Tag Archives: creative writing

Prison of a dark pearl

Blackness descends all around me

Clothing me in the shadows of darkness

How dark can it get?

Darker than dark

I am hidden from the world

Hidden within the prison of a dark pearl

They keep me safe, but blind, concealed alone

Clasped within the hands of the damned

I am at their mercy

For at any time, the pearl can drop and break

As can my soul

When shall I at last wake?

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Daily Prompt 5

Today’s prompt – Dragon – Clarinet – Alien – Fear – Pineapple

I had an interesting passing thought with this one today, but I am trying to ignore it as I am too busy with other writing projects at the moment.

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Sunday word count 1

I will try to remember every Sunday to post up my weekly word count towards novels and short stories I am working on. 

This past week I have added words towards one short story and three novels. This is not including writing down ideas of new stories I have planned, nor is it including research notes, blog posts, poetry or anything else – just novels and short stories.  The word count is not spectacular, but I am working on improving it.

The grand total this week is….

5679 words

Disappointing huh? 

Well here comes the excuses; this is actually a slow week for me because I haven’t done much writing this week at all in comparison to my normal writing week.  Why?

My desktop computer monitor decided to die on me for two days.

I don’t cope well with the heat, prone to heat stroke and breathing problems.

My son is off from school for the next six weeks, so my writing count is usually cut by half on school holidays.

I have been reading and researching more.

I have been learning about make-up application and have been addicted to watching Nabela Noor and Jeffree Star on YouTube, I discovered them last week.  When I gave up being Goth around 15yrs ago I never really learned how to use make up and never wore make up since and I am getting to the point I need coverage, ha-ha.

So there are the excuses, I only watch an hour of YouTube a day this past week, so it’s not stealing that much from me in regards to writing time, considering I rarely watch TV, so TV is rarely a distraction for me – I tend to watch programs whilst writing, programs that doesn’t need me to look at the screen too much such as The Proms, radio channels, or the occasional glimpse at nature documentaries such as David Attenborough or the Spring Watch team.  I lose my hearing too much at random times, so I have learned not to make my life revolve (or is it evolve?) around TV, because I often have to use subtitles and get to hear virtually nothing a lot of the time anyway.  So I have learned to be a reader/writer/researcher, unless my eyes go on me, then I am going to be OK regarding entertainment.

It is because my hearing levels are so random from one day to the next, that I can no longer keep my secretarial and classroom assistant jobs that I used to have.  Hearing loss is a big bother because I can’t do much independently regarding going to a doctor and hearing them, I need someone with me who can interpret via lip syncing to tell me what the doctor has just said, it is even worse when dealing with things on a confidential front such as banking, particularly telephone banking when online banking goes wrong – you have no idea how many companies out there do not accept a speaker on a deaf persons behalf, I am only glad I am not a deaf mute, because then I would seriously have problems.  I often have to try and talk to someone I can’t hear on a phone, hoping my husband or someone else can interpret for me as long as I give them verbal permission over the phone, my goodness, I feel for the mutes.  Especially as three years ago I had a throat infection that lead into the ears that was so bad I had laryngitis for 4 months solid, so I have experienced temporary muteness and I did have a banking problem then, that I couldn’t solve until I could speak, 6 weeks to get a fraudulent act on my online payments sorted out, because I could not voice that I gave my husband permission to handle it over the phone for me!  For 6 weeks my account was blocked because I could not verify that I gave permission, I am only thankful that my account doesn’t pay any major bills.

Well anyway, going back onto my writing I could have written a lot more if it weren’t for the interruptions, I would say as much as 16k more words and I don’t expect my word count to be beyond 10k a week whilst the school holidays are here.  I do most of my writing in the living room on a desktop computer and my son rarely leaves the room and is often loudly shouting about his robots in the robot wars arena he has made on the carpet and his robot wars videos he watched on YouTube overtakes the music I put on to get me into the mood for writing fiction.  It is easier to write poetry and research and make research notes or further synopsis’s of new stories than it is to write towards novels or short stories for competitions during the day.  Most of my writing at the holidays happens between 11pm and 1am, but Henry is suffering from some emotional issues right now which mean that my days can be very challenging and tiring by the time night falls.

