only one kind of romance ..... modern, modern heat, blaze ..... mmmm.. well maybe more than one! So what happens when you add romance to the darker side of life - well it just all becomes even more alluring! I guess what I'm saying is that I may have to stay on this side for a little while longer - Amazon have sent me lots of 'dark' books to read! They did - honestly - they really, really did!
M
M
Friday 2 April 2010
Writers Challenge ......
It's always nice to win the Writers' Challenge, but I hate judging it! Tonight there are just too many good stories in there, but I must choose a winner! So - I'm off to read them all again for the umpteenth time!
M
M
Friday 26 March 2010
Reading.......
I've been reading 'We Need to Talk about Kevin'. Kevin murders some of his school friends and the book is written as a series of letters sent by his mother to her estranged husband after the event. It catalogues their life together before and during Kevin. Now Kevin is one seriously disturbed child. The book explores the child but also the parents and I'm telling you that I see a little of myself in there .... but then anyone who takes the times to read this book could probably say the same. I've resisted the urge to peak at the end .... but I'm told that no-one that's ever read it has seen the end coming! I guess we shall see ..... I'll keep you posted!
Tuesday 23 March 2010
Sharing a Line .....
Just thought I'd share this here. Favourite line of the day -
Me, I’m laughing my fur off – I guess if being a werewolf has to have a good side to it, then it’d have to be watching Seamus phase! As dad always said, stupid git’s never gonna get it right!
M.
Me, I’m laughing my fur off – I guess if being a werewolf has to have a good side to it, then it’d have to be watching Seamus phase! As dad always said, stupid git’s never gonna get it right!
M.
Productive Day!
When all else fails at the day job and systems let you down, it's good to have a netbook handy!!!
So anyway, everything I do during the day is dependent on being able to get into my systems at work ... nothing and I mean nothing was working.
Seemed to me that I had some time on my hands. So in between taking calls and trying every now and then to get the work systems to do the job, I logged on to my netbook and worked up a couple of thousand words!
Every little helps right? Just making use of time which would otherwise have been lost to talking to everyone else and wasting time like they were! Seems to me it's not that different to lifting a newspaper and wiling away time.
M
So anyway, everything I do during the day is dependent on being able to get into my systems at work ... nothing and I mean nothing was working.
Seemed to me that I had some time on my hands. So in between taking calls and trying every now and then to get the work systems to do the job, I logged on to my netbook and worked up a couple of thousand words!
Every little helps right? Just making use of time which would otherwise have been lost to talking to everyone else and wasting time like they were! Seems to me it's not that different to lifting a newspaper and wiling away time.
M
Monday 22 March 2010
After Dark .... winning entry @ Writers Challenge
Sleep evades me. For three whole weeks this has been my dilemma.
I’m twenty-eight years old and he has always been here. To clarify – ‘he’ is the man of my dreams, and yes, he only exists in my dreams.
For the most part this statement is true. Only once in my life was there an exception to this rule, and that was the first time I had come into contact with him.
I shudder as the memory of my first meeting floods back. Again, to clarify, it’s not that meeting him repulsed me, quite the opposite in fact. I was eight years old, and my most vivid memory of that night was the pain that wrecked my body. It was a burning, searing type of pain which caused me to convulse.
“Keep still”, my mother had whispered. “The nice doctor will make the pain go away, I promise” – and, he had. I’ve no recollection as to how he made it happen. I only know that when I awoke in my hospital bed, it was so.
The only evidence of my illness is a crescent moon shaped scar on my right arm. I’ve often examined the scar, wondering tirelessly how it came to be there in the first place, but the truth evades me.
As I got older, I had questioned my mother, but she would not be drawn. Then, on her deathbed while she hallucinated, she whispered to me – “The scar was the kiss of life. It’s the reason you never get sick, the reason Elizabeth Rose, you shall never die. I couldn’t let you die.” Then she was gone.
So here I lie at 4.30 in the morning, tangled, twisted and torn, suffering from sleep deprivation, and still there are no answers. The man of my dreams has visited me for 20 years, and all of a sudden, with no explanation, he’s gone.
