Challenge write a story using the title 'Fire of the Gods' and you have up to 1000 words.
Fire of the Gods
“Uisce beatha” he said raising his glass and saluting her. The glass glinted in the dull lights of the bar. The honey coloured liquid innocent inside the tumbler.
“The water of life” his speech was a little slurred, then he swallowed the entire contents of the glass in one smooth practised move. He tipped his empty towards the bartender who replaced it immediately. His eyes were bloodshot, bleary and unfocused, red tendrils shot through the whites and you just knew he already had too much to drink that year.
Deirdre made circles on the dark wood table with the condensation from her own glass of Ballygowan...Still. Pierce burped, a fog of food and alcohol flavoured air enveloped Deirdre. She must have pulled a face because he suddenly seemed to notice her. “Don’t act so posh now Deirdre. I remember you coming over to our house and you hardly had the clothes on your back” he burped again. “Just cause your old man’s got a few bob. . . don’t think we don’t remember where you came from”. Fat chance of that in a town this size Deirdre thought.
She was seriously regretting promising Fiona to keep an eye on her brother while she mingled with the funeral crowd. Pierce wasn’t that hard on the eyes but he wasn’t much company. To be honest he was a pain but I guess burying your mother effected different people in different ways. “Do you remember when you were thirteen and I let you see me naked” he was smirking knowing at her. Good God he was attempting a wink his whole face crumpled in the effort. He leaned in to her and whispered “you loved it”.
“You are so disgusting. I had to stop calling over to Fiona because of you. And when my Mum tried to talk to your freshly departed old Mam about it she tore her apart. You caused so much trouble for both families.” Deirdre was so angry as she remembered her teenage self being so humiliated by this man. She could feel her face burn in remembered shame. If only she could hit his stupid face off the timber of the table again and again and again. Pity about the law saying you couldn’t do that sort of thing any more.
“But you loved it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here with me all night”
Deirdre looked him up and down then taking in the cheap suit that was at least ten years old. The food stains, the wet patch on his crotch where he’d had a mishap in the toilet and she thought I am so much better than this.
“Fire of the Gods” She said it slow and deliberate. He looked up at her confusion knitting his brow. “It’s what my father always called whiskey”
“Huh” was all he could manage.
“Shall I tell you why?” she asked but she didn’t wait for an answer “because it could burn a hole in your belly but it would definitely sting the hell out of your eyes” and she took his glass and threw it in his face. “Goodbye Asshole” and she disappeared through the heaving crowd of black.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Biutiful
Last night Hubster and I went to see 'Biutiful' starring Javier Bardem.
It is all the things that the critics have written about it.
Well acted, wellwritten, well directed, mercurial, visual and more.
But the story of Biutiful is so so sad.
Uxbal is surrounded by people but he is alone.
I won't say any more because you may get a chance to see it.
It is 2 hours long so be warned.
But it is one of those movies that stay with you.
This morning driving to work I was so grateful to be alive and healthy.
This movie gave me a gift.
The gift to see my life for what it is.
Blessed.
Biutiful
Javier Bardem gives an overpowering and now Oscar-nominated performance as the anguished street hustler Uxbal, who finds himself bowed down by
troubles. This is a story of a man in free fall. On the road to redemption,
darkness lights his way. Connected with the afterlife, Uxbal is a tragic
hero and father of two who's sensing the danger of death. He struggles with
a tainted reality and a fate that works against him in order to forgive,
for love, and forever. The film stars Academy Award winning Javier Bardem
(No Country for Old Men), who recently won the best actor award for this
role at the Cannes Film Festival. This is a tour de force that takes us on
a unique and compelling journey down the rocky road of human existence.
It is all the things that the critics have written about it.
Well acted, wellwritten, well directed, mercurial, visual and more.
But the story of Biutiful is so so sad.
Uxbal is surrounded by people but he is alone.
I won't say any more because you may get a chance to see it.
It is 2 hours long so be warned.
But it is one of those movies that stay with you.
This morning driving to work I was so grateful to be alive and healthy.
This movie gave me a gift.
The gift to see my life for what it is.
Blessed.