When the holidays are over I write sparsely throughout the day because of my ADD and therefore I can often get 3k words done on some days.  Well anyways, the future will show and tell if I can remember about Sundays.  You will see patterns of no writing at all some weeks, because I get health problems which mean I can’t even read a book at times, such as a chest infection with a running nose, where I am busy literally every single second trying to keep myself together and alive without choking.  Sad but true, I have an immunity issue that is much better since having a radical diet change but I still get long illnesses. 

Anyway, I will update my weekly word count towards short stories and novels every Sunday. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

 

 

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Prompt result 2

GOBLINS – MOON – FOREST – UNICORN – SWORD

These prompted for me a prominent story idea of which I can’t share here but they also prompted some lesser ideas which I am more comfortable in sharing.

The idea I won’t share will be written after my four current projects which will probably be started around Halloween. Meanwhile I can just keep adding to the idea in snippets every time a new thing comes to mind and keep adding this to its own special folder until I am ready to work it like a jigsaw puzzle and make it into something akin to a largish novel.  There is quite a bit to the plot already but I need to flesh it out in my mind before I start writing it all down from beginning to end.

Here are the ideas I am willing to share which will probably not be worked on, unless of course I could eventually post them as stories here.  Which is something I didn’t think of until now; I could do them as flash fictions.

  1. A goblin runs away from a lynch mob of humans as they believe he had something to do with the disappearance of a little girl in their village. He is so frightened that he runs away into a forest of which he is not familiar with as he is a mountain goblin, he finds a unicorn that befriends him and helps him find his way home again eventually.
  2. In fairyland there is a unicorn moon festival approaching where the annual migration of stampeding unicorns is seen throughout the whole of fairyland and all the fair folk gather for the festivities, however, the goblins are determined to stop the migration of the unicorns because it disturbs them and they endeavour to wreck and ruin the entire event.

Do remember to join in with these prompts and either post them below or link them in the comments below to your own blog page.  Don’t be afraid to experiment with these ideas yourselves, this is my way of trying to help exercise peoples brains to become more creative and to help get them out of their supposed blockages by giving them the tools to learn how to get out of it and do something.

Have fun!

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Prompt result 1

Today’s prompts were Mermaid – lightning – apple, blue and bird. 

For me the searches I had found prompted these following ideas.

  1. An electric eel mermaid from the deepest depths of the ocean is trying to prove to the other mermaids who live up higher than she does that because she comes from the darkest depths that she is not evil and dark by nature. Unfortunately she loses her temper trying to make the others see a different side to her that she accidentally electrocutes a prominent figure in the other mermaids’ society and she swims away, higher and higher until she gets to the surface of the ocean, where she befriends a blue sea bird. 
  2. A woman is trying to organise a mermaid theme birthday party for her daughter’s eighth birthday. Many trials and plenty of errors meant that it was a struggle for her to find mermaid theme food for her daughter, but she stumbles across a recipe for blue chocolate apples in edible glitter stuffed into an ice-cream cone and that saves the day! 
  3. A bird has magical powers of throwing out lightning from his beak befriends a beached and sick mermaid and he brings her apples to eat from the island she is beached on.

Now all of them are very good ideas for stories, whether they are flash fictions, short stories or full novels who knows what will happen with those story-lines?  I am not claiming these story-lines, I am merely demonstrating how easy it is to play with ideas with a few keyword prompts and how you can train your brain to do this in everything you experience day to day.

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Writers and non-writers

A lot of non-writing people think that when you say you are a writer you have had books published and you are successful and have a lot of money or you are a social recluse.

They imagine that I sit for three hours a day or more just tapping away from beginning to end the same novel day in and day out until it is finished and then post it to the nearest publisher and within a week or two I get a phone call about how great the novel is and how I should expect to join some top celebrity at some award ceremony somewhere and become a millionaire within a year. 

But this couldn’t be further from the truth unfortunately.