I call him the man of my dreams because I don’t know his name and he has never once offered it up. One thing I am certain of though, he is the doctor who made the pain go away. I’m drawn to him pretty much like a moth to a flame. I am totally and irrevocably in love with him. He is the centre of my universe, the reason I live and breathe and without him I am nothing.
The man of my dreams has shaped my life. He is the reason I became a pain doctor. That one life-changing experience at the tender age of eight is the reason I dedicated my life to making the pain go away for others. Unlike my heroic doctor, whilst I have the ability to make immediate pain go away, my treatment doesn’t last. My patients return for pain relief on a daily basis, for them there has never been life-long release from their suffering. This is why the man of my dreams, my doctor, is unique. When he took the pain away, it stayed away for life.
I’ve often wondered how I would react if one day he came back to see me. In my dreams he is just not my doctor, he is the man who loves and adores me as much as I do him. The man of my dreams has spent the last 20 years watching over me – protecting me from harm.
Never once have I questioned his presence. I’ve been content in my own private little world – happy, to be left alone, with the man of my dreams. Happy, that was, until three weeks ago, when he disappeared from my life. Three long, arduous weeks, during which I have not slept or even eaten and during which I have been able to come up with no logical explanation for his absence.
I smile now. There is nothing logical about a man who only visits you after dark and then not even in the flesh! I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but nothing.
Sitting up in bed, I shout into the darkness of my room. “Where are you? Why have you left me? Have I done something wrong?”
No-one answers.
I stare at the clock – 5.00 am. Giving up all thoughts of sleep, I toss the covers aside and wander downstairs to the kitchen. Sleep is needed, and so drastic measures are called for. For me, drastic measures come in the form of hot chocolate and Nytol.
Back upstairs in my bedroom, I pull the covers right up over my ears and wait for the herbal remedy to send me off to slumber-land ....... eventually, it works.
As sleep claims me, I search in the deep recesses of my mind for the man of my dreams, but he’s no-where to be found.
Morning dawns all too soon. The sound of my alarm pierces the silence of my room. I pull the covers over my head wishing it would go away.
It takes all of my willpower to drag myself out of bed. I stand in the bathroom staring at my reflection. God I look like something dragged from beyond the grave. Is it natural to look as pale as I do? My skin is almost transparent and my eyes are sunk deep in my head. A shed load of make-up will be required if I’m not to scare my patients.
Coffee ...... loads of caffeine, that’s what’s needed.
I glance out of the bedroom window. It’s winter in Ireland – typical wet, windy, miserable weather – a trouser suit is required for sure. Anyway, I’m in theatre most of the day, so I’ll be changing into greens, hardly matters what I wear.
I drink enough coffee to sink a battleship and I’m good to go. My dilemma is put to one side as my working day takes over my mind.
Cork General Hospital looms up ahead. I’m on auto pilot now. My car negotiates its way through the car park and soon I’m breezing through the doors of the hospital and into my other world.
I’m twenty-eight years old and he has always been here. To clarify – ‘he’ is the man of my dreams, and yes, he only exists in my dreams.
For the most part this statement is true. Only once in my life was there an exception to this rule, and that was the first time I had come into contact with him.
I shudder as the memory of my first meeting floods back. Again, to clarify, it’s not that meeting him repulsed me, quite the opposite in fact. I was eight years old, and my most vivid memory of that night was the pain that wrecked my body. It was a burning, searing type of pain which caused me to convulse.
“Keep still”, my mother had whispered. “The nice doctor will make the pain go away, I promise” – and, he had. I’ve no recollection as to how he made it happen. I only know that when I awoke in my hospital bed, it was so.
The only evidence of my illness is a crescent moon shaped scar on my right arm. I’ve often examined the scar, wondering tirelessly how it came to be there in the first place, but the truth evades me.
As I got older, I had questioned my mother, but she would not be drawn. Then, on her deathbed while she hallucinated, she whispered to me – “The scar was the kiss of life. It’s the reason you never get sick, the reason Elizabeth Rose, you shall never die. I couldn’t let you die.” Then she was gone.