Biutiful
Javier Bardem gives an overpowering and now Oscar-nominated performance as the anguished street hustler Uxbal, who finds himself bowed down by
troubles. This is a story of a man in free fall. On the road to redemption,
darkness lights his way. Connected with the afterlife, Uxbal is a tragic
hero and father of two who's sensing the danger of death. He struggles with
a tainted reality and a fate that works against him in order to forgive,
for love, and forever. The film stars Academy Award winning Javier Bardem
(No Country for Old Men), who recently won the best actor award for this
role at the Cannes Film Festival. This is a tour de force that takes us on
a unique and compelling journey down the rocky road of human existence.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Justice for all.
Chuck Wendig Flash Fiction Challenge
write a story of 1000 words or less using 10 of the 20 words below.
Beast, brooch, cape, dinosaur, dove, fever, finger, flea, gate, insult,
justice, mattress, moth, paradise, research, scream, seed, sparrow,
tornado, university
'He's dead' Sally slammed the phone back in its cradle.
'Who's dead?' her mother asked.
'That Goddam John Murphy, remember him, he tormented every day for a
month after my tenth birthday. Yes. There is justice after all.'
Sally opened the window and screamed 'justice for all' scattering
some small birds from the yard.
'He's very young to die. Are you sure you want to be celebrating?
'I didn't kill him. I haven't thought him for years so you can't
come over all guilty and say I wished him ill. Something bit his
finger and he got some kind of fever and he died. I'm not surprised
really he's been living rough for years. I always thought he'd be
stabbed'. Sally was rummaging about in her handbag. She pulled out
a large brooch.
'I never knew that' Sally's mother sat down and folded her hands in
her lap. Sally came to sit beside her. 'He wasn't a nice person
Mum, he would wait at the school gate and gather a gang of boys and
they would chant here comes Sally the Sparrow, she eats fleas and
marrow. It was insulting and hurtful and I hated him.'
Her mother didn't say anything just nodded so Sally continued 'I
heard he was sleeping on a mattress somewhere near the research building
at the university. They think he was bitten by a lab rat that
escaped. His body is going to be cremated because they don't know
what he died of. It's going to cause a big rumpus. Professor
Dinosaur is going to be in one heap of trouble after this'
'Isn't he the guy who gave you such poor grades last term?'
'Yep'
'Maybe you're right Sally, maybe there is justice for all, after
all.'
write a story of 1000 words or less using 10 of the 20 words below.
Beast, brooch, cape, dinosaur, dove, fever, finger, flea, gate, insult,
justice, mattress, moth, paradise, research, scream, seed, sparrow,
tornado, university
'He's dead' Sally slammed the phone back in its cradle.
'Who's dead?' her mother asked.
'That Goddam John Murphy, remember him, he tormented every day for a
month after my tenth birthday. Yes. There is justice after all.'
Sally opened the window and screamed 'justice for all' scattering
some small birds from the yard.
'He's very young to die. Are you sure you want to be celebrating?
'I didn't kill him. I haven't thought him for years so you can't
come over all guilty and say I wished him ill. Something bit his
finger and he got some kind of fever and he died. I'm not surprised
really he's been living rough for years. I always thought he'd be
stabbed'. Sally was rummaging about in her handbag. She pulled out
a large brooch.
'I never knew that' Sally's mother sat down and folded her hands in
her lap. Sally came to sit beside her. 'He wasn't a nice person
Mum, he would wait at the school gate and gather a gang of boys and
they would chant here comes Sally the Sparrow, she eats fleas and
marrow. It was insulting and hurtful and I hated him.'
Her mother didn't say anything just nodded so Sally continued 'I
heard he was sleeping on a mattress somewhere near the research building
at the university. They think he was bitten by a lab rat that
escaped. His body is going to be cremated because they don't know
what he died of. It's going to cause a big rumpus. Professor
Dinosaur is going to be in one heap of trouble after this'
'Isn't he the guy who gave you such poor grades last term?'
'Yep'
'Maybe you're right Sally, maybe there is justice for all, after
all.'
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Eulogy to Frank Carson - it's the way I tell um
The Grim Reaper came for me last night, and I beat him off with a
vacuum cleaner. Talk about Dyson with death.
A mate of mine recently admitted to being addicted to brake fluid.
When I quizzed him on it he reckoned he could stop any time....
I went to the cemetery yesterday to lay some flowers on a grave. As I
was standing there I noticed 4 grave diggers walking about with a
coffin, 3 hours later and they're still walking about with it. I
thought to myself, they've lost the plot!!