For me, writing is mostly planning, writing short snippets that doesn’t go anywhere and redoing work I have already done.  I don’t follow a set pattern to my work as my brain (as well as most other writers I know) doesn’t have an organised brain like that.  Also quite a lot of my time as a writer is spent imagining things freely without writing, because the thoughts sometimes come too fast that I simply cannot type or write fast enough!

I will think about my vampires one minute and do a paragraph there, then I am onto the mermaid story and do a few lines there, then my brain will give me an altogether different idea and I have to write three or four pages of the proposed plot down immediately before I forget it, then I have to edit the three chapters I finished last week as I felt in the mood for it.  That is the life of a writer – me!

A majority of my work will never see the light of day because I worry about its content.  Is it too violent?  Are the sexual scenes too graphic?  Is this touching a socially taboo area?  But I don’t stop writing them because it is a part of who I am, but it does mean that the public will never get the full and raw me and I don’t think that society ever does get that from any author anyway.

People who don’t write don’t understand that there is much more to writing than that and for a lot of people who do write, it is never about the money and it is never about the fame.  Take me for example; what spurs me on to write?  Originally what spurred me onto writing was the fact I enjoyed it too much not to do it – the second reason was that I hoped my stories would become movies.  I really do still hope for the latter.  But it is not a realistic dream yet.

I don’t intend to be a scriptwriter, which makes it all the more difficult.  I don’t like the idea of my privacy being invaded when I am out shopping as I can often suffer from anxieties in new places and having a famous face someday will just add to the stress for me.  But despite this, I love people and making them happy.  I wouldn’t be human if I said, I don’t want the money – but being rich from writing is also not realistic.

Which begs a question as to why I do it then?

I do it for the love of writing and the love of play.  I am a very playful and imaginative person who constantly lives in hope that there is always something better than this.  I believe if you don’t like to play and you find writing hard work and you want the money and the fame and you don’t believe there is something better than this then you are wasting your time.

I love entertaining people, I love being a hostess, I love sharing ideas with people, I am very much a people person by my very nature.  I have often thought about becoming a life coach or a creativity coach as a lot of people who know me describe me as a very motivating bubbly and uplifting person.  I don’t see why though.  Because to me I am a very pragmatic and often sharp person with people, particularly those I find who are ignorant and arrogant or both. 

Despite dreading fame for the having my face noticed in public and despite the fact that becoming famous through writing is probably a pipe dream, I do still fantasize about how happy I would be seeing how happy and excited strangers will be whenever they see me around.  But it scares me witless too, what lengths would some people go to in order to be near me?  It terrifies me.  But I am more than happy to be polite and friendly to any who come near and by me, entertain them as much as I can but I would just want to get on with my life, do the shopping, and spend time with my family out and about without such concerns.  I suppose I get the fear of the behaviour of fans from my mother, because my mother is the sort of fan who screams and charges at celebrities whenever she sees them – I couldn’t cope with that as I am a naturally jumpy person.

So instead of worrying about the good and the bad, I have decided to just let life happen to me.  If the universe thinks I should have that kind of life, let it happen and hope it’s all good.  Maybe I will somehow be protected from all that fuss – who knows?  All I want to do is write, entertain and have my brain poured out onto the TV screen eventually as good movies.  That’s all I really want.  If I was rich enough I would probably produce movies instead of books, not that it would be any faster quite the contrary, but the notion of working with a large team of people playing with the same dream would be absolutely fantastic.

Besides, with the people I am related to, doing this is in my blood by all accounts and I should fine fitting in with playful, imaginative people in that setting like a glove.  Let’s hope gran was right. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Casey’s Crown

There are some distant church bells chiming across the foggy moors, ghostly songs are being sung, songs of a thousand years.  Casey is chilled to the bone; her grey shredded shawl flaps clumsily around her, making her image seem fragmented in the distance.  The ghostly song soon turns into evil menacing laughter and in the distance, a carousel spins, the decorative horse eyes that surround the carousel in their beautiful jewels and golden poles are aglow.  A demonic voice beckons Casey to go forwards, towards the carousel, welcoming her to the fair, welcoming her to sights never seen before, welcoming her to yield to the desires of them from the unknown.

