Archive for the ‘Short Story’ Category

This could be a bit of a mish mash post.

Firstly, I might up the ante to 3 blog posts a week! Wow! Why? Because whenever I come her on a Friday to add a new one, I notice my stats are flat-lining. So, to increase the stats, I might just post once more every week. Please stay with me and don’t vanish!

It’s been a busy day, and this post is going to be incredibly rushed. In fact, I doubt I will publicise it immediately, due to the fact I have had a busy day! And my mobile phone network has gone down. Not that it is a major issue, but I am a control freak and can’t function unless things are going the way I want them to.

Which brings me, ever so neatly, to the main topic of this post. On Monday I said I had bought the Positively Productive Writer by Simon Whaley (Which is now £4.95 on Kindle, so if you haven’t bought it yet, what are you waiting for?).

I’d done my goals, and in the main, I have achieved a lot of them. But I don’t feel any more productive. I have had a very hectic week though.

The next point Simon makes in his book is about rewards. Now, he doesn’t say when to take these rewards. I do them instantly! I am a bit of a Pavlovian dog in that respect. Today, I have had a manicure, because that was my reward for writing 1000 words of the novel (yes, I did it! 1300 actually.)

Do the rewards help me? Sometimes, yes. Perhaps my rewards are the wrong sort. I also think that I have too many goals. Keeping up with them all is a job in itself. So, I may have to goal each project individually. Yes, my long term goal could be 9 stories. but when it comes to rewards and goals, it should at least be specific to the story. At the end of the time limit, I can see if I have achieved that long term goal.

Next week, I am going to change how I work. I am going to do the chores before I write, as this is something else that I feel is making my writing life pretty chaotic.  Maybe the rewards will be more enjoyable in a clean, organised household. I can all but try!


Do you reward yourself?


It’s that time again! [Fiction] Friday Challenge #243

Use this as a springboard for your story- writing from any point of view you’d like to take. “A new Olympics event has been introduced. Although it has met with resistance due to the danger and unusual abilities competitors are required to be have, its a huge crowd pleaser.”

The papers announced the final decision. It was all over the front pages, every single newspaper read: Run for Your Life Event Created

The opposition had been overwhelming, but obviously it wasn’t enough. Geraldine read the article, with bemusement and distrust.

“I can’t believe they are allowing this! It is lawful lawlessness.” She said to her colleague in the driving seat.

“Yes ma’am. But what else are we going to do about the overcrowded prisons?”

“Well, I would have thought that they wouldn’t have started with the murderers. And to think, the tickets sold out in 20 minutes. People actually want to see this!”

Her colleague started the engines.

“You do know that there are medics on hand?”

Geraldine shook her head. “That is besides the point.”

“It’s the recession. That is what is causing the overcrowded prisons. Everyone has been used to affluence and aquisition. Now the government is taking their means of achieving this, that now the most law abiding are turning to crime.” Her colleague mused.

“Yeah, I know.” Geraldine gazed out of the window.

They were on their way to a meeting. Although the event was organised, the murderers, rapists and paedophiles had to be contained within the arena. She was amazed that nobody had noticed how different it was to get tickets for this particular event.

She listened to the Chief Constable. Eventually, he had stopped talking and invited questions.

Geraldine was the first to speak.

“So, when do we tell the spectators the truth? When do we tell them that it is them who have to be able to defend themselves against these monsters? Will they ever know that they are the hunted?”

“They won’t know. Not until the first attack.” The Chief Constable said.

Geraldine shook her head. Too many innocent lives were about to be ruined, in what could only be described as people culling.

The End

Wow. This is the first Friday of 2012. It is also the first [fiction] Friday of 2012. It is also the first time I have taken part in [fiction] Friday on my brand spanking new blog.

So, without further adieu:

[Fiction] Friday Challenge #241 for January 6th, 2012 Include these characters somewhere in your story–a weasel, a priest and a spinning wheel.

The police entered the room. There were no signs of forced entry, and few signs of any struggle. The commanding officer made his way to the dining table in the far corner to see what was on it. He looked and saw a board game, one which he had never seen himself before. It had a spinning wheel, though the game design didn’t look old-fashioned. He rested his hands on his knees, leaning forward trying to see the pictures on the spinning wheel, careful not to touch anything.

“Guv,” A female voice said, and he turned to face the door. “You need to look at this.”

He followed the police officer up the stairs. The cream carpet was immaculate. When he got to the top of the stairs, he followed her to the second bedroom. On entering it was obvious it was a child’s room, though the child was not too young. It obviously belonged to Stephen, the nine-year old boy who used to live here. The commanding officer looked around. The bed was unmade. Odd. Everything else was tidy. The police officer who had called him indicated the left far corner, where some sort of cage was sitting on the floor. Around it was blood. The carpet had soaked the blood, and they moved closer to the cage.

“Stephen’s?” The C.I. asked.

“No. Unidentified as yet. Take a closer look.”

The C.I. leaned forward to peer into the cage. He recoiled in shock.

“What on earth was that?” The C.I. asked, covering his nose.

“Weasel, or a ferret, or some other animal of that type. Forensics will be checking it out when they finish outside.” The police officer answered. “And, the interesting thing is, the weasel was dead before Stephen.”

The C.I. left the room, in search of more information that would help bring the murderer to justice.

He was approached by another officer, and stopped. The young man seemed eager to tell him something.

“So, his dad is a priest. Stephen didn’t go to church. Wanted to stay home. Found an injured weasel. Wanted to look after it you see. On the day Stephen died, neighbours say they heard his dad shouting. Sounded like an exorcism they say.”

“What about clothes?” The C.I. wanted to know.

“Well, the day Stephen died was a Sunday. He was in his clerical outfit. Dry clean only apparently.”

“The game?” The C.I. started seeing what had happened.

“Church bookstore. They sell more than just books………..”

The C.I. went to look at the game again, with its unusual spinner. As he looked closer he saw that it was the Church’s answer to the Ouija Board. There was a scrap of paper by the board, and scrawled across it was written: The Boy Must Die.