My daughter asked me for a pet spider for her birthday, so I went to
our local pet shop and they were £70!!! Blow this, I thought, I can
get one cheaper off the web.
I was at an ATM yesterday when a little old lady asked if I could
check her balance, so I pushed her over.
I start a new job in Seoul next week. I thought it was a good Korea
move.
I was driving this morning when I saw an AA van parked up. The driver
was sobbing uncontrollably and looked very miserable. I thought to
myself that guy's heading for a breakdown.
Statistically, 6 out of 7 dwarves are not Happy.
My neighbour knocked on my door at 2:30am this morning, can you
believe that, 2:30am?! Luckily for him I was still up playing my
Bagpipes.
Paddy says "Mick, I'm thinking of buying a Labrador." Sod that" says
Mick "have you seen how many of their owners go blind?"
I saw a poor old lady fall over today on the ice!! At least I presume
she was poor - she only had £1.20 in her purse.
I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at
the foot of my bed. At first I was afraid.......then I was petrified.
A wife says to her husband you're always pushing me around and
talking behind my back. He says what do you expect? You're in a
wheelchair.
I was explaining to my wife last night that when you die you get
reincarnated but must come back as a different creature. She said I
would like to come back as a cow. I said you're obviously not
listening.
The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the
worst. So I have been to the charity shop to get all her clothes
back.
The wife was counting all the 1p's and 2p's out on the kitchen table
when she suddenly got very angry and started shouting and crying for
no reason. I thought to myself, "She's going through the change."
When I was in the pub I heard a couple of plonkas saying that they
wouldn't feel safe on an aircraft if they knew the pilot was a woman.
What a pair of sexist pigs. I mean, it's not as if she'd have to
reverse the bloomin thing
Local Police hunting the 'knitting needle nutter', who has stabbed
six people in the village in the last 48 hours, believe the attacker
could be following some kind of pattern.
Bought some 'rocket salad' yesterday but it went off before I could
eat it!
A teddy bear is working on a building site. He goes for a tea break
and when he returns he notices his pick has been stolen. The bear is
angry and reports the theft to the foreman. The foreman grins at the
bear and says "Oh, I forgot to tell you, today's the day the teddy
bears have their picks nicked
Just got back from my mate's funeral. He died after being hit on the
head with a tennis ball. It was a lovely service
vacuum cleaner. Talk about Dyson with death.
A mate of mine recently admitted to being addicted to brake fluid.
When I quizzed him on it he reckoned he could stop any time....
I went to the cemetery yesterday to lay some flowers on a grave. As I
was standing there I noticed 4 grave diggers walking about with a
coffin, 3 hours later and they're still walking about with it. I
thought to myself, they've lost the plot!!
My daughter asked me for a pet spider for her birthday, so I went to
our local pet shop and they were £70!!! Blow this, I thought, I can
get one cheaper off the web.
I was at an ATM yesterday when a little old lady asked if I could
check her balance, so I pushed her over.
I start a new job in Seoul next week. I thought it was a good Korea
move.
I was driving this morning when I saw an AA van parked up. The driver
was sobbing uncontrollably and looked very miserable. I thought to
myself that guy's heading for a breakdown.
Statistically, 6 out of 7 dwarves are not Happy.
My neighbour knocked on my door at 2:30am this morning, can you
believe that, 2:30am?! Luckily for him I was still up playing my
Bagpipes.
Paddy says "Mick, I'm thinking of buying a Labrador." Sod that" says
Mick "have you seen how many of their owners go blind?"
I saw a poor old lady fall over today on the ice!! At least I presume
she was poor - she only had £1.20 in her purse.
I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at
the foot of my bed. At first I was afraid.......then I was petrified.
A wife says to her husband you're always pushing me around and
talking behind my back. He says what do you expect? You're in a
wheelchair.
I was explaining to my wife last night that when you die you get
reincarnated but must come back as a different creature. She said I
would like to come back as a cow. I said you're obviously not
listening.
The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the
worst. So I have been to the charity shop to get all her clothes
back.
The wife was counting all the 1p's and 2p's out on the kitchen table
when she suddenly got very angry and started shouting and crying for
no reason. I thought to myself, "She's going through the change."
When I was in the pub I heard a couple of plonkas saying that they
wouldn't feel safe on an aircraft if they knew the pilot was a woman.
