I am reminded
That the pheno
That is NaNoWriMo
Gets under way shortly.
Right across the globe tens of thousands of fifty thousand-word novels, technically novellas — but let’s not quibble about terminology — will be written during the month of November.
For all those (Diane Dickson I mean you!) of a mathematically averse nature, look away now…
Convert those 50K words into Literally Stories short story fiction and that weighs in at the equivalent of at least 30 short stories or one short story per day.
Give or take a Drabble.
For someone who averages 500 words a week this is a tall order indeed therefore I am seeking an extension to the deadline from 30 November to 31 December.
Plan B is to give NaNoWriMo a miss this year and stick to casting my eye over the week’s goings-on here at LS; trying not to malign the accepted or natural order of days of the week according to the classical planets of Hellenistic astrology.
Luna-day saw Tobias Haglund deliver a story that were the world’s greatest writer, George Orwell, to have read the piece (Michael) he would have said ‘By Jove, that was an inspired piece of writing Sir’ or some such expression, and might have singled out the following line or any of a dozen others…
Something about the March… Walking to a naked beat, soles in mud. Souls in mud…
I am borrowing another of Tobbe’s lines when I add, splendour requires determination and once achieved permeates your every action.
Mars-day Tom Sheehan’s MC John Burns wondered over how many ways you could express the notion that a stag had drunk all the water he needed by the end of the day.
“The stag had drunk his fill at eve.” is one.
We were back in Saugus, Massachusetts, for a time, and in between bouts with the US Pacific fleet way back when.
Spanning fifty years John and Andrew, Philanthropists is another classic from the Sheehan oeuvre.
Mercury-day we were pleased to welcome back Brixton based GJ Hart. He adapted a not-too-unfamiliar tale and ‘made it his own’ as they say in talent show parlances.
The show on offer here was a decidedly dodgy affair. So not unlike talent shows then? But Killing Time requires no hype. No slick-talking impresarios to ‘big it up’.
GJ’s writing is proof enough: The jumble of gardens, barely delineated by broken fencing and littered with filth. The piss-heads by the phone box fighting over last night’s fried chicken. All set beneath tower blocks like upended pill trays, their panes patched with cardboard and hung with rags.
Jupiter-day witnessed both Fire and Ice and a LS début.
Take a bow Kevin Bray.
If the acerbic wit of his narrator were any sharper we’d be reaching for a First-Aid kit. Apart from the aforementioned fire and ice there was Hungarian cuisine and a fox terrier and a fairly comprehensive list of the combustion temperatures of most everyday materials including the 9ct gold of a wedding ring (band).
Kevin raised an admiring eyebrow with: I could give up anything permanently if the result is a better life. Dumplings can always be replaced.
I agree wholeheartedly, Kevin, $*% dumplings!
And you know baby
He’s got it
Oh baby he’s got it
Welsh wit is I am pleased to report just as sharp (or should that be blunt?) as the Canadian variety and LS Editor Nik Eveleigh delivered it in spades in his one-to-one speed dating delight.
“You’re not a complete twat.”
“He wasn’t a complete twat. That’s the stuff headstones are made of.”
I might just borrow that, Nik. One day.
Good Night, Good Luck and Good Love is a whole load of good isn’t it?
We thought so, but will you?
Who will get your vote in this week’s Story of the Week competition?
With all the foresight of a psychic soothsaying know-it-all, last week I said of SOTW:
‘Five contenders but only one winner (unless it’s a dead-heat)’
Christopher Dehon (The Other Sister), Daniel Finkel (Commerce and You: A Petrichor Instructional Film) and Frederick K. Foote (Revelations) shared the humongous first prize three ways.
As we say in these parts, a third of nothing is better than nowt.