So here I lie at 4.30 in the morning, tangled, twisted and torn, suffering from sleep deprivation, and still there are no answers. The man of my dreams has visited me for 20 years, and all of a sudden, with no explanation, he’s gone.
I call him the man of my dreams because I don’t know his name and he has never once offered it up. One thing I am certain of though, he is the doctor who made the pain go away. I’m drawn to him pretty much like a moth to a flame. I am totally and irrevocably in love with him. He is the centre of my universe, the reason I live and breathe and without him I am nothing.
The man of my dreams has shaped my life. He is the reason I became a pain doctor. That one life-changing experience at the tender age of eight is the reason I dedicated my life to making the pain go away for others. Unlike my heroic doctor, whilst I have the ability to make immediate pain go away, my treatment doesn’t last. My patients return for pain relief on a daily basis, for them there has never been life-long release from their suffering. This is why the man of my dreams, my doctor, is unique. When he took the pain away, it stayed away for life.
I’ve often wondered how I would react if one day he came back to see me. In my dreams he is just not my doctor, he is the man who loves and adores me as much as I do him. The man of my dreams has spent the last 20 years watching over me – protecting me from harm.
Never once have I questioned his presence. I’ve been content in my own private little world – happy, to be left alone, with the man of my dreams. Happy, that was, until three weeks ago, when he disappeared from my life. Three long, arduous weeks, during which I have not slept or even eaten and during which I have been able to come up with no logical explanation for his absence.
I smile now. There is nothing logical about a man who only visits you after dark and then not even in the flesh! I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but nothing.
Sitting up in bed, I shout into the darkness of my room. “Where are you? Why have you left me? Have I done something wrong?”
No-one answers.
I stare at the clock – 5.00 am. Giving up all thoughts of sleep, I toss the covers aside and wander downstairs to the kitchen. Sleep is needed, and so drastic measures are called for. For me, drastic measures come in the form of hot chocolate and Nytol.
Back upstairs in my bedroom, I pull the covers right up over my ears and wait for the herbal remedy to send me off to slumber-land ....... eventually, it works.
As sleep claims me, I search in the deep recesses of my mind for the man of my dreams, but he’s no-where to be found.
Morning dawns all too soon. The sound of my alarm pierces the silence of my room. I pull the covers over my head wishing it would go away.
It takes all of my willpower to drag myself out of bed. I stand in the bathroom staring at my reflection. God I look like something dragged from beyond the grave. Is it natural to look as pale as I do? My skin is almost transparent and my eyes are sunk deep in my head. A shed load of make-up will be required if I’m not to scare my patients.
Coffee ...... loads of caffeine, that’s what’s needed.
I glance out of the bedroom window. It’s winter in Ireland – typical wet, windy, miserable weather – a trouser suit is required for sure. Anyway, I’m in theatre most of the day, so I’ll be changing into greens, hardly matters what I wear.
I drink enough coffee to sink a battleship and I’m good to go. My dilemma is put to one side as my working day takes over my mind.
Cork General Hospital looms up ahead. I’m on auto pilot now. My car negotiates its way through the car park and soon I’m breezing through the doors of the hospital and into my other world.
Finding the 'write' voice!
I've been puttering for a little over a year, mostly modern romance, because up until 6 months ago it was really all I ever read.
Anyway, New Year, new books, different genre, loads of varied authors. Now I'm finding that my 'voice' has changed! Could it be that the more you read, the more you are likely to find where your true talent really lies, or, am I just being influenced by what I'm currently reading?
I'm going to post something in my next blog which won a recent writer's challenge - if you happen to come by and read it, leave a comment a let me know what you think.
M
Anyway, New Year, new books, different genre, loads of varied authors. Now I'm finding that my 'voice' has changed! Could it be that the more you read, the more you are likely to find where your true talent really lies, or, am I just being influenced by what I'm currently reading?
I'm going to post something in my next blog which won a recent writer's challenge - if you happen to come by and read it, leave a comment a let me know what you think.
M
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)