The idea of doing writing challenges was to get into the habit of writing everyday, but that seems to have gone by the wayside a little! So I’ve done a couple recently – and enjoyed them thoroughly as I always do! (Mental note – really must do them every day!). As always I used the Writing Challenge app, where you get fed a word or a phrase and have one minute for each – timed.
She didn’t know his name – not his real one anyway. In her mind he was Hugo. He had a quiff and a glass eye.
“I don’t live here,” he’d said when he opened the door to let her in. “Just looking after the place.” Hugo stood back and let her in.
She went in and saw photos of him all over the place: mostly of him travelling. He was obviously very confused. He clearly did live here.
“This isn’t my key,” Hugo went on. “I’m just looking after it.” The key was put back in his pocket.
“Would you like to sit? I shouldn’t really offer. It’s not my house. I’m just looking after it. But sit if you would like.”
She sat and tried not to stare at him.
“I’m afraid I haven’t got any food in. It’s not my place you see.”
A mathematician once said that “together forever” lasts a fortnight and after a passionate two week fling Tess had to agree. Visions of bridal gowns and corsages danced across her mind. She could get a job here and give up her boring office existence for sun, sand and sangria. Life could be a beach….couldn’t it?
“Ladies and gentlemen we have completed our pre-flight checks…” intoned the nasal air steward. Tess rubbed the sand between her toes and smiled ruefully. Her “forever” had finished.
And yet more writing practice from my favourite app! I’m noticing that all my timed practices tend to have an element of the macabre about them…perhaps I need to start writing happy endings. Have you noticed any themes that you weren’t aware about in your writing? In my novel in progress I have the words “rotting death” which was the point at which my husband stopped reading. To be fair it is a children’s story so he needs to man up a bit, but I don’t think “rotting death” would terrorize a child – if I’d gone into the details and described everything down to the last drop of gore I would be concerned. I think that a frisson of fear is good in a story though :). What do you think?
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On my Writer’s HQ course that I’m currently doing, there is a recurring theme of “just get writing”. So I revisited my lovely Writing Challenge app which does exactly the same thing, and here’s what came out this time.
It’s slightly macabre – I wonder what is going on in my head sometimes! I suppose this is what happens when you switch off the planning and switch on the writing.Continue reading →
I wrote this after a gig – it struck me that musicians have a special relationship with their instruments.
He held her in a loving embrace. She was taller than him by a good few inches and leant back into his shoulder nestling into his neck. They curled elegantly around each other. He tweaked and played with her, stroked her neck, slapped her side. The crowd were transfixed. They felt like they had stumbled upon an intimate moment. The rest of the musicians were oblivious – they each had their own love affairs going on. The beat picked up and the slapping continued. The audience roared its approval.
Musicians and their instruments
As the set carried on the music rocked and rolled and rocked again to keep the audience on the edge of their seats. The boy leant in close to his double bass in the slow numbers and murmured into her neck and flung her out with a spin when the beat quickened.
The finale saw a majestic pirouette then as quickly as the boy had been to stroke and caress his bass, he let her go and lay her down on the sticky pub floor.
The boy’s girlfriend came up to help clear up. She held the double bass’s cover up to throw over its’ head. The boy took it from her hands, kissed his girl on the cheek and said, “I’ll do that,” and lovingly tucked his bass away.
His girl stepped aside and just stared at them. Her eyes gleamed in the stage lights. As the boy zipped up the bass’s case his girlfriend glared. She felt jealousy bubbling up inside her.
The boy put his arms around her and whispered in her ear. “Thanks for coming tonight.” She smiled and de-clenched a fraction – there were some things she could do which his double bass couldn’t. Her smile froze. He let go of her and picked up his bass to carry in both arms.
She frowned again. The three of them left together.