Wow, I've started writing again this week after a creative block that has lasted almost nine months. And today I ran two workshops for Worcester Literature Festival.
In the morning I did a couple of hours on "How to Get into Print" and this afternoon I did another two hours on "How to Promote Yourself as an Author" with my PR friend, Sylvia Herbert. I really enjoyed them and the feedback from both events was great.
Next is Tuesday when I'm MC and contributor to Worcester Sauce - tantalising and exotic pieces written and read by members of Worcester Writers' Circle. More details about that at http://www.worcslitfest.com/worcester-sauce/
Showing posts with label Writers Circle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writers Circle. Show all posts
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Saturday, 17 July 2010
Remember What Dad Said
This is the first 200 words of a piece I’m writing for the meeting of the Worcester Writers’ Circle next week.
‘You did what!’
‘I shot the cat.’
Edward took a deep breath to calm himself and said, ‘You better sit down and tell me about it.’
The cheap lino protested loudly as Darren pulled the metal chair away from the desk. The office was messy and he sat down awkwardly, his shoulders hunched and head bowed. He was completely out of place in the clean and crisp uniform that his mother religiously starched on Sundays.
‘Well?’
‘I just lost it boss.’
Darren shuffled in his seat and took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. ‘I’ve put down what happened. Do you want me to read it?’
‘No, give it here.’ Edward replied sharply. And with his arm stretched across the desk he snatched the paper and neatly unfolded it onto his desk. He flattened it with his palms and started to read.
‘Mum said I should put it all down.’
Edward looked up slowly and held his arm out like a stop sign. Darren took the hint and stared out of the window.
Remember What Dad Said
‘You did what!’
‘I shot the cat.’
Edward took a deep breath to calm himself and said, ‘You better sit down and tell me about it.’
The cheap lino protested loudly as Darren pulled the metal chair away from the desk. The office was messy and he sat down awkwardly, his shoulders hunched and head bowed. He was completely out of place in the clean and crisp uniform that his mother religiously starched on Sundays.
‘Well?’
‘I just lost it boss.’
Darren shuffled in his seat and took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. ‘I’ve put down what happened. Do you want me to read it?’
‘No, give it here.’ Edward replied sharply. And with his arm stretched across the desk he snatched the paper and neatly unfolded it onto his desk. He flattened it with his palms and started to read.
‘Mum said I should put it all down.’
Edward looked up slowly and held his arm out like a stop sign. Darren took the hint and stared out of the window.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Finished my Collection of Short Stories
Sent my collection of fast fiction to my editor on Friday. Twenty four stories with each on a different theme from Worcester Writers' Circle - 25,000 words in all. I should have it back by the end of this week so I can get it printed before Christmas and put it on Amazon in the New Year.
Had lots of fun writing them and I think the result was worth all the effort.
Had lots of fun writing them and I think the result was worth all the effort.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Help me end a piece of fast fiction.
I'm writing a piece of fast fiction for Worcester Writers' Circle on the theme of a “domestic dilemma”. My inspiration has come from a 140 character story posted on Twitter by @veryshortstory. I have used it as the first sentence. As you can see from the title, I have already come up with a possible ending. But I wondered if you might have some ideas which you could leave as a comment.
Brian held her pretty hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. Enjoying the moment, then putting it with the rest, in the freezer.
He gently closed the lid and heard the seal sigh when he turned the key to lock it. Even though the garage was attached to the house he didn't want to take a chance with nosy kids or a sneak thief. He went though the connecting door to the kitchen and sat down at the table to get his breath back.
It wasn't as though she was heavy, he just didn't realise how awkward a dead body could be. But it was done. He looked at the kettle for a moment, then got up and took a bottle of wine from the cupboard in the corner. He frowned when he stared at the label and selected another instead. On the way to the living room he grabbed the notepad and pencil that Emily always kept by the phone in the hall.
He carefully placed the bottle and the notepad on the coffee table and went to the sideboard to get the corkscrew and a red wine glass. Before he sat down on the sofa he withdrew the cork and sniffed it out of habit. He then poured a large glass and admired it's deep colour, like damson jam. Now he sat down to think.
He had two simple problems, really just many other domestic dilemmas. The first was what to do with all the food that he'd had to remove so Emily would fit. And the second problem was how to dispose of the freezer. He couldn't very well ring up the council, nor could he take it down to the tip in his estate car. He took another slug of his wine and wrote a few things on the pad. Only one looked like it might work, but it would take a lot of courage. He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. He'd just have to hope that the money came through soon.
The Dinner Party
Brian held her pretty hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. Enjoying the moment, then putting it with the rest, in the freezer.
He gently closed the lid and heard the seal sigh when he turned the key to lock it. Even though the garage was attached to the house he didn't want to take a chance with nosy kids or a sneak thief. He went though the connecting door to the kitchen and sat down at the table to get his breath back.
It wasn't as though she was heavy, he just didn't realise how awkward a dead body could be. But it was done. He looked at the kettle for a moment, then got up and took a bottle of wine from the cupboard in the corner. He frowned when he stared at the label and selected another instead. On the way to the living room he grabbed the notepad and pencil that Emily always kept by the phone in the hall.
He carefully placed the bottle and the notepad on the coffee table and went to the sideboard to get the corkscrew and a red wine glass. Before he sat down on the sofa he withdrew the cork and sniffed it out of habit. He then poured a large glass and admired it's deep colour, like damson jam. Now he sat down to think.
He had two simple problems, really just many other domestic dilemmas. The first was what to do with all the food that he'd had to remove so Emily would fit. And the second problem was how to dispose of the freezer. He couldn't very well ring up the council, nor could he take it down to the tip in his estate car. He took another slug of his wine and wrote a few things on the pad. Only one looked like it might work, but it would take a lot of courage. He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. He'd just have to hope that the money came through soon.
Friday, 13 March 2009
Writers' Circle
In the late summer of 2008 I decided to develop my skills as a fictional writer and thought about joining a Writers’ Circle. I Googled for one and found it in Worcester Writers' Circle, which is in Worcester almost where I live.
On the 7th October I went along to my first meeting. It was a small group with ages from 22 to 80, I enjoyed it so I decided to join.
Every December the steering group would set a theme for each meeting and suggest that we write a small piece, but it was not compulsory. Although there was no pressure I decided to write a fictional story for each meeting. As it turned out I was the only one who regularly did that. Occasionally one or two other members also wrote something, usually non-fiction. Others read from the book or a article that they were working on.
I suppose this is the story of my journey.
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