He stood there, at the door, welcoming his guests. Each, he greeted by name, repeating that he was glad to see them and that he hoped they were well and enjoying the holiday season. He had invited everyone he had known over the many years he had lived in the town, as well as some with whom he had only recently become acquainted.
Continue reading “The Outsider by E. P. Lande”
At first, long before he became aware of whispers, the stones in the cemetery trembled at his touch; not all of the stones, but only those on graves belonging to people he had known in life: comrades, teammates, family members, girlfriends, lovers – or the stones memorializing those who hurt him in life or those he had hurt. Once in a while he never knew what the difference was.
Continue reading “Whispers in the Grass by Tom Sheehan”
Emmet Emafo started his day running. Broken branches and shredded herbs told the story of the hail storm that woke him during the night. A thin mist still fell. A canvas of fall leaves swayed in trees. He became one with the morning light and shadow. The slap of his footfalls on the wet cement comforted him.
Continue reading “The Executor by Barb Lundy”
“What can you tell me about Eustace Randolph? What sort of man was he?” I asked as I took out my notebook. Gillian Reynolds, Secretary of the Friends of Eagle House, let her excited smile slip slightly at the corners.
Continue reading “The Photographer’s House by Sarah Jackson”
MC “Laura” is nothing short of honest, which gives Hugh Cron’s Concealer an extra level of irony. At her interview for what we Americans call Unemployment Insurance, she divulges the reasons for her loss of a job–and how. Her delightfully profane observations and storytelling (only half-heartedly, so it seems, warned off by her interviewer) say much about the downside of the workplace and people in general.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Concealer by Hugh Cron”
Here we are at week 381.
Everyone thinks this was Barry…See title!
‘Booze was my first love.
And it will be my last.
Booze for the future.
And booze of the past.’
Depending on your outlook you may think that is a lot of pish.
It isn’t!
And yep, I bastardised the song…..So did Barry!
But what I would say is we all have ways of handling things and no matter what, no matter how fucking destructive, we handle things in the way that we do.
For me, booze and writing are what keep me sane but you need to realise what it does for you.
The mad thing is if you write whilst really being emotional there is a lot of raw creativity there.
Is that a good thing for you as is….Who knows???
I think trying to write emotion when not feeling or having felt it, is very difficult. A reader can spot lack of knowledge, experience or sincerity a mile away. That is why a lot of YA writing is only suited to that audience. They have a different outlook that isn’t always backed up with experience. There’s nothing wrong with that if that naivety is the focus. No writer can wing things that the reader has had more exposure to and expect it to be credible.
We also get a lot of writers who do try to write about addictions, prostitution and all those harrowing topics that should only be left to those who know or have been affected. (Or the writer has done a shit load of research with those who know or have been affected and they have LISTENED.)
Dave Henson states that he likes reading these posts as there are a few tips throughout on what we are looking for. So here’s another one for those who need it. (Not you Dave!!) If you take on these subjects, really pay attention to the dialogue that you use. Never anywhere in the world would you hear something like –
‘Gosh this heroin is good.’
I’m not saying that we have had that exact line but we’ve had a lot like it.
I reckon if I read the word ‘Gosh’ anywhere in a submission, it will be a straight red card from me!
I’d also like to address the ‘perturbed’, those are the folks that send us a passive aggressive email after we have sent them a refusal. (And they have also probably used the word ‘Gosh’ in their story) If this makes you feel better, you go for it, we really don’t mind and we do understand. But I reckon that you’d be better to take that passive aggressiveness, turn it into full blown anger, get drunk, swear the real swear words and try to write something else – It may surprise you how it turns out!!
Okay Doaky Mrs Coaky, I’ve a herring in my socks…Everyone should read Kettle and Christine’s ‘Beau Peep’, now onto this week’s stories.
We had four new writers and a man who has had more stories than four of most writers!
Not really sure if that makes sense but I know that you’ll know what I mean.
To our new folks, we welcome them, hope that they have fun on the site and most importantly, we want to see more of their work!
