Writing Strengths and Weaknesses

Hello everyone.

(Well I say everyone, there could be no one there for all I know. You could all be watching the football or doing something interesting. Not like me. I'm just sat in front of this computer screen writing a blog. Then I just press publish and let the internet fairies do their work).

As you know I go to one of the leisure classes at a college in the nearby town of Northwich to study creative writing. And if you didn't know, you do now. And if you didn't know, where have you been? Are you sure you're on the right page? Although, if you are new to this blog then welcome. Join the party! We've got dancing girls.*

At last night's class I took a turn to read out a piece of my work. It was the first three pages of the story I 'm currently writing. I've read a few pieces out in the past and this was no different with the responses.

Overall everyone in the room liked the piece. They said that the dialogue was strong as was the opening scene with the band finishing their set in a grotty club.Which means I'm pretty good at the talking bits and opening at the right point. Well, I hear you ask, which bit did they say needed the improvement? It was some of the descriptive imagery and prose. So the question is: How do I improve on that part of the writing process?

But here is the thing. The little pieces of flash fiction have been pretty decent in the descriptive areas. And the story, which is called 'Sex, Blood and rock'n'roll', is in the very early stages (I've written about 7 pages at the moment which by my reckoning is about a quarter of the way through the plot). By the time it's finished the 'bar scene' might be a nice little part of it which deserves to stay in. But this is something I can decide on when the time comes. Whether it affected the pace of the story overall is another decision (the consensus was that it slowed the introduction down. To be honest, I thought that as I was reading it out).

See, its tricky to know what is right and what is wrong. Or is there truly a wrong when it comes to creative writing? Isn't it all down to opinion? I've no idea why I'm asking you all this. Sometimes Its just good to write it down and send it into the black void of internet blogging where it merges with all the other little blogs and becomes a part of a much greater community. Like the Borg. Except without the mechanical bits. I hope.

So I send this off. Go my little blog. Go and play with the others. Have fun.

What am I talking about? I knew I should have tried something else. Should have just chucked a load of bricks into a tin of blue paint or something then called it modern art. Probably have made a fortune from it as well.

Ta ta for now





*We haven't actually got dancing girls. Something to do with a restraining order.

To write or not to write: that is the question

Well hello everyone!

Right settle down now, especially you at the back. Just remember I'm watching you.

So I've been thinking about what to write on here next. Some of you might want another entry into Room 101 and some of you might want another episode of 'Like Ships That Pass In The Night'. But at the moment I can't do either of those things.

Now before you all start reaching for the valium let me explain. There will be more from both of those topics. But not yet. At the risk of sounding a bit poncey, I haven't been inspired enough to write about them. I'm currently writing a new short story which is taking up all my creative brain power. And as there isn't a huge amount of brain power in my head at any one time anyway, diverting more from the critical areas such as remembering to eat could be risky. I could end walking down the high street with my trousers around my ankles or, worse still, start supporting Liverpool which just can't be allowed to happen.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes.

So I'm writing a new short story as I said in my last post. It's got vampires in it. But these are the non sparkly type of vampires. In fact, let me just say this right now:

VAMPIRES SHOULD NEVER SPARKLE!

Anyway, ahem, as I was saying .
The vampire story.
So that is at the forefront of my thoughts. And I want to write it. I really do. It's just that these things, with me, tend to take their own good time in getting from inside my head onto the page. Ok the page is on Microsoft word but you get the point. At least I hope you do. Thankfully I have enough to read some out at Tuesday's college class. By the way, if someone could keep my notified as to score in the Everton v Oldham cup replay that would be most appreciated.

So, here is the question;
Should I push it harder and be more disciplined when it comes to my writing. Should I force myself to write something even when I'm not really in the mood. Or should I take the step back, as I do now, and relax until I'm fully feeling inspired?

At the moment I'm happy with the way I write. I think I'm improving all the time as a writer. I have a good group of friends who help each other out. We give each other advice and support without saying one way is better than another. I know I could improve my output, but would it improve the quality which, as far as I can see, is the important thing?

