Happy new year and return to 100WCGU

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

It's been a while since I last blogged. 

I have completed my Grandad's memoirs- hurrah. He was delighted with them so I am very pleased to have achieved what I set out to do. It has been wonderful finding out so much about him and his time in the war and his working life. I hope the rest of the family enjoy it.

Term starts for me tomorrow and I have just about got the planning finished. I never plan too far ahead as it changes on  a daily basis depending on the needs of the children; but it still takes what seems like an age.

I am now going to edit my nanowrimo in earnest and see if I can manage to get a few more of these 100wcgu completed now. 

I also must get the decorating done. My lovely hubby and son worked out that if I keep on the present rate it will take me nine years to finish so I need to hurry up a bit!! Will do some after lunch...

Anyway, enough prevarication.

This week's prompt from Julia is

 ... you said you’d do WHAT?….

 Read all about it at http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2013/01/07/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week72/ 

Here is my effort. One of my aims this year is to tell less to the reader! I will try. 

Feedback is always welcomed- (comments are moderated to avoid spam) If you don't like it please tell me why!!

Read the rest over at http://www.linkytools.com/wordpress_list.aspx?id=179012&type=basic

WEEK 72

Clouds of smoke swirled as Big Jake exhaled. He stared penetratingly at Mickey.

“You said you’d do what?”

“Well, uh, I sorta thought it would help the guys.”

“You did, did ya?”

“Jonny said he’d help. ”

 “Hell no, it’s the first I’ve heard of it Boss. We gotta cut him loose, know what I mean?”

“Now c’mon guys, it’ll be cool. We’ll be outta there before you know it. All I need is...”

Big Jake leant forward and blew a cloud of cigar smoke in Mickey’s face. “All you need kid is to go back and tell them you’re not gonna do it.”

Secrets...

I have been reading through the nanowrimo that I did back in June and have started the editing process. It's interesting reading something after leaving it for a period of time as it has highlighted the areas which, although crystal clear in my mind, don't actually either make sense or confuse the reader.
So, I am trying to put some sense and order into it.
I'm really not sure what I will do with it once I have tweaked it; a couple of my work colleagues have asked to read it as have my Mum and sisters; at the moment it's a long long way from ready.
So, dear blog followers, I am going to throw myself wide at your valued opinions and put some extracts on here.
I don't want to give the story away so will be posting parts from various points in the story. I would very much appreciate feedback- pan it if that's what you think!
Thanks in advance.


This is a part of the backstory; set in the late 1960's

“And I’ve got... ‘til forever! Come on let’s go!” and taking her hand he pulled her towards the wood, “I’ve something to show you!” 

Kit went to pick up the spilled lunch. “Leave that, for now, you’ll see why!” She let him take the  lead along the familiar paths; they’d been meeting here for picnics regularly and had spent many an afternoon in the woods exploring. Henry’s parents had taken over the village pub, the Cat and Fiddle,  two years ago. Kit’s father, Albert,  had been a frequent patron there. Too frequent for his own good .

 Since his untimely death the previous summer,  Kit had spent more and more time with Henry and his family. Kit’s mother had taken her husband’s death badly and had thrown  herself into her cleaning jobs. Most evenings she was so exhausted  she fell asleep in her arm chair  not to wake until  long after Kit had gone to bed. The weekends were spent making half-hearted efforts at conversation to enquire of school and friends. She hadn’t noticed how infrequently Kit’s friends came over, nor did she notice how much time Kit had been spending with Henry. It suited them both for Kit to be out of the house so much. Her mother didn’t question and Kit didn’t volunteer the answers.  

This is a bit from later which is set in the 1980s (I set it then because that's a period of time that I know about - also because of the lack of technology and social networking that nowadays makes it so much easier to trace people...)

It had been a mistake coming. What  had  she hoped to achieve? Was she going to learn anything that would undo what had happened in the past? “What’s done is done!” She remembered those words from her mother. The past can not be changed. She had a future with Nigel. She could just go home now, home to him, tell him what she could and finally lock it all away forever. Forget the solicitor. What was he going to tell her? That she had been left a fortune- no chance of that. Gran had never had any money. The war pension had helped her to make ends meet, but there was not going to be a fortune waiting for her. She pulled over to the side of the road and beat her hands against the steering wheel. She wanted someone to make the decisions for her, to tell her what to do. But who?

  No,  she had to make that appointment. The wounds had been reopened and  she had come this far, to turn back now was not going to ease her pain. Maybe she would at last find out what it was that her Grandmother had known all those years ago.  Whatever it was she didn't want to hear it from her mother, she could never forgive her for what she had done.

