Well here we are at Week 240.

It’s been a bit weird this week as Diane went missing. She was in internet limbo. I think this was all to do with her dancing under a pole in The Bermuda Triangle.

Coincidentally, Nik dances on a pole in his bedroom which is a rectangle.

I don’t dance as I don’t know any Eastern Europeans.

You will be happy to know that Diane is back safe and well.

We have another Saturday Special for you today!

I’ll get the review of the stories done and then I’ll explain a little more.

We had four new writers for your entertainment and the ever-present Mr Tom Sheehan.

Our topics this week include; An empty solution, a trip, an annoyance, waiting and a loss.

As always our initial comments follow.

 

First up was Tom. Leila has already spotted that Tom is a constant beginning of the week writer. He has been for a while but he has been working very hard at an unbelievable milestone for us, so we will be seeing him pretty regularly over the next couple of months.

He started us off on Monday with ‘The Metal Box‘.

‘Spats from forgotten arguments are in every family.’

‘What a clever way to get them all back together.’

‘The old boy was a delight to read about.’

 

We would like to welcome all our new writers. We hope that they enjoy their time with us and that they continue to send us their work.

The first of the four was Lisa Gaultier. ‘Sophia’s Shoes‘ was published on Tuesday.

‘What an odd story – I liked the darkness.’

‘This was linked rather well.’

‘The last line made me laugh – I may be a bad person!’

 

On Wednesday, Jenny Boyes was next up with her first story for us.

‘Rattletrap‘ broke the back of the week.

‘I thought on wandering souls of the unwanted and them being released when someone eventually thought of them.’

‘Great pace and that little bit different.’

‘I wondered about multiple personalities and one being at the fore-front.’

 

Our third new writer was Sarah Leavesley.

‘The Dream Dresser‘ was published on Thursday.

‘Her falling back into her own ways was a good way to finish this off.’

‘This was a slightly different take on life-jealousy.’

‘This follows on from all those annoying copy-cat folks.’

 

And we finished off on Friday with our last new writer.

Rebecca Moretti’s ‘The Bee‘ completed the week for us.

‘You wonder if it is his conscience or the souls that he murdered that manifested itself as the bee whether it was imaginary or not.’

‘The images were well done and horrific.’

‘I think there are some clever references to the Israeli / Palestine conflict.’

 

Well that’s them rounded up.

Just the usual reminders guys, please keep the comments feeding the site.

And why not have a go at The Sunday Re-run Feature. Simply pick an older story that you’ve enjoyed, write a spiel or introduction about it, add a few questions in for the writer and we will publish exactly what you have sent us.

 

Onto this weeks Saturday Special.

If you don’t know what these are, they can all be searched on the site under, surprisingly enough, Saturday Specials.

We believe that all these very varied pieces of work have merit and they deserve a separate consideration from the standard weekly stories.

We wanted to showcase this story but had a huge problem due to the genius of the writer.

When we saw the story, frankly we thought, ‘Well this has more cheek than ten arses.’

We considered the writer scoring points with us to get the story published but then we thought:

If we didn’t publish, was that only because we believed the writer was scoring points with us? And if the story had merit, then we had no reason not to publish. So we would only have been being petty due to our inverted insecurity.

And then the absolutely brilliant piece of manoeuvring by Johnny Beaver was, to our thinking, if we published, then it put all the self-indulgence onto us!

A tipped hat to Mr Beaver for giving us this conundrum!

We decided to use his work as an example on reading the fecking guidelines!

We still receive many a submission where the writer has obviously not even glanced at the site never mind taking the time to familiarise themselves with the type of story that we are looking for.

Johnny’s story emphasises that he has read the submission guidelines very closely. So closely in fact that he has made a plot out of them.

As well as the ‘kudos’ we are taking for accepting this, we’re also delighted that we have inspired!!

And whilst I am on the subject of submissions – There is nowhere in our guidelines that we ask for either the writers religion or sexuality but for some reason many folks want to tell us. I’ll be completely honest – We don’t care!!

Our curiosity is two fold:

1. We want to know if you can write?

2. We want to know if you have a great story that resonates with us and the site?

 

Hugh

 

And with those points in mind it’s my absolute pleasure to introduce:

Johnny R. Beaver’s Saturday Special – ‘Kramer Walton – Starving Writer.’

***

Kramer Walton – Starving Writer by Johnny R Beaver

Kramer Walton’s beige sweater itched, or actually, the skin underneath his sweater itched, not literally the sweater itself.  Kramer might have removed the sweater, but his unheated apartment was just too freaking cold. Shivering, frowning, and wishing he could dream up a story like “Game of Hobbits’ Thrones” he tried to type, but his latest story idea, about a talking kangaroo that saved the planet from falling into a dark, deep space well, was going nowhere.  Besides, his concentration was disturbed by the zorg, klart, klorg, zart noises his empty stomach was making. After his last tiny writing paycheck, he could only afford Kudos, a somewhat strange and tasteless energy bar, and he’d eaten the last of those earlier that frigid morning.

Now shivering almost uncontrollably, Kramer stared at the computer screen.  After careful consideration, Kramer decided to name his characters Adam, Diane, Hugh, Nik, and Tobias.  However, he had not decided which name to use for the kangaroo, which three to use for the romantic triangle, and which to use for the evil mad scientist.  He did decide, after much debate with himself and his last living goldfish, Fred, that he did not need two clever kids named Daniel or O’Donnel to help save the world.  The talking kangaroo would suffice.

Perhaps, Kramer thought, at significant moments in the story, the kangaroo could recite deep and significant poetry, or at least some Shakespeare.  But no, Kramer thought some more, that might violate some copyright laws.  Maybe the kangaroo could instead write his own poetry?  Kramer thought some more again.  Yes, he decided, he’d have the kangaroo write poetry about the struggles of living in a little house on a frigid prairie planet somewhere in the Winterdonefelled star system.  And he’d have a wizard on a throne who exiled the kangaroo to the planet Earth, where he’d make friends with a little boy, or maybe a puppy, defeat an evil scientist, and save the whales and the bees and the entire frigging planet.  Yes, Kramer finished thinking, the story was beginning to take form and substance.

Of course, it was about time, Kramer told himself, mostly because he was alone except for the goldfish, and the goldfish wasn’t much of a conversationalist and really had no interest in what Kramer had to say.  “Yes, it’s week forty-two, and I don’t need to panic, but I really need to finish this,” Kramer told the fish, but Fred continued not listening, so Kramer continued staring at the computer.  He checked the word count.  Almost four hundred.  Four hundred words in forty-two weeks.  That’s pathetic, Kramer thought.  Maybe it was time to panic, or at least go back to work begging for work.  Or money. Or food.

Kramer had gotten very, very good at begging for stuff.  He was, unfortunately, very, very, very, stupendously bad about finishing writing projects.  Sometimes, he’d spend days trying to decide on a single word to use.  He had a very difficult time, he knew, choosing appropriate alternatives for “very,” and often, he’d just give up, frustrated, indeed, very frustrated.  But that was the life of a writer, Kramer knew, smiling wistfully.  And whatever else he was or would ever be, Kramer was convinced he was a writer. He just wasn’t convinced about the next plot element for his talking kangaroo saves the planet story.  But he knew that somehow, somewhere, someday, he, Kramer Walton, would finish the story and become a wildly successful world-wide  published author.  Of that, he was supremely sure.

 

Johhny R Beavers