What a pair of sexist pigs. I mean, it's not as if she'd have to
reverse the bloomin thing
Local Police hunting the 'knitting needle nutter', who has stabbed
six people in the village in the last 48 hours, believe the attacker
could be following some kind of pattern.
Bought some 'rocket salad' yesterday but it went off before I could
eat it!
A teddy bear is working on a building site. He goes for a tea break
and when he returns he notices his pick has been stolen. The bear is
angry and reports the theft to the foreman. The foreman grins at the
bear and says "Oh, I forgot to tell you, today's the day the teddy
bears have their picks nicked
Just got back from my mate's funeral. He died after being hit on the
head with a tennis ball. It was a lovely service
Monday, March 5, 2012
Chuck Wendig Flash Fiction - name of a song..
Use the name of a song to inspire a story - 1000 words.
Somebody That I Used to Know.
'When we are married will you sleep in on Saturday mornings with me?'
Declan was smiling but worry creased his brow.
'We don't all have your privileged backgrounds' Karen kissed him 'some of
us have to work. Besides I like what I do. Teaching is in my blood'
'Schools were closed on Saturday s when I was a boy' Declan lunged from the
bed but she quickly sidestepped him. 'Well' she paused to admire his naked
body spread across her bed 'a lot has changed since then. For starters
we've stopped using chalk and a slate. And we have central heating so the
kids don't have to carry a sod of turf to teacher anymore'
'Ha ha very funny'
'I'll see you later' Karen kissed him again. A very firm but distracted
kiss on the lips. Not one of those long lingering kisses that ended
several hours later in bed. She shrugged on her pink patchwork coat, she
called it her child's coat; it was hideous. She only wore it to her
Saturday morning job teaching adults to read and write at the local tech.
Something niggled at the edge of Declan's brain. Surely it was too warm
and sunny this morning to wear a coat like that. As soon as Declan heard
the front door to the apartment slam shut he leapt from the bed and dressed
quickly. He snatched his keys from the night stand and bounded down the
steps two at a time. He reached the lobby just in time to see the no. 2
bus speed by and a glimpse of pink patchwork sitting close to the front.
Bless that coat it really stood out from the crowd. Declan's heart sank.
Karen could easily walk to the local tech but instead she was on a bus
going in the opposite direction.
He flung his full six foot six-seventeen stone- built for Rugby body into
his Lexus and followed the bus determined to find out what Karen was up to.
His mother was right he was a fool following his dick. He realised he knew
nothing about this girl except the few things she had told him.
The bus sped along the bus lane making it difficult to follow, thankfully
traffic was light it was so early and Saturday most people weren't even up.
He checked the crowds getting on and off at each stop but he was certain he
hadn't missed that beacon of pink she was wearing. He followed the bus all
the way into the city centre. Where he was completely gobsmacked to see
Karen get another bus to the Northside.
It was such a beautiful morning, shoppers were beginning to stir. Young
families going to the park, workers in their shirt sleeves 'and she's
wearing a quilt. He thought 'something's wrong here.'
Karen finally got off the bus about halfway up the northside of the city.
She began to walk back towards Declan, panic seized him. Karen never
noticed him sitting there in the traffic watching her. Instead she turned
down a narrow street lined with closed-up shops and boarded up windows.
'This does not look good' he thought. The street led on to a larger one
which was less dilapidated looking. And there was a cafe with large glass
windows watching the street. Declan could see Karen sitting at one of the
windows chatting to one of the waitress's. It looked warm inside the
waitress's face was flushed and Karen's cheeks were pink and still she
didn't take off the quilt.
A tall man in a check shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans and work
boots entered the cafe. He made a beeline for Karen and sat at her table.
Declan clenched and unclenched his fists. But the man got up again, Karen
speaking animatedly her hands dancing through the air, he was smiling at
her and then he went and sat at another table. Strange he didn't stay
Declan mused. He knew her well enough to chat her. The waitress she had
been speaking to earlier arrived with two plates. So she is expecting
someone. Someone she knows well enough to order for.
An old man shuffled up to the door then. He was wearing old runners
without any laces, a brown tweed pants and an over coat tied with string.
He looked like he hadn't shaved for a few days. The old man hesitated
outside the door watching Karen pour tea into a large white mug. She added
some milk before looking up and catching the old man watching her.
