Here we are at Week 286
The year is fair flying in.
We sometimes say to submitters to try relevant sites if their work is specialised, or if it is a genre that we don’t publish. But the one thing we don’t do is give out suggestions to where someone could place their work.
To be truthful I don’t think either myself or Diane have much knowledge of any other fiction websites.
Chris leaned his head against the bus window. He was tired but he couldn’t let himself even doze as that would turn into deep, much-needed sleep.
And here we are at Week 285.
It’s interesting reading some of the introductions that we receive in the initial emails.
Before I moan too much, at least these folks do acknowledge that we are out there.
I’m not saying that anyone exaggerates but some of the plaudits some of our unsuccessful submitters have are extraordinary.
“Right Israelites…Where are they?”
“Only me boss. Do you like my frock?”
“It’s very fetching. And who are you?”
“I’m Charlton, the rest of them seen the smoke in the distance and thought there was a fire heading this way. I mean they’ve just got dried from the sea thingy, miracle, whatever the fuck.”
“The sea parted, it never touched them.”
“I know but they’d all pissed themselves. They’re not very brave. Anyway they fucked off home, wherever that is.”
Continue reading “The Ten Commandments by Hugh Cron – Warning – Adult Content”
Well here we are at week 284.
Diane’s answer to the first of Leila’s questions on the Re-Run got me thinking.
How much do we understand our characters?
Lee and Harry stood outside their manager’s office. She glowered at them. The music from the communal room was deafening.
“Jesus fuck! Am I not in enough trouble? That’s all I need, Tom and his Gary Glitter infatuation!”
Continue reading “Gary Glitter And The Camel Hair Coat by Hugh Cron Warning- Adult Content”
Here we are at Week 283.
I’m hoping Diane adds a wee bit into this.
I thought this week that I’d tell you a bit about how I read the submissions.
Using my eyes is a good start. I tried with my ears but that was just shite.
Fergie left early again. He was fed up with the self-acclaimed King Of The Pub. He was a cunt. He was a pumped up insignificant prick who walked about as if he’d shit himself. And the clothes, fuck the boy thought he was a gangster rapper, he was nothing more than a nipple-end with some ‘roid rage.
Continue reading “The Viaduct by Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Language”
Maybe it’s just me and my limitations but I was wondering how many writers choose a genre before they start to write?
David
I just don’t know! What’s this world coming to? A security guard who is nothing but a slip of a girl. It’s not right.
But no matter. It’s the shopping centre’s problem. I have to admit that it’s nice that they give me my breakfast. But in saying that I’m paying them enough. She does check on me, I’ll give her that. But surely that should be a man’s job?
literally stories 