Day 1: Word count 1674
I work up this morning determined to get words down on paper (or computer screen to be precise) and that was exactly what I did. With a loose plan in place, I set to work, churning out word after word. For the first few hundred words I was beginning to question my ability to ever be able to write anything worth reading (a regular battle in my head). By word 1674 I’d turned myself around and thought to myself ‘not bad, not bad at all.’ I felt slightly saddened for my character, Emily Richmond. She woke up ready to begin her day full of hope and joy only to meet her demise by the end of the first chapter. It’s fair to say that my day got off to a better start than poor Emily’s did.
After 2 ½ hours I hit my word count for the day. I could have kept going at that point. I was in the zone ready to conquer this draft. But, if the challenge of completing NaNoWriMo wasn’t enough I also have a second challenge in place and this where it gets complicated.
My NaNoWriMo draft is the second book in my Detective Inspector Richard Grange series. ‘Great’, I can hear you all say. The only problem is I haven’t actually finished writing book one. So my mammoth task this month is to draft the second book alongside finishing off the draft of the first.
November will be a tough month for me, pushing me well out of my comfort zone. But for once I think I have it in me. A recent event in my life has made me all the more determined to get this done and see it through all the way to the end. See you at the finish line!
Here’s my contribution to this weeks Friday Fictioneers challenge.
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
He stood on the deck, hands on hips, pouting. ‘Are you going to forgive me then?’
‘Forgive you? You kissed my best friend!’
‘It was nothing. C,mon love,’ he grinned.
She glared at him whilst untying the boat.
With the boat released, she smiled. With a swift swoop of her foot, he splashed. She watched him flailing as she pulled the ladder out of reach.
The sound of him bellowing ‘bring back my boat!’ engulfed the harbour as she sped towards the light of the moon.
She smiled knowing he wouldn’t be seeing her or his precious boat again.
Friday Fictioneers is a 100 word flash fiction photo prompt challenge run by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Thank you for the kind welcome last week to Friday Fictioneers, I’ve been waiting patiently all week to have another go.
PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter
It was always the same, an early morning run as the sun was rising.
When she returned, she planted a sweaty kiss on my forehead. “You stink, take a shower!” I moaned.
She flung the trainers to one side and walked away from me, giving her hips a gentle wiggle. I smiled, watching as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
I heard the surge of water as she turned on the tap, the sound of her voice as it began to sing.
Today? There is no sound, there is no kiss, just the trainers gathering dust in the corner.
Thank you to Rochelle over at Friday Fictioneers for providing us with the opportunity to be a part of this wonderful challenge.
Photo courtesy of Kelvin M. Knight
Inspired by Louise Jensen I decided to have a go at writing my very first 100 word flash fiction. I’ve since discovered this isn’t as easy as it appears so be kind. I’ve also realised that I think far to much about food. You show me bread, I think pate!
Mother lifted the tray of small ramakins from the oven, inhaling deeply the scent of her homemade pate. Once cool, they were wrapped simply in brown paper tied with string. The queue reached past the door. Some took it home. Some couldn’t wait to indulge as she handed round plates of freshly baked sliced bread. Scraping out the last morsels, Mr Clark asked once again, ‘are you ever going to tell us the recipe?’ Mother smiled. Walking back to the kitchen in silence, she opened the back door, reaching down she put out her hand to the stray. It purred.
Have a go yourself and join in over at https://rochellewisoff.com/
I was lucky enough to win a proof of this much-anticipated book in exchange for a review, which I am more than happy to provide.