Declan was not prepared for her reaction. Her face broke in to a huge
smile. She signalled for the old guy to come and join her. She held up
the second plate and showed him a full Irish breakfast congealing to the
plate. The old guy took a step back and looked uncertain almost as if he
was going to turn away and leave. Then his shoulders slumped and he pushed
the door open. He kept his head down as he shuffled towards Karen and slid
in to the seat opposite.
'Who the hell is that?' Declan's anger made his voice guttural. The old
guy made to get up but Declan roughly pushed him back into his chair.
'Stay' he said to him like he was a dog.
'Declan you shouldn't have followed me. This doesn't concern you. '
Karen's voice was calm.
'You're going to be my wife' he hissed 'of course it concerns me. This is
not Adult literacy unless you hold your lessons in a cafe? So you have been
lying to me for weeks.' Anger flowed off of him in waves.
'This is' Karen paused 'someone that I used to know'
The old man was trembling, he began to rock back and forth and a low
moaning sound came from him. 'Shut up for Chrissake' Declan snapped.
But that only made things worse. Karen reached across the table to him
'Shush Dad. It's going to be OK. I'll take care of you. Shush now you
can't be moaning like that or they'll bar us leave and then where will we
meet.'
Declan looked from Karen to the old empty shell of a man sitting opposite
her and back to Karen. 'you have got to be kidding me. He's your old man?
I thought you said he was dead'
'He was. I mean I thought he was. But then I found him.'
'What's with the coat?'
'I was wearing it the first time I met him, in January, and it gives him a
sense of foundation, makes it easier for him to remember who I am'
'Karen, I can't deal with this. I can't have some nut-job turning up on my
doorstep looking for help. What if we had kids? What if they turned out
like him. I'm sorry Karen but from now on you're just somebody that I used
to know.'
Somebody That I Used to Know.
'When we are married will you sleep in on Saturday mornings with me?'
Declan was smiling but worry creased his brow.
'We don't all have your privileged backgrounds' Karen kissed him 'some of
us have to work. Besides I like what I do. Teaching is in my blood'
'Schools were closed on Saturday s when I was a boy' Declan lunged from the
bed but she quickly sidestepped him. 'Well' she paused to admire his naked
body spread across her bed 'a lot has changed since then. For starters
we've stopped using chalk and a slate. And we have central heating so the
kids don't have to carry a sod of turf to teacher anymore'
'Ha ha very funny'
'I'll see you later' Karen kissed him again. A very firm but distracted
kiss on the lips. Not one of those long lingering kisses that ended
several hours later in bed. She shrugged on her pink patchwork coat, she
called it her child's coat; it was hideous. She only wore it to her
Saturday morning job teaching adults to read and write at the local tech.
Something niggled at the edge of Declan's brain. Surely it was too warm
and sunny this morning to wear a coat like that. As soon as Declan heard
the front door to the apartment slam shut he leapt from the bed and dressed
quickly. He snatched his keys from the night stand and bounded down the
steps two at a time. He reached the lobby just in time to see the no. 2
bus speed by and a glimpse of pink patchwork sitting close to the front.
Bless that coat it really stood out from the crowd. Declan's heart sank.
Karen could easily walk to the local tech but instead she was on a bus
going in the opposite direction.
He flung his full six foot six-seventeen stone- built for Rugby body into
his Lexus and followed the bus determined to find out what Karen was up to.
His mother was right he was a fool following his dick. He realised he knew
nothing about this girl except the few things she had told him.
The bus sped along the bus lane making it difficult to follow, thankfully
traffic was light it was so early and Saturday most people weren't even up.
He checked the crowds getting on and off at each stop but he was certain he
hadn't missed that beacon of pink she was wearing. He followed the bus all
the way into the city centre. Where he was completely gobsmacked to see
Karen get another bus to the Northside.
It was such a beautiful morning, shoppers were beginning to stir. Young
families going to the park, workers in their shirt sleeves 'and she's
wearing a quilt. He thought 'something's wrong here.'
Karen finally got off the bus about halfway up the northside of the city.
She began to walk back towards Declan, panic seized him. Karen never
noticed him sitting there in the traffic watching her. Instead she turned
down a narrow street lined with closed-up shops and boarded up windows.