Tentatively she steps forwards towards them, compelled by their magic.  Her footsteps are soft and delicate like tiny faeries dancing on the petals of roses so softly that the petals are unharmed.  Casey soon notices that her grey and brown rags are changing, but she doesn’t care, she just carries on towards the demonic fair, tip toeing like a ballerina in jade silk slippers.  Her clothes are turning into beautiful jade and gold coloured silks and white laces, her muddy hands are transformed to the hands of a beautiful clean lady, her fingers slender and rich, her nails polished and long… she is not Casey any more, she doesn’t know who she is turning into, but the feeling is glorious.  The demons at the fair cannot be seen nor heard any more.  There is a strong looking soldier standing by the carousel on guard – but Casey is not sure of what he is guarding.  He salutes Casey and a fanfare then erupts around them, an unseen army is marching she senses, not far behind the carousel, playing a robust brass band as they go along. 

A smell of roses accentuates the air around her.  Then, in the clearing of the fog, as she walks around the carousel, she sees them, the marching brass band and their soldiers in tow of a beautiful gilded litter carriage.  Peering into the window of the litter carriage Casey saw a beautiful young woman, in a golden gown with jade jewels bestrewed around her, her hair is unseen for it is covered by a beautiful jade scarf.  The woman, of which Casey presumes to be a queen, waves her hand towards a man presumably a steward to open the carriage door.  He does so, he calls to the soldiers in the band to halt and abruptly the music stops and all is still.  The Queen descends her carriage gracefully and on tippy toes walks elegantly towards Casey and takes hold of her shoulders, smiling sweetly down at her.  She is a pretty lady, very sweet and tender looking, like a mother attending to her infant.  Slowly the Queen stands aside and gently pushes Casey towards the opened carriage door and placing her crown upon Casey’s head, then walks away from Casey, slowly turning into a rag ridden young urchin and disappearing into the fog.  Confused Casey stays looking back into the fog for the queen, tentatively feeling for her crown, it felt strange upon her.  

The above story is a shortened version of a novelization I am working on and have been working on since May 2017. 

I wanted it to be a series of horror books, because Casey will have adventures and will lead into adventures of new characters along the way.  The thing is, I am not sure how many books this will potentially be or whether or not they will ever be completed, so I felt that it would be relatively safe to post this up on the blog.

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1st draft vs 2nd draft

I would like to know as a reader which of the two opening paragraphs below makes you want to read more?

1.            The explosion could be heard for miles and the scent of smoke from the fading buildings tainted the air for days afterwards.  Maud, a nine year old little girl was found in the nearby cemetery, huddled by the cemetery wall shortly after it happened, she was discovered to be the daughter of the local priest, Father O’Hara and his wife Mildred O’Hara, they were killed in the blast and half the church had gone too. 

2.            Smoke and dust filled the air and sirens deafened all around.  Her eyes filled with tears as she saw her home being bombed by the unknown attackers of her city; a little girl no younger than nine was holding onto her ears with her eyes closed crouching by a tombstone in the local cemetery nearby.  It was an awful sight; it was an awful noise, much more awful for a little girl like Maud.  After a while somebody found her crouching there all alone.  They asked her name, they asked where she lived but all she could do was cry and point at the pile of smoking rubble that was her home.

This is based on the novel I was writing for NaNoWriMo, the first paragraph is the absolute first draft of this story, and the second paragraph is the revised second draft.

Would you keep either of the paragraphs or revise again?

A little information here, I never completed NaNoWriMo or this novel, the story is on hold until after Christmas.  I managed to write approximately 37,000 words towards this and I didn’t consider it to be a half way point. 

