Believe it or not, throughout my postings I try and add a wee bit of writing content within. It may even be tips for submission / acceptance / rejection but there is normally something there.
For this one, which may seem a bit self-indulgent, I want to explore the things we won’t write. (Or in my case talk about, that is why I’m writing this!)
…Isn’t it weird that a lot of us say ‘write’ instead of ‘type’?
Anyhow, I’m not sure what the point of this is, but here goes.
Me and my dad had a strange relationship. I still can’t work it out!
In my life, there are a few things that I really miss. Playing golf is one. When I was a kid of ten up until I was around thirty five, I played a lot of snooker and golf. Snooker, I loved but wasn’t that good at where-as golf, I always could hold my own. My dad took me into Danny Strickland’s Snooker Hall when I was a kid. I couldn’t play as the rule was, ‘Fifteen or over’.
When I reached thirteen (Whit a rebel!) a few of us tried our luck. We got in and that was our usual Friday night haunt.
We would play from seven to half nine and then hit the chip-shop.
We got older looking and the pub beckoned!!
So we would play from seven to nine-thirty, hit the pub for a pint and then back to the chip shop.
…Long story short, we ended up just in the pub.
I now and again go into the ‘new’ snooker hall and have a hit-about. Strikland’s is now a kid-on Casino, the owner is a prick and he was trying to get it as a lap-dancing venue – I have no problems with that – If the girls are safe, willing to do that and are well paid, who fucking cares!! But our Council has stated that can’t happen – Even though they okayed a Lady-Boys show at another venue – I can’t figure that out!!
So the owner opened this casino type thing. I say ‘type’ as there is a gambling problem due to the council, so no money, only prizes can be won. Oh, seemingly he is in the Guinness Book Of Records for the most Malts in an establishment.
Here’s the thing – I am Ayr born and bred. Due to where I have worked, I know a lot of people, but I don’t know anyone who has been in the casino!!
Sorry folks, on a tangent!!
When I was around ten years old (Fuck – Maybe I should have done this one first!!) my dad took me to some waste ground and he gave me a seven iron to TRY and hit a few balls – I was hooked.
My first full round at Dalmilling Golf Course took me 156 shots. My best round I did in 70!
I fucking miss it – But a twisted spine has fucked me.
The reason this self-indulgent shit has came to me is, the anniversary of my dad’s horrific death (Lung cancer is a fucker guys) was on Wednesday the 26th July.
I found that I couldn’t bring myself to watch any of The British Open as that was one thing we did when I was a kid and talked about and sometimes watched together as adults.
‘…I never said to you and you never said to me but I know we both knew that we wouldn’t say anything.’ (Being Scottish is a cunt!!!)
Is the first year the worst? There is one true saying, you are a long time dead!
Unless you are a Buddhist, as is my understanding. You come back as a pizza, an hour after mid-day, at one with everything.
R.I.P Hugh Cron – My dad.
To get back to more of a writing content, we had two submissions this week which highlighted a rather careless problem.
Let’s be honest those typos are like Ninjas, they can be there but never seen.
Do you know that Ninjas make terrible lovers. Anyone who can get in and out without you noticing are up against it!
Anyhow, if you are sending away a submission, make sure that your first few paragraphs are perfect. When we start to read a story and notice mistakes within the first few lines, it is rather difficult to keep going.
It is a bit insulting and comes across as arrogance as we think that the writer either believes their work to be that good that those mistakes will be overlooked, or even worse, they think that they have written it perfectly the first time.
The best tip I can give is simply this, keep reading until you stop editing / altering / sorting. Once you have stopped doing those, read it once more.
It may not be perfect but it lessens your chances of missing mistakes, especially on those first few lines.
Okay, onto this week’s stories.
It was great to see the first four writers this week all being new to the site.
We hope that they all have fun and continue to send us their work.
As always, our initial comments follow.
Karen Uttien got us started with ‘Vienna’ on Monday.
‘Some excellent touches throughout.’
‘An accomplished piece of story-telling!’
