May 3, 2011 § 6 Comments
I am in the throws of changing my career. I no longer want to be a web developer, I want to to be a writer. I am nearly 40 and want to make positive steps towards a new career before my 40th birthday. My head is now full of opinions, stories, anecdotes and literary musings. I want to release them on an unsuspecting public.
I may write something you are not happy with, let me know. Your opinions matter. I may say something that makes you laugh, let me know, so I know to write more of the same. Your happiness matters to me.
That will do for an opener. I don’t want to go on and bore your eyeballs out. I sincerely hope you enjoy my writings.
June 14, 2011 § 13 Comments
After ordering her usual small black coffee, Margaret sat alone at their usual table for the first time in her life. It had taken her two years to find the courage to come alone. It had been that long since her husband Ralph had mysteriously disappeared off the coast of Normandy in 1940.
Coffee rationing was imminent and Margaret was taking advantage of what was to be her last coffee for quite some time. Absorbing every memory and feeling, she hoped somehow, would bridge the void in her heart.
A single large tear rose from the corner of her eye. It was a tear of both joy and sorrow. Ralph had been a loving husband, she could never forget how wonderful he was. He was a caring, doting father. He is missed by all, but mostly by Margaret, his loving wife of 20 years.
The memories of a thousands happy conversations, soft tender touches and deep loving gazes into each others eyes, across their table, were still heavily prominent in her mind. As she gazed down at the dying swirls from the last stir of her spoon, she questioned everything the M.O.D had told her.
Nothing added up, she repeated in her mind, drowning out the bustle of other coffee shop residents. But there was nothing she could do. Colonel Tenet had warned her on the day of the hearing. The world was at war and her problems paled in significance, sorry but that the truth of the situation – he coldly added.
Margaret had fought the M.O.D for over a year to find out the truth of her husbands disappearance. Putting her new marriage, the bond with her children and her fading health at even greater risk. The situation had consumed her.
Margaret stood, shaking with bated breathe, infront of the M.O.D council as Tenet spoke. She had stayed strong throughout the whole affair and to hear Tenet’s words brought a darkness and loss over her. She fell forward onto her knees, no longer able to stand. She held her heavy head in her hands and cried uncontrollably. The situation had obviously taken its toll. She surrendered her faith, feeling lost, helpless and unsupported. None of the attendees moved to help, only watching blankly at the unfurling proceedings.
The echoes of silence were heavy in the brooding air. Margaret was left in a heap on the dusty wooden floor. Tenet respectively looked on and tried to empathise with the feelings, the pain and the anguish Margaret would be feeling. “What have I done?” he deliberated.
Tenet slowly rose from his seat. Quietly walked from the bench into the back room of the courtroom and closed the door behind him. “It’s done”. He cursively announced.
“Good . . . . jolly good. So, she thinks I’m dead? Are you sure?” Agent Ralph Peters retorted. A single large tear rose from the corner of his eye. “So it’s over, she can move on, good . . . . jolly good”.
After the passing of some time, she summoned the strength to leave the courtroom. Slowly make her way down Whitehall towards Kings Cross Station. She boarded the 14:32pm to Pickering and headed home to pick up the pieces of her fractured life.
It seemed the longest train journey of her life. Margaret thought many times of getting off at any other station than her home one. But the thought of leaving her children, the children she had with Ralph, kept her going. She parted from the empty cold mists of Pickering station and made her way through the town to the corner of Willowgate and Burgate to their favourite coffee shop. Maybe it’s time to move on and put this behind me, she mused and paused before opening the coffee shop door breaking the wartime silence of the streets, allowing the stir of the shops occupants out into her new life.
After ordering her usual small black coffee . . . . . . .
This piece was inspired by prompt “She thinks I’m dead” on the bekindrewrite site from their InMon xvi page. I have just started writing. I am using my blog to experiment and find my natural style. I would love to hear your thoughts. I hope you enjoy!
June 13, 2011 § Leave a comment
Well here it is, as promised, my update on my life as a wannabe writer . . . . . two. A little early, but I have finally found the time to sit infront of my mac.
I need to admit, it’s been a difficult second month. After making the very positive decision to move away from web development, I have already found myself being sucked back into the matrix, to pay the bills.