 

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Spectral Vampire

I tiptoed through the shadows, stalking him and he didn’t know I was there. Light-footed, my steps traced the line of his footsteps down the darkened pathway towards the car-park; gently I called to him, nothing more than a whisper in the breeze of the night and he turned towards me, he didn’t see me at first, but then, just like a cat, I stealthily approached him and made my excuses to ask for directions to keep his guard down.
He came to me and leaned towards me, nodding at the map in my hands and pointing helpfully, but all I was interested in was clenching my thirst and hunger and grabbing at him around his neck and pulling him close to me. After I was sure he was in my grasp I did so and dropping the map that was in my hands I bit into his neck for the warm sweet juices that flowed within. I barely drank away half of his life until we were disturbed by something brash, violent and fast, coming out from the car-park at us with beams of painful light. The old jeep of my enemy Neil Porter swerved up behind my victim and ran out towards me, I instantly tried to flee the scene but he had a new weapon, something I wasn’t aware he had – a crossbow and it hit into me through the back and into my heart and before I knew it I was standing next to my broken shell, seeing it bleeding to death alongside my victim and my enemy cleaning up both the mess he made and the mess I made.
I was confused at first; watching him packing the bodies away into the back of his jeep, washing the blood on the car-park floor and praying for our souls.
I don’t know where I went after that, I don’t know if spirits sleep, I just went and came back again, nothing filling the gaps; this went on for a long time, each time I would arrive at the scene I last left, each time I would arrive as hungry as the night before and each time I would vanish into the ether of the unknown again and again and again.
I would like to tell you about the first night that I came back.
I came back to the car-park, confused at the new night, wondering where I went and how I got here again. Why here? That question never got answered. I walked through the car-park and across the pedestrian crossing and into the park, I sat on a bench for a while, collecting my thoughts. A few people walked passed me, but no one seemed to be able to see me, someone nearly sat on me that’s how I know. When this happened I felt a deep loss, a sense I had lost my self somehow, I knew I wasn’t whole anymore, I saw that yesterday, but I had hoped that death would have been kinder to me somehow.
My hunger grew to an unbearable level, standing up from the bench I walked further into the park and had hoped to go through to the gates at the other end of the park that lead me to the town’s most night friendly amenities, but I was stopped by some peculiar young girl, twenty something, sniffing the air, smiling and dancing like she was chasing butterflies and coming straight towards me. Right into the jaws of death, so it seemed.
Confused I watched her with both bafflement and caution as she laughed and spoke out loud to herself “Oh the lovely smell” and reaching up into the air trying to catch something invisible even to me! The hunger in me made me retch; I tried to ignore it, because I was dead right? Dead people don’t need to eat do they? So why have I got this hunger? Is this my eternal punishment? Am I in Hell? But the pain got too much; I took a chance that perhaps I can still feed in my spectral form? So, as her head was stretched up looking high around her I put my arm around her waist and lunged into her throat but I couldn’t feed on her blood, her body writhed in agony in my grasp, screaming, but her blood wasn’t soothing my hunger. I held her whilst she screamed, cried and bleed to death. Then I knew, I saw her life leave her and as I sniffed for her suffering, I breathed a little of her into myself and my hunger lessened. Her spirit was too fast for me to catch once I realised what it was that I now needed. How beautiful the feeling of peace was, when I breathed in her soul.
Shortly after a man came into the park and saw the girl lying in a pool of blood, he ran to her to see if she was OK and tried to raise an alarm, but I went to him and my scent side-tracked him from his alarm call as he stopped in mid-sentence and started to sniff the air dreamily around himself. I placed my hand over his nose and mouth and whispered comforting things to him whilst I suffocated him to death. He didn’t see me, he only felt and heard me. He died within minutes of oxygen deprivation and I kissed his life out of him and felt in paradise.
That’s when I knew that vampires don’t find peace. That’s when I knew that being a vampire I am truly eternal and that’s when I knew that nothing can be explained simply.