‘It’s great to see Karen on the site’
Andrew Rodgers was next up with ‘Just Desserts.’
‘Harold’s attitude matches mine.’
‘Great character writing.’
‘The tone was brilliant.’
On Wednesday we had Bob Freeman with ‘The Rule Of Unintended Cataquences.’
‘I like Tabby and Calico.’
‘An entertaining story.’
‘There is a lot here to recognise.’
Next up was Sandra Arnold with ‘Sweet Pea And His Tiny Stony Heart.’
‘I really did enjoy this.’
‘Although there are occasions when invisibility is preferred, it is an awful thing to do to a person full-time.’
‘Thought provoking.’
Our only old-hand was the brilliant Alex Sinclair.
‘Barang’ was his eleventh story for us, which completed the week.
‘Alex certainly knows the shadows!’
‘Alex writes this type of story so well.’
‘This writer has some style to his work!’
That’s us all rounded up.
Have a look at the Sunday features that we run and if you want to take part, send us an email.
We really did have excellent comment numbers last week, it was a joy to see!
Another thing I normally do, is type some light-hearted pish at the end of these. I’ve been thinking on that since Sunday!!
…Not sure I’ve got that in me today.
…So for one week only, Shug, ‘The Black Hearted Bastard’ (A Workmate called me that due to facial expressions I made to her when a wee fucker I hated was getting all upset about no-one loving him. No fucking wonder, he was a fud who I wanted to stab through the face.) will get a wee bit sentimental and play one piece of music that meant a lot to my dad.
I remember this well due to a huge fight they had and my mum hadn’t spoken to him for days. (Don’t know what it was about – Probably nothing exciting – Probably him working stupid hours and only seeing us to say ‘Goodnight’) He bought her a Porcelain Crinoline (Sp??) Lady which played this tune.
It was also played at his funeral.
…The three days that she didn’t talk to him were the happiest of his life!!!
Image: Pool balls in the rack. Pixabay.com and a bottle of Whyte and MacKay to raise a toast to Mr Cron.
literally stories 
A bit self indulgent myself here – allowed a second listen to Lara’s theme. I raised a glass to your dad the other day, Hugh. Not Whyte and Macay but I think he wouldn’t have disapproved a Talisker Storm.
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Thanks Diane!!
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dr Zhivago all the way through but have always been aware of the music.
The toast is fine – I actually toasted him with a gin that morning – I apologised for that! Did have a few Whiskys at my mums though.
Thanks again!!!
Hugh
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Hugh
How time speeds forward. Sorry for your loss is one of those trite little things people say because we cannot think of anything else. It has replaced The Better Place as the go to condolence. If there is an afterlife I hope that it is at least one notch higher than what I deserve or at least there won’t be anyone smothered in patchouli oil in my area.
Leila
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Hi Leila,
Thanks so much!!
I normally use ‘There is nothing I can say’ as that gives me a prompt to shut up. Most folks who say that, then witter on for about twenty minutes afterwards!
When I think on it, maybe the word ‘afterlife’ was first thought up by a ‘sensitive’ due to them not wanting to face death which is after life.
…Bring back the space!!!
Thanks again!!
Hugh
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So, here’s me on my wobbly soapbox. Edit, edit, put the bastard in a drawer, real or virtual. Leave it sit. Edit again. Then, if you’re as lucky as I am, have your Sweetie read the damn thing. You see, my gorgeous, way-smarter-than-me wife, speaks another language as her mother tongue. Her English is damn-near flawless. The upshot of this is that she is a hell-on-wheels Ninja proofreader. She spots those sneaky mistakes that my poor, addled brain has long since glossed over.
That’s another bit of free advice: Get a beta reader. By them pints, treats, whatever. The reason a writer needs a beta reader is simple. Three or four reads into your own bit of scribble, and your brain decides to fill in the missing, correct the mistakes, add the missing words, and all the while NOT telling you what it’s up to. So you read it as perfect when it’s as flawed as a Torrie’s morals on Friday when no other Torrie’s are around to watch.
That’s me done. Thanks, Hugh!