So what do all the other writers out there do?

Ta ta for now.

Making magic (slightly delayed)

Well hello to you all.

You're still here. Guess there mustn't be anything good on the tele at the moment.

Anyway, you might be pleased to hear that very shortly I'll be commencing the writing of a new short story which will hopefully go into the anthology that I'm working on.  Or you might not be pleased to hear that. Think I'd prefer it if you were though.

Now I was going to start tonight but...

I have a notebook where I make all sorts of notes on stories and character profiles and what not. I take it to work with me so that if I get a burst of inspiration whilest pretending to do some some work then I can jot it down straight away rather than trying to remember it till I get home.

So what's that got to do with tonight?

Well, in said notebook I have a few details of the plot along with the character building exercises I have done for the two main characters. I also have some killer lines of dialogue that the two leads are going to speak at some point in the story. I've also sketched out the opening scene in a pub with a band just coming to the end of their set. It was a pretty good opening scene as well. All it needs are a few words like 'the' and 'and' to make a nice opening paragraph.

And I've gone and left the notebook at work haven't I.

So, I could wait till tomorrow to start writing it or I could take a chance and start writing another beginning. I mean, I know the scene and everything.

But I already have a beginning sorted out and I don't want to have two beginnings even if they are essentially the same.

So, tomorrow it is.

Ta ta for now.

Like Ships That Pass In The Night Part 2

Hello again

Right, so, last week I blogged a piece of flash fiction that was inspired by a train journey (if your looking, it's a couple of posts down) and intially I thought that was the end of it. But then a couple of people seemed to like it (yeah I know, it surprised me as well) and wanted to know more about the characters. So I got to thinking 'maybe this could be more than one little piece.'

I know. I really should stop thinking. I can normally go for days without doing any. I mean I even try to not think because it makes my poor old little brain hurt.

So, I've written another part of it and now, here, for your enjoyment is part 2. I decided as well that I might try and use these pieces as a way of improving my descriptive narrative. One thing that I'm fairly good at is the dialogue side of a story but the descriptions are, well, sometimes not so good.

But anyway, have a look and see what you think. Comments are welcome. Oh, and it's a first draft so, once again, is probably some way short of perfect.

Like Ships That Pass In the Night

Part 2

“Ticket”

He walks towards the station, sheltering underneath the black umbrella as the rain hammers down into the street. The light from the street lamps reflects on the wet surface casting the early morning gloom in a warm yellow glow. He steps carefully around a large puddle in the middle of the pavement. He can’t get too wet as there is an important meeting today but he briefly remembers back to a time when he would have gladly jumped into it with both feet. He carries on past the row of taxis with their glowing neon light atop their hard black shell, each one patiently waiting for its turn at the front of the queue to be next to pick up a passenger and take them on their journey to wherever. The drivers, who would normally be standing together, are huddled in the warm and dry of their vehicles and carrying on conversations through windows or studying the racing guide.

He passes the newsagents just inside the entrance to the station and checks his watch. He always tries to give himself time to buy his own morning paper to read on the train. The umbrella is folded down and given a quick shake before being fastened shut. He goes in the newsagents and buys the paper, handing over the exact money. He always has the exact money for the paper. He steps back out into the main area of the station seeing people hurrying to and from the various platforms. Some are running in suits and skirts while others take a more measured pace in jeans and trainers, but all with a quiet determination to get to their destination. He joins the queue at the self service ticket machine, waiting patiently as the other commuters buy their passage. Eventually it is his turn and touches the icons for his options on the screen before inserting the ten pound note into the appropriate slot. He hears the whirring from the inside of the machine before the ticket is produced and the change given. He takes the ticket and then goes for the change. As he turns from the machines a one pound coin slips from his grasp and he watches as it falls. It hits the edge of his shoe and spins away from him and across the smooth floor, the edge glinting as it catches the light. A brown leather ankle length boot stops it swiftly before a gloved hand reaches down and the coin is swept up in one fluid motion. He raises his eyes to see the face of the one now holding his runaway money and a memory flashes in his mind. It is of a suitcase. He then sees the grey hat and the brown shoulder length hair. She walks towards him slowly her smile once again shy. Without speaking, she hands him the coin which he places in his trouser pocket with the rest.