You'll notice that I have used the name Kit - one of the names I have used in various 100wcgu . The inspiration for the story came about from one of the 100 word pieces I wrote a while back. I rather like the name and it seems to suit the character. 

Thank you again for reading...

Endeavours

This is a piece I recently submitted to a writing website for publication. It was written in response to a photograph of a girl with a reflection behind her of wings. I would very much appreciate comments (good or bad!)

Angel

Nobody believed me; they just laughed or chose to ignore. “Poor little thing.” I could hear their hushed voices, “She’ll grow out of it, you’ll see.”

“It’s just a phase.”

I don’t remember the exact moment it started but to me it seemed the most natural thing in the world. For the first time since she’d died the world had started to make sense once more. They said it was my reaction to losing her- those whisper-voiced people who mistakenly thought I was unaware of their conversations. I heard each and every word.

It was the way they looked at me, or if I’m more precise, didn’t look at me that particularly grated. Never quite making eye contact, over earnest smiles that stopped at too thin lips, the talking about me as if I wasn’t there. Or worse was too young (or stupid) to understand. They knew it was true but because they couldn’t explain or understand it they chose to hide behind their hands and write me off as precocious, attention seeking. A problem.

So, they’d point and laugh when they thought I wasn’t looking, “That’s the one, you know, she’s a bit different.”

“Never the same since her mother died.”

“Over active imagination. Lives in a fantasy.”

They are all wrong. I can feel myself growing stronger each day. Last night I managed my first flight. Mother held me tightly the whole time but I could feel the strength in my wings, almost ready to fly solo and join her at last. Then they would see I hadn’t been lying. 

The doctors said it was a tumour just like the one that took her. That was the reason for my mood swings, my “imagination”. Tablets would help they said, but I knew they wouldn’t. I let them believe I was taking them- I had them well hidden along with the long since shed downy feathers. Now I have white ones - golden fringed- the exact shade of my hair when the sunlight catches it.  They light up my darkened room when spread. Mother doesn’t need to hold me tonight. I am ready for the journey.

I wanted to leave a feather for my father. Try as I might it wouldn’t come with pulling so I had to resort to the nail scissors. Strangely it came away, before the first cut had been made, to be instantly replaced by another. It faded a little as I placed it on my pillow. I knew that Father believed me deep down, but would never admit to that in front of the others. As a respectable doctor he had to keep up appearances. I would be sorry to leave him, but since she’d died he’d been increasingly distant, the pain etched more deeply across his face each time he looked at me. The feather would keep us close. If he let himself believe he would be able to see us both in more than dreams.

They would all know that I had been telling the truth once I’m gone. Perhaps I should stay a little longer but the need to spread my wings is too great. She is calling me.

 Can you hear her?

I feel her reaching out. Maybe I will come back one day...

100 word challenge week 51

I haven't had much time these last few weeks with the end of term craziness that all teachers will be familiar with. 

And now summer has finally arrived and I am sitting in the garden, shaded by the parasol with the hum of bees in the fuchsia beside me, two contented cats sprawled out on the patio, a cloudless blue sky, a gentle breeze and a glass of Pimms  water (it's only just after four in the afternoon; far too early for that just yet!) by my side. 

I have just about managed to resist rereading my campnanowrimo piece just yet- leaving it for a while longer before some major editing and maybe then I will share some here as I would love some feedback.

I am very lucky to be heading off to the Dordogne at the end of the week- surrounded by vineyards and no wifi to be found. I have a notebook ready for writing in while I am away in between the pile of books I plan to read...

This week's prompt from Julia was …. the line was drawn …. 

all details at http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/07/23/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week51/

Here is my contribution. Thanks for reading. Comments, as always, welcomed :)

You said what?

He stopped as though someone had pressed pause. His fork hovered between plate and mouth, spaghetti strands unwinding in slow motion before rejoining the others.

“You’re what?” he spluttered.

“You heard. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t. You’re nothing without me.” he placed his fork on the table adjusting it until it was at precisely 90 degrees to the table’s edge.

“It’s over.” she pushed the piece of paper across the table. He picked it up to see the line was drawn through their surname.

As she walked towards the door she ran her hand along the
 row of perfectly aligned pictures leaving each one askew.




Read the others at http://www.linkytools.com/wordpress_list.aspx?id=155445&type=basic

100 words for grown ups week 46

 This week the lovely Julia has set the challenge to include the words

...in the dark recess of my mind...

Read the full details over at http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/06/18/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week46/#comment-11391

This week's effort is a little darker than my usual offerings.

I am still trying with the 50 000 words! Up to 27K. Am in a bit of a hole (rather a large one at the moment) so am going to the gym for my mile swim to see if that will get my mind whirring again. In the meantime, hope you enjoy.