'This does not look good' he thought. The street led on to a larger one
which was less dilapidated looking. And there was a cafe with large glass
windows watching the street. Declan could see Karen sitting at one of the
windows chatting to one of the waitress's. It looked warm inside the
waitress's face was flushed and Karen's cheeks were pink and still she
didn't take off the quilt.
A tall man in a check shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans and work
boots entered the cafe. He made a beeline for Karen and sat at her table.
Declan clenched and unclenched his fists. But the man got up again, Karen
speaking animatedly her hands dancing through the air, he was smiling at
her and then he went and sat at another table. Strange he didn't stay
Declan mused. He knew her well enough to chat her. The waitress she had
been speaking to earlier arrived with two plates. So she is expecting
someone. Someone she knows well enough to order for.
An old man shuffled up to the door then. He was wearing old runners
without any laces, a brown tweed pants and an over coat tied with string.
He looked like he hadn't shaved for a few days. The old man hesitated
outside the door watching Karen pour tea into a large white mug. She added
some milk before looking up and catching the old man watching her.
Declan was not prepared for her reaction. Her face broke in to a huge
smile. She signalled for the old guy to come and join her. She held up
the second plate and showed him a full Irish breakfast congealing to the
plate. The old guy took a step back and looked uncertain almost as if he
was going to turn away and leave. Then his shoulders slumped and he pushed
the door open. He kept his head down as he shuffled towards Karen and slid
in to the seat opposite.
'Who the hell is that?' Declan's anger made his voice guttural. The old
guy made to get up but Declan roughly pushed him back into his chair.
'Stay' he said to him like he was a dog.
'Declan you shouldn't have followed me. This doesn't concern you. '
Karen's voice was calm.
'You're going to be my wife' he hissed 'of course it concerns me. This is
not Adult literacy unless you hold your lessons in a cafe? So you have been
lying to me for weeks.' Anger flowed off of him in waves.
'This is' Karen paused 'someone that I used to know'
The old man was trembling, he began to rock back and forth and a low
moaning sound came from him. 'Shut up for Chrissake' Declan snapped.
But that only made things worse. Karen reached across the table to him
'Shush Dad. It's going to be OK. I'll take care of you. Shush now you
can't be moaning like that or they'll bar us leave and then where will we
meet.'
Declan looked from Karen to the old empty shell of a man sitting opposite
her and back to Karen. 'you have got to be kidding me. He's your old man?
I thought you said he was dead'
'He was. I mean I thought he was. But then I found him.'
'What's with the coat?'
'I was wearing it the first time I met him, in January, and it gives him a
sense of foundation, makes it easier for him to remember who I am'
'Karen, I can't deal with this. I can't have some nut-job turning up on my
doorstep looking for help. What if we had kids? What if they turned out
like him. I'm sorry Karen but from now on you're just somebody that I used
to know.'
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Author unites DIY writers against 'publishing sharks'
That is the title of an article in The Sunday Times 12th of Feb 2012 by Gabrielle Monaghan.
This article really interested me because it deals with self publishing.
Self publishing seems to have divided writers right down the middle.
Those on the left say self publishing is for people who can't get a publishing deal with a 'real' publishing house' because their writing stinks and those on the right who say I have written something good but I won't go through a mainline publishing house because they will put it in a pink cover and market it as chicklit. Which is exactly what happened to Orna Ross an author with Penguin. She wrote a murder mystery set during the Irish civil war and Penguin marketed as chicklit in a pink cover. This is when this author and former literary agent decided to go the self publishing route. Ross decided it was time to give self published authors a voice and is involved in the Alliance of Independent Authors. (http://allianceindependentauthors.org/joining.html)
It is a non profit organisation which aims to help authors find editors, agents, designers, booksellers and publishers. It is a fantastic fresh idea. Perhaps with an Alliance such as this 'watching' our back we finally can concentrate on the business of writing!
This article really interested me because it deals with self publishing.
Self publishing seems to have divided writers right down the middle.
Those on the left say self publishing is for people who can't get a publishing deal with a 'real' publishing house' because their writing stinks and those on the right who say I have written something good but I won't go through a mainline publishing house because they will put it in a pink cover and market it as chicklit. Which is exactly what happened to Orna Ross an author with Penguin. She wrote a murder mystery set during the Irish civil war and Penguin marketed as chicklit in a pink cover. This is when this author and former literary agent decided to go the self publishing route. Ross decided it was time to give self published authors a voice and is involved in the Alliance of Independent Authors. (http://allianceindependentauthors.org/joining.html)
It is a non profit organisation which aims to help authors find editors, agents, designers, booksellers and publishers. It is a fantastic fresh idea. Perhaps with an Alliance such as this 'watching' our back we finally can concentrate on the business of writing!