“Hello again” he says.

“Hello” she replies.

'Modern ways' moments (number 1)

Well hello reader! And how are you?

(you've come back! Are you mad or something?)

So this post will be about drinking.

Now I will the first to admit I'm a very light drinker when it comes to the scale ranging from stone cold sober to alcoholic. But there is something that I have noticed when I have been going out for the past couple of years. I'm guessing it's not a new thing (though it might well be) but I don't remember as many people doing this when I was younger. Anyway you'll see what I'm on about in a few minutes. So where to start? Well let's start at Friday night.

Now while it wasn't the minus temperatures of the last couple of weeks it was still a bit on the nippy side. Possibly a bit more than nippy. Possibly a little bit of frost on the ground. It wasn't warm is what I'm saying right. So yours truly here, being of sound mind and body (ok soundish mind) took the precaution of wrapping up warm before heading out to the local pub. Had I thought about further I woud have taken a hat as well. Now the heart of the story is coming now. Upon the journey home, it was still rather chilly so I was glad of the extra layers. By extra layers I mean a jumper and a coat. Walking through the streets in the village I passed another couple of pubs and outside were a few people for whom the words 'coat', 'jumper' and 'cold' are a mystery. Now I can think of two reasons for the big difference here.

1: It wasn't actually that cold and I'm just getting a bit nesh in my old age.

or

2: The others were so leathered they could have been in the Arctic circle and not noticed.

And here we come to my 'Why?' moment:
If they were so leathered that they didn't know where they were, why did they get into that state? And more importantly why did the bars in question carry on serving them if they were clearly drunk? Now I'm no prude. I have been drunk on a few occasions, after all none of us are saints. But I've never got to the state where I can't stand up properly and end up falling about in the street. So clearly there is now some sort of culture where getting falling down drunk is considered cool and 'a bit of a laugh'.  Now a couple of the pubs serve shots. As far as I can tell the sole purpose of these drinks is to get you drunk as quickly and as cheaply as possible. Why I don't know. So is it the fault of the pub for selling them or the fault of the people who buy them with the sole intention of getting legless?

Do we need a situation where the pubs shouldn't be trying to make as much money as they possibly can and the average person on the street should be aware of how stupid they look when falling over in the middle of the road and throwing up into the gutter. Or do we say that because this is a free country the minority should be allowed to drink themselves into a stupour, though the vast majority of people don't, even though it is a strain on the police and ambulance services?

Again, not an easy question to answer

Ta ta for now

An attempt at a piece of flash fiction - Like Ships That Pass In the Night

Hello to all my readers out there!

So , yes, as the title of this post suggests I am about to inflict a piece of my creative writing onto you all. It's a piece I was inspired to write yesterday when I was on a train journey and while it's not the most 'happy-clappy' of stories at least in this one no one dies or has their life turned upside down. I hope the piece is little slice of whimsical magic. Probably isn't like but one can try.

It's a piece of flash fiction. For those that don't know, that's a complete story which is told in only a couple of hundred words. I believe that maybe a thousand words in the upper most limit though someone may be able to correct me on that. So what you get is a little snap shot of life. In this case it's the story of two people going on a train journey...

And it's a first draft so it's a long way short of perfect so there are probably mistakes a plenty. But it's a start.

So here it is. It's called (for now anyway) 'Like ships That Pass In The Night'. Comments welcome...

Like Ships That Pass In The Night

He bounds the steps up to the station platform, breathing heavily in the cold winter air, just in time to see the train approaching from the slowly thickening mist. He sees that there is only one other person on the platform, a woman with a Costa coffee cup in her gloved hand, long brown hair underneath a grey woollen hat. He sees that next to her is a very large suitcase. The train pulls into the station and after an alarm beeps, the door slides open with a hiss. A few people get out and continue on their journey into the early evening gloom and he sees the woman is now struggling to get the case onto the train. He walks quickly over to her.