Read the others at http://www.linkytools.com/wordpress_list.aspx?id=150162&type=basic

Turmoil.

It’s early morning and I can’t sleep.

 Again.

When I turn to look at him, I see the man I loved.  Those thick dark lashes  ( wasted on a man),  hair  falling carelessly across his eyes, ears with their crumpled edges from one too many rugby games.

I still love him in these moments.

Safe.

 But I know that today, in the dark recess of my mind, I will plan when to kill him. He has driven me to this. I know exactly what I need to do, but will I have the strength to go through with it?

Will I have the strength to walk away? 

100 words week 39

This week’s prompt was to include

“Shut the door behind you. I’m exhausted” (http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/04/23/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week-39/)

I have been pretty busy with one thing and another and wasn’t too sure how (or if) to do this one. However, an idea came to me and this is what I have come up with. Suffice to say that current affairs influenced me somewhat but this  version is what I would have liked to happen rather than what is...

I’m not quite sure if I have achieved what I set out to; but here goes anyway...

Check out the rest at http://www.linkytools.com/wordpress_list.aspx?id=141719&type=basic

Heads will roll.

The tension was palpable. Heads would  roll, no doubt about that. Integrity and transparency- that was what had been promised. This error could signal the end.

  A waft of cologne arrived seconds before he strode in. Silence hung heavily as his narrow eyes flicked impatiently around the room until fixing on the perpetrator, “You’re fired! Shut the door behind you. I'm exhausted by your ineptitude.”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong. My behaviour was totally appropriate; any errors in judgement were beyond my control.”

“Enough! Your desk has been cleared.” 

Angrily pulling on his jacket he headed for the door,  “Those who live in glass houses...”  and entered the courtroom.

100 words for grown ups week 13

This week, Julia's prompt was "the unseasonal weather". I had a go and was fairly pleased with it, until I started reading this week's entries. My goodness there are some talented people out there.

 As an avid reader I am very impatient with books which don't grab my attention and pull me in- all too often I am disappointed with raved about reads (sorry, "One Day" just didn't do it for me!)

 The people who write each week on this challenge really are a talented group of people. Maybe this should be an "X factor" for writing; but without all the drama/tears !

Anyway,  I have written two entries; my first is more of a comfort write, the second is, hopefully, a little darker. (Am loving "Dark Matter" by Michelle Paver at the moment so wanted to try something different. )

Enough waffling; here they are. Look forward to feedback.

100WCGU wk 13

Thrusting her hands deep into her coat pockets, Kit quickened her pace. The trees had shed all but the last few of their leaves which clung stubbornly to wind stripped branches. The fallen leaves danced briefly in cascades of russets, golds, reds and yellows as she swept past. The unseasonal weather had tricked misinformed bulbs into life; now they bent in shame against the bitter wind. The eider ducks, barely a week ago fervently building nests, huddled together in an effort to keep warm.

 Kit strode on, determined to find answers to the questions gnawing inside.



Here is my second attempt:

Joe staggered into the desolate whiteness in search of fuel for his sorry excuse for a fire. The generators had long given up the fight and lay useless.

He pulled his coat closer and scanned the unfamiliar landscape. The unseasonal weather had initially been welcomed; but as the days dragged to weeks then months the Arctic temperatures impact on the Cornish Coast made their presence very much felt.

Some had made it across the frozen channel.

 Joe battled on,  desperation driving him forward.

A few feet behind him, moving silently on padded paws, the bear followed.

It too, was desperate. 

100 words for grown ups

Squinting in the dazzling sunlight, Kit typed as if possessed, fingers blurring as the word count soared. Her secretly recorded messages would finally be shared; those who had wronged her would get what was coming to them. Front page headlines flashed through her mind and her fingers moved ever faster trying to keep pace. Pausing, she scanned through her work. This time people would take notice of her . As she prepared to hit the send button, the headlines flashed up. “Breaking news.” She watched helplessly as her untold story unravelled in front of her. Why does it always happen that someone else gets there first?






Having spent the past few weeks encouraging the children in my class to participate in the 100WC, I felt that I had to have a go at this one. 
It reminded me how difficult writing is when you're just given a prompt; and reinforces my views on the importance of such approaches as talk for writing ( Pie Corbett  @PieCorbett  is inspirational and the INSET day l attended last year was one of the best I have ever been to), hot seating, work partners, drama, telephone talk and role play as fabulous stimuli for writing.
How often do I write? Hardly ever... I read lots- love reading. Maybe I should write more, after all I am always telling my class to do exactly that. Thanks http://www.theheadsoffice.co.uk/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups/  for the prompt for grown ups; I will certainly keep trying.