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Flash Fiction Challenge – Making a sandwich.
Chuck Wendig interviewed author James R. Tuck and Tuck said something that stuck with me:
“You can write a whole page on a character making a sandwich and if you do it right it will be gripping and compelling.
This weeks challenge:
· You have up to 1000 words to write a story — not a scene, but a story — where a character makes a sandwich. Any kind of character, any kind of sandwich, but the point is to infuse this seemingly mundane act with the magic story-stuff of drama and conflict. Make it the most interesting “person-making-a-sandwich” story you can possibly make it. It needs to grip the testicles. It must twist the nipples. It must not let go.
Love Crazy Love.
Cian looked at Niamh.
Her eyes were enormous.
It was the first thing he had noticed about her. She was watching his every move. Frankly it made him nervous. As if he wasn’t already shaking with excitement and nervous energy. His stomach rumbled and he up stood suddenly needing to eat. “I never offered you any thing to eat” he said his voice unsteady. He swallowed then his Adams apple bobbing up and down on his skinny throat. She didn’t say anything. Niamh just kept watching him with those big beautiful brown eyes. He opened the drawer where his mother kept the knives but he couldn’t see the bread knife. He whistled through his front teeth in frustration. Then he remembered he had given it to his mother right between the ribs. It was still there lodged in her lifeless body in the back room. He could go and get it he supposed but he didn’t feel like cleaning the old woman off of it.
“I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches” he said too brightly “I have some chicken and some mustard and I’m sure there’s a bit of pepper somewhere. Everyone likes chicken don’t they?” He spoke to the air somewhere between them. He busied himself finding things in the fridge and laying them out on the counter for Niamh to see. Little mini offerings on an altar. “Normally” he said cutting thick uneven slices of bread “a girl as good looking as you wouldn’t even see a scrawny piece of meat like me”. He laid the bread out on the plates and began tearing the chicken off the bone “But you had been kind to my mother who just happened to be the old woman in the apartment across the corridor from yours.” Niamh didn’t even blink as he recounted her short history in his life.
“That time you came over for a cup of tea with my mother. God how she had fussed and fretted she even took out the good china tea set. It had been a wedding present over forty years before. Did you know that” he wiped chicken fat off his hands on a tea towel. Niamh nodded slowly.
“Mother didn’t want me around that day” he shook his head like a parent talking about an unruly child. “You’ll scare her off with your oddness. You’re so selfish! You never think that I might like to have a friend. A nice girl to talk to sometimes.“ He mimicked his mother in a singsong voice. “You’re a waste of space you are always in the way.” He hated his mother so much sometimes he could kill her. Oh that’s right he thought he already had he sniggered.
Niamh’s head shot up and she watched him carefully. Cian put a red pepper on the chopping board and began to slice it with a seven inch serrated knife spreading the slices artistically on the sandwich like a fan. “After that you saluted me on the corridor. And you even said hello to me once in the corner shop. Do you remember?” He asked holding the mayonnaise jar and knife in mid air like he’d just had the most brilliant idea.
“I knew you’d come. I knew I could count on you. All I had to do was be believable. Please come quick my mothers collapsed” he was laughing again it was such a high pitched unpleasant sound. He placed the final slices of bread on top of the sandwiches and cut them in to neat triangles with that lethal looking knife he cut the bread with. He took some fresh coriander from the pot on the kitchen window and sprinkled it over the sandwiches.
“Mother would be so proud” he sighed. “She never lets me make the sandwiches when we have guests. These are a masterpiece.”
He carried the plate towards where Niamh was sitting and placed it on the low table in front of her. “I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t finish it all up” he smirked “like a good little girl”.
He crouched down then so he was at eye level with those gorgeous brown eyes. “Now Niamh I’m going to undo your left hand, only your left had so you can eat your lovely sandwich. Unfortunately the tape on your mouth is going to be a bitch. But…” he shrugged in a you know how it is manner. Niamh raised one manicured eyebrow and waited. She flexed her left hand a few times to get the circulation going. The tape coming off her mouth hurt like hell. But she didn’t make a sound. When Cian turned to get his sandwich on the counter she reached behind her and pulled out her police issue revolver. When turned back to face her he had that goddamn knife in his hand. No telling what he would do with it so she shot him right between the eyes.
