All posts tagged: short stories

Right, Time To Get Things Moving Around Here #WeekendCoffeeShare

So it’s been a while since I wrote a chatty, update post. So long in fact that the original ‘If We Were Having Coffee’ seems to have fizzled into non-existence. But anyway, what have I been up to since August. Well I’m still working on Shadow Dawn. The draft is now past the 70,000 words mark and I’ve had to go back to the start as I feel like I’ve completely lost track of what I intended to do with the book when I started writing it. On the plus side, I reread a chapter from about half way through and didn’t hate it so there might be hope for this story yet.¬† For the past week I’ve managed to churn out more poetry than I have done over the last three months. If you follow the site you’ve probably noticed the upturn in the activity and I’m trying to keep things that way. I’ve started posting more flash fiction based on writing prompts from Story Shack and I’m trying to put up something for …

Quite Possibly

Eloise placed the wine glass down on the table untouched. ‘You didn’t seriously…?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘You just…?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘Does that mean…?’ ‘Quite possibly.’ ‘Well shit.’ Eloise shook her head. ‘We’ll be needing something stronger than this then.’ She stood and skirted around the armchair that Mandy occupied, squeezing her friend’s shoulder as she passed. ‘Have you told Lim yet?’ Mandy shook her head. ‘Right, of course,’ Eloise nodded. ‘You can’t.’ ‘You know the rules. I’m not really supposed to be telling¬†you any of this, it’s only because your clearance allows for a bit of leeway that I’m even here.’ ‘Not this much leeway Mand, we both know you’re only telling me this so you have some sort of net if everything goes wrong.’ Mandy grimaced. ‘It won’t go wrong though, will it? You’re the best and you’re going to come home.’ She handed Mandy a tumbler of whisky and returned to the settee. ‘Drink up before my Grandfather’s ghost turns up to tell us off for wasting his best bottle on such a gloomy night. He …

Blogging 201: Give Them What They Want! Where to chaps?

I have a tendency to ramble on. I know it as well as the next person and I like to think I’m okay with that part of my personality. It makes me, me. It might be a slightly bumbling, tongue tied ‘oh god did I just say that’ sort of me, but I still think she’s an okay person. Today’s challenge for Blogging 201 [and yes I am aware that I’ve been a little lax on the previous assignments] was to ask our audience what they wanted to see on our blogs. So I did two polls. One for the assignment, and one for me. The option for a monthly feature on different creative writing bloggers is something I’m actually quite keen to do, so if you want to get involved or have any suggestions please leave a comment below.


“So this is why you moved to France?” I nod and hand over one of the glasses brought out from the kitchen. “Harry wanted to focus on his artwork.” I tell him, taking care to stand in the centre of the old barn. The paintings line up against the walls, my face staring in at me over and over, never looking quite the same. “They’re…” “Unusual?” I prompt, smiling over the rim of my glass. He grins back sheepishly. “Yer, I suppose.” We don’t say anything else. I watch him drink and wonder why I didn’t choose him.

Those Who Know Us By Name

“Well if it isn’t little Miss Swinnerton.” Jack chuckled, scrubbing a rag over his hands as he walked out of the workshop. “I thought you’re working away in the city somewhere.” Sarah smiled and let the car door fall shut behind her. It was always the city with Jack, never a name. “How’d you recognise me.” she asked. “What was I, five last time I came here?” “Six if I remember rightly. You made a point of tellin’ me as soon as your Granddad lifted you out the car.” Sarah nodded. “And of course I recognised ya.” Jack grinned. “You Swinnerton women were always the prettiest faces to come and visit me.”