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If I ever got serious about writing I might try editing. I usually do a horrible job, and then MY sweetie gives it a try. Sometimes we both miss. Don’t publications have editors to do that for me? Tongue has migrated towards my cheek, but how can I maintain my status as an outsider if I do excellent work? Live in editor is a musician, former pension actuary and teacher, nature guide, hike organizer so asking her to be a better editor is unfair. Hi Marco.
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Hi Doug,
You are with a very talented lady!!
You should point out to her how talented she is as she chose you!!
Keep the world interesting my fine friend.
Hugh
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The only reason anyone could find that made me so fortunate is that she likes short guys. An oddity – she was unsurprised that I could write. ‘very few clues.
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Hi Marco,
It is always a pleasure to see you around.
I totally agree about us filling in the blanks. We have commented amongst ourselves on many an occasion that it was obvious that a story was clear in the writers head but not in their writing.
All the very best my fine friend.
Hugh
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And, as ever, Hugh, condolences about your Dad’s passing. I still lift a glass to mine on the day.
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Cheers Marco!!
(See what I did there)
I could never forget that day for another reason, we should have been celebrating as Gwen’s sister had her 60th birthday that day and she is the first woman in that family who has ever done so.
Stay healthy and happy my fine friend.
Hugh
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Loss. My father died when he was a year older than I am now and was a functional invalid for the last ten years of his life. I measure my life against him and fall short in so many ways.
Fiftieth high school reunion. Had a great time. As a total cypher / loser in high school, I ended up with drinks at the school jock, purple heart, beloved guy and his friend the high school brain. The way I would have wanted high school to be. Jock died a few months later in a boating accident, brain is now demented. Didn’t spend much time with best bud from school because we would have years to hang out. He died from cancer in a few months.
I’m going to write about loss soon. I’ve got material.
Amazon worst seller says keep rocking or roll with it.
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Hi Doug,
I wonder what the average age is when we know more dead people than alive??
Thanks so much for the interest and comments!
Hugh
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As an actuary I should know such things. A wild guess based on the website for the Madison (renamed for politics) graduating class is 1/3 gone.
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Thanks for the clips of the ineffable Julie Christie, Hugh. Saw that film at an impressionable age and it led me to a lifelong love of Russian Literature (even Vasily Grossman’s 892-page ‘Stalingrad’!).
Take heart and best wishes: my dad died thirty years ago and I’m still talking to him.
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Hi Mick,
Thanks so much!
Miss Christie was a stunning lady!
I have a four mile walk to my work and that is the time when I find myself thinking on the dead folks I know.
…Not all at once though!
All the very best my fine friend.
Hugh
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Condolences on the passing of your dad, Hugh. I lost mine to emphysema years ago. Also, a bad way to go.
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Hi David,
Thanks so much!!
I probably have an inkling about your dad and my heart goes out to all of you who had to see that.
We should either be alive or dead, no suffering!
Gwen’s Uncle Bert had the best ending (If there is such a thing??) I have ever heard. He was in Ireland on a beautiful day with his family, at a Barbecue, drinking a Whisky that would have choked a horse, saying ‘Is this not a bit good’ and that was it, he hit the ground.
We all should go in that sort of way!!
Look after you and yours my fine friend.
Hugh
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You probably heard about my uncle Joe. He died peacefully in his sleep, but all the passengers in his car died screaming. These are the jokes folks.
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Hi Doug,
If there were no jokes about death or sex, we’d have no jokes at all.
My dad actually mixed up his time left with how long the draining procedure could have gone on for. They could only drain the lung for three months whereas he only had weeks (Seven, it turned out) left.
So he really was the guy who thought the second piece of information was worse than the first!
Thanks again my fine friend.
Stay being you!
Hugh
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Hugh,
I’m very sorry about the loss of your Dad. Mine has been gone thirty eight years and I miss him every day.
Ed
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Cheers Ed,
I sometimes have a bet with myself and decide not to think on those who I have lost for only one day. That day, I think on the bet and have to start all over again.
Thanks so much my fine friend.
Hugh
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