Jo Blackmore suffers with agoraphobia, depression and anxiety. She thrives on the very limited routine that she carries out day after day. She is married to Max (a crime reporter) and they have a young daughter together called Elise. Early in the book she comes across a lady called Paula who asks Jo for a ride home. Against her better judgement, Jo backs down and agrees but Paula is not what she seems, claiming that Jo’s husband has something that she wants back. Max denies any knowledge of what Paula could possibly be referring to. Jo’s life quickly begins to unravel after this chance meeting with Paula. Several incidences occur which cast doubt on Jo’s ability to cope with looking after her daughter, as her mental health seemingly begins to decline even further. eventually accumulating in a visit from social services and a Doctor, where they want to investigate some mysterious bruising on her daughter’s body. Fearing that she could lose her daughter and now under doubt from her husband too, Jo and her daughter go on the run to Ireland, under the disguise of her good friend and her son.
Arriving in Ireland brings its own problems, as it is the place that Jo left with her mother when she was 8 years old, never knowing the reason why. Jo begins to find an inner strength as she desperately tries to fight for her daughter and prove her innocence as she begins to realise she is no longer knows who she can trust.
Without giving too much away, I must confess to having worked out early on what the twist was, but that didn’t detract for this wonderfully gripping psychological thriller in anyway. A pacy read, which kept me turning through the pages at speed. A must read.
#bookreview #bookblogger #psychological #cltaylor #callytaylor #theescape #thriller #books
Just finished reading this debut novel by Fiona Cummins. A fast moving book which I enjoyed from start to finish. The serial killer (The Bone Collector) was intriguing, as was his choice of victims, all of which had malformed skeletons which linked them all together. It was unnerving in places, dealing with the abduction of children, but that only added to the punch of the story. You could almost feel the tensions developing within the families of the missing children and how all the individual family members were dealing with their emotions.
I wouldn’t call it terrifying, gripping yes. It kept me interested all the way though. I loved the pace at the end of the book, and was flying through the last few chapters. The ending left you hanging with a twist, which is never a bad thing. I should add I was rooting for Erdman all the way through the book, his character was the one that stood out for me the most.
Looking forward to reading more books by this author.
One of my favourite books at the moment is one I brought last year in the USA, called ‘Complete the story.’ Every page has a prompt for a short piece of fiction writing. I admit that I’m a tiny bit addicted to it, and I try to complete one everyday.
Whilst I enjoy writing, I have a deeply embedded anxiety about people actually reading anything I attempt to write (one of many anxieties as a sufferer of chronic anxiety, but there’s a whole other blog post in that). Its hard to explain, but there’s a constant nagging voice in my head telling me to ‘Give up. You’ll never be any good at this. Stop humiliating yourself and playing around.’ Its this voice which I’m trying my hardest to quieten.
So whilst I plod on with writing my book (and I really am just plodding, because I’m the worlds slowest writer) I may occasionally post one of my small pieces of writing and hopefully at the same time start to get over my fear. This is one I wrote a couple of weeks ago, the prompt from the book is written in italics.
Perhaps it was a dream, she thought. Perhaps it she pinched herself , she would wake up. But she didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to stay in this dream world where…the sun was still shining up in the bright blue sky. Where the birds were still chirping perched up on the branches of the trees that were swaying slightly in the gentle breeze. In this world she could still walk down the street with a spring in her step. She’d say ‘Hello’ to the neighbours as they tended to their lawns and she could breath in deeply taking in the scent of the freshly cut grass. She’d walk past the school and hear the joyous noise of the children running freely in the playground with their friends. She’d go to the coffee shop and pick up a hot, frothy cappuccino and a flaky croissant. As she walked back home she would stop at the florists and purchase a bunch of brightly coloured Tulips to place in the crystal vase on her desk at home.
Sitting at the oak desk in her office, she would open her laptop and start putting down word after word, creating the world the she had in her head. However, deep down she knew that this was not her reality anymore. They were nothing more than memories of the life she used to live. Her mind fought with the reality that she was desperately trying to forget as she eventually came too, still cowered behind the bathroom door.
She stepped out of the room, blocking out the audible groaning from outside the house. She walked over to her desk, and took a moment to write ‘The End’ before she switched off the laptop. That story she had written was now her reality as the apocalypse had begun.