A Walk down the Aisle

My short story, A Walk down the Aisle started life as a play on the Grease idea; Danny and Sandy having a bit of a make-over when it finally dawned upon them that they were meant to be together, whatever it took. Somehow, the plot ended up more Green Card then Grease albeit with my main character, Isaac, more of a Lancashire, Colin Farrell (swoon) in my eyes than a Gerard Depardieu (great accent though, G).

That’s story writing for you, when those keys start tapping, there’s no knowing what will appear on the page.

I wrote the story for a competition, pressed send, had a moment of euphoria that I’d hit the deadline, a couple of hours of doing some ‘proper’ work (ie slightly less enjoyable but slightly more profitable) and then the inevitable panic that the story was muddled and dull and how on earth did I have the audacity to send it?

It didn’t win the competition.

But, the words of the everso lovely and extremely amusing Katie Fjorde at the first York Festival of Writing forever ringing in my ears - you’d take your baby to hospital when it was sick but you’d give up on a story when you could make it better? - I did some more work on it and submitted it instead to Chase magazine.

And, I’m very happy to say, that’s where it appears this month. I’d love you to take a look, Click Chase – pages 92/3 (tip! Click 'last' and then flick back three pages) to read the whole story.

I hope it makes you smile :)

Stories for Homes

Today I’m Celebrating Small, as in briefly, if that’s a concept within my capabilities, because really, this is much more of the celebrating medium variety, if not, the humongously large.

How happy was I to see that my short story, A Life with Additives had been chosen for inclusion in the Stories for Homes anthology from which all proceeds go to the homeless, charity, Shelter? The eBook is now out and the soft back is following hot on its heels. My story is, embarrassingly, a little light and fluffy but there are some much more cerebral, poignant beauties for your delectation. My advice would be to grab yourself a coffee (or a gin), a packet of hobnobs and a comfy chair - with a box of tissues placed firmly at your side. If you feel compelled to make a purchase either for the stories, the charity or to keep me happy - or a combination of all three - thank you so much. Click to buy Stories for Homes  

Charlie Wade, my blogging friend who loves a good rant now and again and boy, does he rant brilliantly, kindly asked me to guest blog on his site this week so I’m over there talking about Stories for Homes, mushy peas and dubious acting skills. Please pop over if you have a minute Charlie's Blog - Batteries Aren't Included.

And finally, I’m celebrating a birthday, my blog’s birthday, because this is my 100^th post. Frankly, when I wrote my first and checked hourly (ok, it was every few minutes) to see if my page views would reach double figures, I don’t think I ever dared to dream I’d still be here over two years later. I only started a blog because my very wise and very lovely writer friend, Jane Alexander, told me to. I thought it would be just another Facebook-esque distraction. But, right from the start, I realised how much I loved writing it. In this world of novel writing where the stories take months to hit the paper, years to edit and back to months again to hear back from potential agents and publishers, the positively rocket speed process of posting my missives and reading your comments which always make me smile, is joyfully refreshing and rewarding.

Thank you so much for reading.Please enjoy a piece of virtual birthday cake, you deserve it - take care with the golden hearts, they aren't edible.

Working With Other People

Today, I’m Celebrating The Small Things, very softly and quietly in fact, creeping in the side door, hoping if I can just sneak onto a pew at the back with the merest of small waves only to interested parties, the rest of the congregation won’t notice that it’s Saturday and I’m a day late.

But I just had to share the love, the love of working with other people. This is not an everyday occurrence when you’ve made the dubious career choice of writing cocooned in the empty study of an even emptier house while the rest of the world is either out playing or thinks you’re actually out playing.

Ok, I realise that the rest of the world isn’t playing, rather working, albeit in grinning teams of people all patting each other on the back – oh, there I go again – but it was better for my story to paint a desolate picture.

I love to write slightly more than I dislike not being with other people so any chance to work with others I snatch up. That’s probably why I love teaching and my editing work so much.

Recently I found out that I’d had my short story, A Life with Additives accepted for publication in the anthology, Stories for Homes which intends to raise money for Shelter, the charity for the homeless. This is a charity which is close to my heart as my parents worked tirelessly for Shelter when I was growing up. So I was double delighted.

The anthology is the brain child of Sally Swingewood and Debi Alper who also came up with the inspired strategy of pairing short story contributors together to help edit each other’s stories. It was a pleasure working with my writing team mate. Thus far, he's managed to stay away from all forms of social media (what IS his secret?) so to protect his privacy, we’ll call him Bob. His story is hysterical. I can’t divulge more at the moment but suffice it to say, after stifling giggles in my favourite writing place, a well-known coffee shop in Harrogate with my extra hot cappuccino on hand, one paragraph had me laughing out loud (my children would tell me I can’t use LOL and I tend to agree) like the archetypal deranged writer in the corner.

Aside from the joys of working in a team, the process reminded me how much I relish feedback. No, really, I do. Of course it would be wonderful if your partner came back with a gasp and a scratch of their head as to how they could possibly help you to make this ground-breaking story of exquisite excellent-ness any better and by the way, had you thought of entering it for the Bridport Prize? But that isn’t going to happen. No two people will ever see the same in a piece of writing. No two people would ever write a story in exactly the same way. And that’s a good thing. That fresh eye showing exactly how the words have bounced off the page on first viewing - let’s not forget that readers of books don’t actually have the time nor inclination to pore over our missives in the same way we do - always throws up howlers and confusions. I’m so happy that I’ve received feedback on my personal howlers and confusions, if a little embarrassed on occasion.

So, I’m celebrating lots of things this *Friday*:

- that my story is to be published
- that the anthology will raise money for a vital charity
- that I was assigned to Bob and his brilliant story and for him pointing out before any readers got to it that the repetition of the musical flute and the fluted of the bowl looked like the main character had a mixing bowl hanging from her lips
- that I’ve had the joy of working with real people this week
- that, although I must work this weekend, the sun is shining so I'm off to do some in the garden.

I hope you're celebrating large and small - please, come share the love...

A Change of Mind

Some years ago, I was chatting with a colleague who’d had over a month off work. I knew she’d been in hospital and didn’t think she’d mind me asking why. She pointed to her not-insignificant sized breasts, for one so small, and smiled. “These little buggers,” she said. “Wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known I’d get Pleurisy and nearly die but,” her glass was always half full, “at least they managed to save them, cost me five grand.”

It upset me that this gutsy lady had spent all her savings, and some more, on a ‘boob job’. It wasn’t on a personal level, I have no interest in what people do and don’t do with their own money. But as a society, I wondered how we’d managed to become a country where this was so important?

 Then I read that the most requested birthday present for American 18 year olds that year had been breast augmentation and my story, A Change of Mind, was the result.

I stashed the story away, it was only ever something I wanted to, ahem, get off my chest but when I was skulking around my old directories recently, searching for inspiration, I decided to dust it off and enter it into the monthly Writers’ Billboard Short Story Competition. You don’t need me to say how excited I was to hear that it had won the June competition, its prize being a two month airing on the host’s website. My eight weeks of ‘fame’ are drawing to a close so I wondered if I could intrigue you enough to fly over to the Writers’ Billboard site to read the story before it’s released into that place in the webosphere for old stories no longer required. You can find it here: *Updated: please now access through this link to my website

Many thanks to the Writers’ Billboard for the opportunity. They host monthly competitions all year round and I’m sure they’d love you to have a go yourselves! The Writers' Billboard website