As always our initial comments follow.
Strangely enough, the start of the week was Monday (Unless you work for your local authorities and for whatever fucking twisted reason, they start on a Sunday – There must be a financial gain for them in some way!) and we had our first new writer, Anmitra Jagannathan with ‘Autumn Eyes Lost, Autumn Eyes Found.’
‘The MC has a fine quiet voice.’
‘The tone and emotion are very well done.’
‘There is a lovely quirkiness to some of the phrasing.’
Chitra Gopalakrishnan was our next débutante with ‘Bulls And Blood, Line And Lineage.’
‘This made me smile’.
‘A bit different.’
‘The delivery was perfect for the location and setting.’
There is no introduction needed for the gentleman who broke the back of the week. All I need to say is ‘Burial Of A Dark Charger’ by Tom Sheehan was next up.
‘The POV and setting were interesting.’
‘This was touching.’
‘Tom doing what Tom does.’
Thursday was after Wednesday, it normally is and we had David Patten with ‘Volunteer.’
‘This is very strong.’
‘Great flow all the way through.’
‘This says plenty without passing judgement.’
And we finished up on Friday with Fang-Liu House by Sonny Chen.
‘This was like one of those surreal dreams.’
‘Some good weirdness in this.’
‘Strange but there is nothing wrong with a bit of strange now and again.’
And now for the usual ending guys.
Really sorry but there are things that need to be re-iterated. If we keep chipping away by reminding, maybe one day it will stick.
Please comment. Not commenting makes the devil happy and jesus have diarrhoea. He’s had that much jollop, he is more medication than figment.
And cheers Dave (Three mentions in the one posting!!!) for sending in a Re-Run. Follow his example folks and send in a spiel for an older story that you’ve enjoyed. Throw in a few questions and we’ll publish what you send us word for word. (Try not to use ‘Gosh’ as I would be in a state of conflict!!)
Just to finish.
Many folks have been quoted as saying sport and politics should never mix.
That is a fair and noble idea.
But I do think that the LIV golfers will have caused this ideal to be thrown up in the air and I think this debate will grow more legs. (Maybe those legs will run away with a lot of sponsorship??)
I have my own thoughts but no matter what, I’d put them beside our royals, chancellor, cabinet to name but a few, in a list I like to call –
How much fucking money do you really need?!!!
…Not that anyone asked!!
The answer to The Cringe on my last Saturday Post:
He said – ‘Buff my low sole chair.’ (Buffalo Soldier)
Well Hugh – my guess wasn’t that far out at that 🙂 dd
Image: – Pixabay.com
Looking from one end of a story to another is enlightening in most circumstances. Often the surprises on tap happen out of the blue … or take a piece of forever to come around.
Continue reading “Burial of a Dark Charger by Tom Sheehan”
“Wake up, rascals. See who is here,” trills our aunt Sivamathi.
Her high-pitched shrill vibrates off her tongue against her palate and pierces through our sleep.
“It must be Muttu, that rickety idiot, come to torture us with puzzles,” I guess.
With sunshine trembling on our eyelashes and seeping into our bodies, we two brothers continue to stretch ourselves lazily.
Continue reading “Bulls and Blood, Line and Lineage by Chitra Gopalakrishnan”
Callahan wishes the voices would stop, but they never do. Some are soft as a caress, some are screamed out shrill. Some are wistful sighs of longing, some are determined mantras. Some are woven with glee, some are drowned in sorrow. No matter what they are, they never stop, swirling around his head, taunting him to listen, daring him to comfort, daring him to help, daring him to laugh, daring him to cry.
Continue reading “Autumn Eyes Lost, Autumn Eyes found by Anmitra Jagannathan”
Long time site friend David Henson has published everything from tragedy to jocularity with us. He excels at stretching reality until you believe that, why yes, I can see a future in which handling a black mamba for forty seconds without dying can improve one’s credit score.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Byrds Syndrome by David Henson”
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