“Allow me,” he says

“Thank you,” she replies softly.

Grabbing the handle he lifts the case on to the carriage after the woman has got on to the train, storing it safely into the luggage area at their end of the car.

“There,” he says, “all done”

She smiles, nods, but says nothing. They both look down the carriage to see that there appears to be no empty seats, instead face after face looking at them with pity. Looks like you are both standing until the next station at least, they all seem to say.

“Standing room only then,” he says

The train moves away, slowly at first but rapidly gaining momentum and the man and woman stand together but apart.  There is a jolt as the train switches from one set of rails to another and the woman falls back slightly. Instinctively his hand comes up to stop her falling further.

“Are you alright?” He asks

“Yes fine,” she replies. “Didn’t even spill any of my coffee.”

“Wouldn’t want that”

“Far too precious. It’s the one rule I have. Never to spill any of my skinny latte.”

“I can see how much it means to you,” he says.

They fall once again into a silence only punctured by the sound of the train.

There is an announcement over the tannoy. They will soon be approaching the next station.

“My stop,” the woman says

“Would you like me to help you with the case?” He asks

“Thank you. That would be nice.”

The train once again slows to a stop and the doors open. The woman gets off and the man steps off with the suitcase. As he hands its over to her, their fingers gently touch and their eyes make one last contact. She smiles shyly and he finds himself doing the same.

“Thank you once again,” she says

“Don’t mention it. Hope you get home safely”

“And you.”

The man jumps back on the train as the doors slowly close.

As the train once again pulls away from the station he watches as the woman pulls the suitcase along the platform. As she disappears from view he wonders if he will ever see the lady with the skinny latte and shy smile again.

2nd Entry Into Room 101

Hello again to you my faithful reader. (What do you mean you've been reading other blogs?)

This next entry into Room 101 comes next Thursday and so is rather appropriate.

Valentine's Day

Now before you all start to say that it is "merely out of bitterness because I'm single and no one loves me" that I'm getting rid of the supposedly most romantic day of the year I'm going to say to you, "yeah, and your point is?"

Let's face it, is there a more pointless 'celebratory' day than this one? I think not. It's just an excuse for card shops and flower sellers to go up to people and say "Why don't you show the person that you're with how you feel by buying a hideously overpriced bunch of flowers or chocolates?" Or worse still, they're telling we single folk that it's the best time to tell the object of your affections that you fancy them. By buying them a hideously overpriced bunch of flowers or chocolates.

It's also the one time of the year that smug couples come out of the woodwork (probably wearing matching jumpers) and believe it's their right if not their solemn duty to say to all the singles that they know (and they use this exact line)..

Don't worry you'll meet someone eventually. He/she will turn up when you least expect it.

They then turn and give each other such a sickeningly lovey-dovey glance that makes everyone else within a hundred metre radius vomit uncontrollably for a good ten minutes, before swanning off in the opposite direction (no doubt holding hands) making said single person wish there was an axe handy.

I have a two word response to their statement. The second word is off. The first word isn't suitable for this blog as it's a family show.

I mean, come on, isn't that the most pointless, patronising and just down right annoying thing that can possibly be said. If you want to be helpful supply the following information as well:

The time, date and place of said meeting.
Her name.
Her age.
Where she comes from.
What she looks like.
What she will be wearing on the said occasion.
What her interests are.
What my first line of conversation should be.
What her response will be.
And the name of the restaurant where I should suggest we go for a first date.

See, you getting the point yet? Now that would be helpful. But they don't do that do they? Noooo that would mean that they were actually being useful.

So for making the entire world pink for a day, making single people everywhere feel that they are about as much use as a condom in a convent, and for just ripping people off then Valentine's day should be banished for ever into Room 101!

Do I hear a 'hell yeah brother!'?

Well, do I?