I wish I’d made this decision before I had children, a house and other financial responsibilities – *coughs*, Taxes. Oh how hindsight is the most cherished of all thought processes as one gets older. I also wish I knew how to bottle hindsight, I have a youth market that would love it and pay a handsome sum for its powers. Although the government wouldn’t be able to tax it, so it would be classed as illegal. Oh crap, oh how the powers-that-be spoil everything Sorry, just a rant – I don’t do it often.
I’ve had a difficult week trying to find the time to commit to the blog and feeling suitably guilty that I haven’t kept it up as much as I said I would. I am going to try harder this week.
I have, however, been working on a new children’s rhyming book. An idea I had a while ago. I have uploaded the front cover design. (not actual size) I would love to hear your thoughts. I am hoping to have it completed for the end of July. I will then present it to a publisher for (fingers crossed) publishing. I will then use the revenues, if any, from the book to finally move away from web development and live my life as a wannabe writer like I have planned.
If anyone has any advice on getting a children’s book published, I would be extremely grateful. For the first time in my life, I am out of my comfort zone.
I would like to thank everyone (again) for your help advice and support over the past few weeks. Without you, I wouldn’t be progressing as fast as I am. My confidence is definitely increasing as a writer. A big shout out goes to Marantha, of GHOSTWRITER fame, for her support and warm, lovely comments all over my blog. And to Monica, of Amalias Story, for her grammar and lessons in languag tuition. It is appreciated.
Thank you for reading my blog. I will be blogging again sometime this week with something more interesting.
May 31, 2011 § 1 Comment
Happy Tuesday morning too all.
I would just like to send to al,l who have sent comments and compliments, an apology for my late replies. I have had internet difficulties for the last week or so. It has nearly driven my mad being away from my blog and not being able to write – I do feel an addiction coming on. As long as Virgin Media behave themselves, it won’t happen again. I have now replied to all of your lovely comments and I will be dropping by your blogs to catch up and add my own comments.
One last thing, a big thank you to everyone who has spent any time on visiting my blog over the last few weeks, it is much appreciated and giving me lots of confidence to continue writing.
May 25, 2011 § 13 Comments
Wow – writers block for the first time. Feels weird, like jet-lag with a hangover and a feeling of losing my favourite teddy (Rusky). The more I think, the worse it gets. Time for my 6th coffee. This is odd, I can create a 1000 word creative piece without too many issues, but writing about my first month in my new life as a wannabe writer (as the title indicates) is a different matter. I can’t get lost in the emotion, the strange worlds, thoughts and musings – it’s a real world, my world.
Right, I’ll try again later. In the meantime, I’ll take a photo of my creative space, my writing heaven, so you can see that I inhabit a real space and have real things, it’s the internet – you never know. It probably looks staged and too tidy, but I live by the “A tidy desk is a tidy mind” principal, it works most of the time. I am still shaking the shackles of a web developers analytical, structured existence.
I wrestled with whether I should put an image of my writing space on this piece or a picture of Rusky, but as Rusky is away visiting my son, it was inevitable my workspace won that little battle. Rusky will be back soon. I will put his image up soon – he’s a handsome bear.
25th May 2011: 12:16pm
Right . . . . got it.
I started this blog on 3rd May 2011, after deciding to change my entire career from being a successful web developer to a wannabe writer. I found sitting in front of a computer and facilitating others greed wasn’t what I wanted to do for the last part of my life. I have spent the last 10 years sat infront of a pc/mac creating social networks, systems and services while losing my own social life. And to some degree, my soul. You can only spend so long programming till 3am every morning before your health starts to deteriorate and you start losing who you are in the matrix of zeros and ones. So here I am, I have made the decision and I am spend as long as it takes to make as much of a success of my writing as I did in my other life as a web developer. Welcome to my journey . . . . . time for another black coffee.
25th May 2011: 14:16pm
I have spent that past month dwindling my bank account down to dust, buying all the books in the world with an interesting cover or books I felt I needed to read to have a respectable level of understanding of the literary world outside of my mac and the internet.
I have read everything from Animal farm to Dan Browns: Digital Fortress, from The Catcher in the Rye to A Perfect Day for a Bananafish, from The Lord of the Flies to WikiLeaks and the Age of Transparency. I am trying to read as many genres of books as I can to give me a greater understanding of writing and the literary world I am to live in for the rest of my life. I must admit, I am struggling with picking up a romantic novel – I just don’t know whether I could commit to reading a soppy story of girl-loses-boy, best-friend-fancies-girl, girl-and-best-friend-marry. I live in fear that I will enjoy it and it may be the genre I am naturally suited.