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Vlad Dracula III

Since the 2nd January I have been slowly reading a history book with a fine comb called “Dracula, Prince of many faces; his life and his times”. I am reading this because I have never sat down at length and read an autobiography of the real legendary hero of Romania outside of short documentaries, articles and mentions in other history books.
So, because a lot of the things I knew about Vlad Dracula before I read this book seem to come from so many other sources, I feel that they are perhaps more accurate than this book. I know you probably think I am wrong to state that because the person who wrote the book was a historian, though I dispute it nonetheless; on the ground that according to my research the Florescu family were well known to be enemies of the Dracula’s and this book was no less written by Radu Florescu, possibly a descendant from those enemies.
I found the historian to be a sympathiser of the Turks and the Ottoman empire despite his apparent heritage; he also doesn’t view Dracula in the same light as other historians and other sources that I have read and he seems to have altered certain facts of major events within his life to make Dracula come across as an unstable tyrant who was unpopular from the start; quite the contrary to the fact. OK, I grant you it is tyrannical to go around killing people in the manner that he did, but by and large he is a much loved hero in Romanian culture, not something a lot of tyrants can proclaim.
So, it makes me wonder, if a lot of Romanians hold Dracula up in a favourable light, whether or not Dracula was as bad as this historian claims he was?
Obviously taking his executions into account they were evil and sadistic, but then again the same could be said for a lot of other cultures in the world at those times. He especially learned his techniques in every manner from the decade or so he was held prisoner and educated by the Turks themselves, so, he is as he was nurtured and the Turks certainly did nurture him ultimately for their own gain. They wanted money, horses, food and a certain amount of young boys integrated into the Ottoman empire to form part of their expanding armies as a sort of security against any Wallachian response and allowed Dracula to govern Wallachia for them, something of which didn’t last long once Vlad Dracula established himself back on his home soil; Dracula rightfully denied the payment and tried to juggle diplomacy between the Turks and the Hungarians for a long time, though eventually it was decided that the Turks were taking too much advantage of their supposed alliance and Dracula dealt with them promptly and harshly as would any other good ruler of the times.
The attack on German immigrants however, is a new thing that I’ve learned about him from this book. Because it is the first I have heard of these events, I cannot dispute it as a legitimate fact.
Many of the things I have learned about Vlad Dracula have made me feel in awe of his cleverness in these very tricky treaties and wars. He was very canny and wasn’t easily duped.
His reactions against the Turks taking possession of his land was by poisoning everything valuable such as wells and damaging his own crops and livestock; he also built dams to mire the edges of the Danube to protect his people from the canon fire from the Turks and then ensuring that his own people moved to safer places away from the invaders leading up to the famous “night of attack” was a very admirable feat, and showed how benevolent he was towards his people despite claims from German sources; He was also incredibly lucky, as six years before this event he was in a war where only 8000 Romanian peasants armed with only pitchforks and scythes, ousted 24000 Turkish professional troops, how he mustered that I have no idea, but to me it shows me how great he actually was, I am very taken by the history of this great and unappreciated man!
I am not taking for granted that things within this book are fact – due to the other sources I’ve learned from. I cannot vouch for whom or where those other sources came from, but I do know one of them was about the legend of Dracula in both media, fiction and fact in one of Jonathan Ross’s specials where a baroness spoke of how great a hero Vlad Dracula actually was and how rightfully offended she was of various inaccuracies and the fact that this great man was turned into a successful horror story.
Some of the events in Draculas life seems more altered in this book than from the other sources too, for example, the incident where he killed a man’s wife and replaced her – from other sources it was said that she didn’t iron his clothes properly and that he was a soldier in Dracula’s army, this book claims he was a normal peasant and his wife got the length of the shirt wrong – so there are some questions about who is right or not.
I have no formal qualifications in anything of which I am saying, but I have read a lot and watched a lot of documentaries over the years about this great prince; I am also an amateur genealogist. I like reading books about wars and royal classes from the 11th to the 17th century and all over the world not just limited to Europe. I read and study these independently to assist me to write such things accurately in any fiction I write, I write a lot containing feudalism generally in many of my fantasy works.
I also educate myself on all kinds of superstitions around the world and so-called heathen beliefs, to again, make my worlds seem more real. I have studied the social sciences to help me further, though I gave up my undergraduate qualification when I found my illness and having a toddler very difficult to juggle with university studies.
By and large I try hard to learn about all things cultural and I think if you are making worlds that aren’t based on Earth or are based on an earlier time on Earth, you need to do the same thing too, otherwise everything will seem unreal to the reader.

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