“You can write a whole page on a character making a sandwich and if you do it right it will be gripping and compelling.
This weeks challenge:
· You have up to 1000 words to write a story — not a scene, but a story — where a character makes a sandwich. Any kind of character, any kind of sandwich, but the point is to infuse this seemingly mundane act with the magic story-stuff of drama and conflict. Make it the most interesting “person-making-a-sandwich” story you can possibly make it. It needs to grip the testicles. It must twist the nipples. It must not let go.
Love Crazy Love.
Cian looked at Niamh.
Her eyes were enormous.
It was the first thing he had noticed about her. She was watching his every move. Frankly it made him nervous. As if he wasn’t already shaking with excitement and nervous energy. His stomach rumbled and he up stood suddenly needing to eat. “I never offered you any thing to eat” he said his voice unsteady. He swallowed then his Adams apple bobbing up and down on his skinny throat. She didn’t say anything. Niamh just kept watching him with those big beautiful brown eyes. He opened the drawer where his mother kept the knives but he couldn’t see the bread knife. He whistled through his front teeth in frustration. Then he remembered he had given it to his mother right between the ribs. It was still there lodged in her lifeless body in the back room. He could go and get it he supposed but he didn’t feel like cleaning the old woman off of it.
“I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches” he said too brightly “I have some chicken and some mustard and I’m sure there’s a bit of pepper somewhere. Everyone likes chicken don’t they?” He spoke to the air somewhere between them. He busied himself finding things in the fridge and laying them out on the counter for Niamh to see. Little mini offerings on an altar. “Normally” he said cutting thick uneven slices of bread “a girl as good looking as you wouldn’t even see a scrawny piece of meat like me”. He laid the bread out on the plates and began tearing the chicken off the bone “But you had been kind to my mother who just happened to be the old woman in the apartment across the corridor from yours.” Niamh didn’t even blink as he recounted her short history in his life.
“That time you came over for a cup of tea with my mother. God how she had fussed and fretted she even took out the good china tea set. It had been a wedding present over forty years before. Did you know that” he wiped chicken fat off his hands on a tea towel. Niamh nodded slowly.
“Mother didn’t want me around that day” he shook his head like a parent talking about an unruly child. “You’ll scare her off with your oddness. You’re so selfish! You never think that I might like to have a friend. A nice girl to talk to sometimes.“ He mimicked his mother in a singsong voice. “You’re a waste of space you are always in the way.” He hated his mother so much sometimes he could kill her. Oh that’s right he thought he already had he sniggered.
Niamh’s head shot up and she watched him carefully. Cian put a red pepper on the chopping board and began to slice it with a seven inch serrated knife spreading the slices artistically on the sandwich like a fan. “After that you saluted me on the corridor. And you even said hello to me once in the corner shop. Do you remember?” He asked holding the mayonnaise jar and knife in mid air like he’d just had the most brilliant idea.
“I knew you’d come. I knew I could count on you. All I had to do was be believable. Please come quick my mothers collapsed” he was laughing again it was such a high pitched unpleasant sound. He placed the final slices of bread on top of the sandwiches and cut them in to neat triangles with that lethal looking knife he cut the bread with. He took some fresh coriander from the pot on the kitchen window and sprinkled it over the sandwiches.
“Mother would be so proud” he sighed. “She never lets me make the sandwiches when we have guests. These are a masterpiece.”
He carried the plate towards where Niamh was sitting and placed it on the low table in front of her. “I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t finish it all up” he smirked “like a good little girl”.
He crouched down then so he was at eye level with those gorgeous brown eyes. “Now Niamh I’m going to undo your left hand, only your left had so you can eat your lovely sandwich. Unfortunately the tape on your mouth is going to be a bitch. But…” he shrugged in a you know how it is manner. Niamh raised one manicured eyebrow and waited. She flexed her left hand a few times to get the circulation going. The tape coming off her mouth hurt like hell. But she didn’t make a sound. When Cian turned to get his sandwich on the counter she reached behind her and pulled out her police issue revolver. When turned back to face her he had that goddamn knife in his hand. No telling what he would do with it so she shot him right between the eyes.
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