I would like to write political conspiracy thrillers. Gritty and exciting with car chases and gun-fights. Actually I could just write about Saturday nights in Doncaster, just kidding, it’s Friday nights which are like that.
If you could suggest a good romance novel, that would be helpful. Thank you in advance.
I have only written a few posts on my blog. Some based on my life’s events, some based on prompts from various websites, mainly InMon from BeKindReWrite and some from sparks of inspiration from overhearing a conversation on a train or being sat in a coffee shop. I am using my blog to experiment with writing style, meet like-minded writers and hopefully put my writing career on the right path.
I already feel honoured to be part of all those keys around the world, being furiously tapped for hours and hours, creating wonderful worlds and writing about interesting experiences. I have already changed my outlook on my life and the people in it. I genuinely feel this could be the change I needed. I am healthier, happier and less stressed with everything and everyone.
I feel a great sense of honour and pride that some writers/bloggers, I now class as literary friends, have already spent precious time involving themselves in my blog and are actively engaging in my writings by leaving comments. It means a lot as I need to build my confidence in my new career as a wannabe writer. Sending love and peace to you all.
My declaration to you: I will try to blog everyday and keep my blog interesting. I will actively promote friends I meet and participate in their blogs. I will be open, kind and honest. I will continue to be open to criticism, comments and discussions about my writings. I will do what I can in my power to aid in the success of others blogs. I will add a new post on this page at the end of every month to keep you up-to-date with my progress.
I hope you enjoy my writings. I would love to hear your thoughts. Your thoughts, comments and criticisms are just as important to the success of my writings as the writing itself.
I have a few questions, I hope you wonderful people can help me with.
1. As mentioned, can you recommend a good romance novel I may enjoy?
2. What was the hardest part of getting your first piece / poem / novel / short story published?
3. If you had to go back in time to the start of your literary career over again and could leave yourself a note to help your career go more smoothly the second time, what would that note say?
4. Where is your space for writing?
I would like to thank anyone who engages with this post, or answers any of the above questions, in advance. I know time is precious and at present, yours more than mine, so I really do appreciate it.
May 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
In a world of consumerism and capitalism, it’s inspiring to know that there are some people who believe we can survive, be happier and live a more fun filled existence without our branded nonsense. This is extremely wonderful and a must see . . . . http://www.ted.com/talks/arvind_gupta_turning_trash_into_toys_for_learning.html
Thank you for dropping by, I would love to know your thoughts.
May 24, 2011 § 24 Comments
Saturday’s were always the same. Wait for my Dad to let us out of our bedroom, usually after he’d been to the toilet. Go downstairs – quietly. Sit on the sofa in silence, making sure our feet weren’t up on the cushions. Wait for Mum to come downstairs to see if she had a black-eye, I couldn’t look at her if she did – Dad would stare and frown at me. Dad had the bushiest eyebrows in the world, they scared me. Dad scared me.
Dad would sit in his usual chair beside the door to the stairs reading his paper. He was the gatekeeper to all of our nice things in our bedrooms. You see, I couldn’t have toys downstairs, it would make too much of a mess, plus Dad doesn’t like the noise children make. And I couldn’t play upstairs because the noise from the ceiling would disturb him while he did the crossword in the paper. I understood, he needed to concentrate. Sometimes I don’t know why Mum and Dad had children. There are three of us, me – the eldest, my younger brother and my youngest sister.
My sister is from a different man. Mum said that’s why my Dad was so angry all of the time and took his anger out on her. But that doesn’t explain why he took his anger out on me. Why I made him so mad and why he threatened to put me in a children’s home if I did anything wrong. It doesn’t explain why he would smack my face so hard it felt like it was touching the sun and shouted like he was trying to crumble the house to the ground, if I looked at him in a certain way. It also, doesn’t explain why I was locked away in the cupboard above the stairs and couldn’t come down, all day, to play with my friend. I could hear my friend laughing outside, playing with his other friends. Maybe I was a bad child and I deserved it.
If I could talk to my Dad, if he would listen, I would ask him what was wrong. I would tell him I loved him and I didn’t mean to be naughty. I would tell him, he could love me and I would loved him back for always. I would explain that I didn’t mean to make him mad, I used to have dreams about that.
I used to have dreams . . . Saturdays were happy days.
I used to have dreams . . . I was happy.
This piece was inspired by prompt “I used to dream” on the bekindrewrite site from their InMon XIII page. I have just started writing. I am using my blog to experiment and find my natural style. I would love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!
May 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
May 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am a huge believer in the new world transparency movement. Julian Assange – WikiLeaks, despite current media manipulation, is a fantastic ambassador for this cause. Here is his recent talk at the TED. Fascinating:
What are your thoughts on the new transparency movement?
May 23, 2011 § 8 Comments
“You wouldn’t think to look at her, but Angela was a drifter. A hardened, highly conditioned drifter with streets-smarts. There wasn’t much you could get past her but she wasn’t well educated and she could hardly read.
Angela had been moving from town to town since she was a little girl, in fact she was 10 years old when she ran away from home. Apparently, it was after a disagreement with her . . er . . stepfather . . . or something or other . . . anyway . . . she packed a small ruck-sack and hadn’t been seen since, by her family.
Angela had lived in over 50 different towns across all states, from Nevada to D.C. She seemed to be enjoying the lifestyle and the people she had met along the way. She was on her way back home when it happened.
It was the 4th April 1968 – I believe. It just happened to be Angela’s 16th birthday. She had travelled from Jackson, down highway 40 towards Memphis, accompanied by a man by the name of Martin King. Who was a travelling preacher of some kind. He had no previous, so we had no reason to detain him, for any length of time.
They travelled for a day or two ’till they arrived in Memphis. He mentioned that she had asked where a motel was, just somewhere she could stay for a night. He told her there was a lovely motel called the Lorraine Motel on Mulberry Street. He was going to stay there until Angela had mentioned the local flood warnings he decided to continue to the next town.
King dropped Angela off at the motel, he wished her well and went on his way. We caught up with him two days later in Madison. He was extremely cooperative when questioned. He did mention one thing which the other officers felt was a little odd. Apparently, she had a clock in her hands and didn’t put it down – at all. His description of the alarm clock was even odder – it constantly showed the wrong time, it beeped at 6.01pm on both days, had a large orange and green lettering on the top, which read – “Time to Die”.
King had asked her whether she knew what it read and she told him that she thought it said, “Time Today”, cos that’s what her stepfather had told her. He mentioned to her that it was an unorthodox alarm clock and she replied with, ‘it was the only thing her stepfather had given her. It showed the time and date of the last time she had seen him’. He also mentioned that Angela started to cry, so asked her if she wanted a paper towel. She quizzingly replied with, “paper towns?, that made him laugh out loud, which made her laugh. He said she was fine for a time afterwards. It’s all in the report, you can read it yourself – honestly, I don’t know why you are asking me again.
Mr King had asked about her reasons for leaving, all he could say was, something along the lines of – ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time and she had to get away from that bastard . . ‘. He was shocked at her outburst, she looked so sweet and innocent, not the type to cuss.
All I can tell you is; She entered room 306 at 5:45pm, it was in the left hand corner, on the top floor of the motel, at 6.01pm shots were heard coming from her room and she was found dead soon after. Witnesses have stated that there had been a visitor to her room 5 minutes after she had arrived but he was never identified, there wasn’t any evidence, but you know that.
I’m sorry – I have said enough, we must conclude. ”
“Mr Ray, is it?. I didn’t know that actually – thank you, interesting. More importantly, how is it that you know all of this? If Angela hadn’t been seen since she ran away from home, how could you have known where she had been and what she had done? It just doesn’t add up.” questioned Gez. Gerry Posner was a reporter from the Memphis Flyer. He was currently writing a novel on the mysterious death of Angela Davis.
“I never said I’d spoken to her.” replied Commissioner James Ray – the officer in charge of the investigation at the time.
Sharply, Ray stood from his chair, leant forward to where Posner was sitting and pointed towards to the door. “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE!”
“But, you said she wasn’t . . . . educated, how did you know?. . . you said —”
“THANK YOU, whatever-your-name-is . . . “. Ray rudely interrupted. “That’s all the time I have.”
“It’s not all the time you gave Angela is it Commissioner Ray? You’re her . . . . . . . ”
This piece was inspired by the remaining prompts on the bekindrewrite site from their InMon XII page. I have just started writing. I am using my blog to experiment and find my natural style, so this won’t be the best story you have ever read. This is the first time I have written in this way and have found it an interesting challenge. I would love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!