@libby
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I echo Kate’s comments.
I was sorry to miss the last annual story challenge when I was away from home but I’m about to start a further edit of my ghost story from the previous year’s challenge.
I’ve occasionally thought of writing an occasional blog about aspects of fiction and I could pick up that thought and actually do something. Would it be possible to know numbers of people reading it? I don’t need or expect replies but it would be useful to know if anyone is looking at the entries — an indication of whether I should carry on or not đ
I like Sandra’s idea of being able to expand our profiles, not just for new members but for existing ones. Apart from topics that come up in posts, I mostly don’t know what is interesting to fellow Denizens, either long term or temporarily. I’m thinking of writing and reading though anything else is welcome too.
Thank you, Sandra. I haven’t tried commenting so I don’t know if the link works or not, but thank you for attempting it.
The admin side of writing stories is boring. Looking for submission sites, keeping track of submissions and rejections and keeping my stories filed in an easy-to-find order — it’s all time consuming, and I don’t even write many stories. I submit even fewer.
Thank you!! I keep thinking I must submit that story somewhere.
If you’re in the mood for another, CafeLit published one of mine earlier this month CafeLitMagazine: A Horse, A Queen, Some Crockery by Elizabeth Leyland, homemade lemonade
But honestly only read it if you feel like it.
CafeLit asks writers to name a suitable favourite drink – hence the lemonade.
I don’t remember a sex scene in The Offing though if I sense something – anything – which seems a clunky effort to suddenly heighten the drama, I start to disengage. If the author has a crisis of confidence, so do I.
I find it easier to explain why I dislike something than why I like it. Though I very rarely ‘dislike’ anything, I just get bored.
Really liking a book or story so often means simply enjoying its mood regardless of the author’s skills. That takes me into the wishy-washy territory of, ‘Oh, well, it was just nice.’
In my notebook I put, ‘Gave up page 82. So many adjectives. Characters insufficiently interesting.’
I don’t know what was wrong with p 82 but I don’t think anything gruesome had happened yet.
Sounds super critical and a bit rich coming from someone so keen on Mrs Dalloway. I think basically it wasn’t my cup of tea, otherwise the adjectives would have been fine and the characters failings not mattered.
‘Butcher’s Perfume’ – I could see it was really could but I’m a wimp and I’m not sure I finished it.
Benjamin Myers – I tried The Offing. Historical fiction (which I write), lots of scenery and countryside (fab) and set in beautiful Yorkshire. What wasn’t to like? But I couldn’t get far with it.
I loved ‘How to Paint a Dead Man.’ Also ‘Haweswater’. I find her short stories a hard read – often grisly or too troubling.
I’ll sign up for Sarah Hall, and Graham Macrae Burnet – among others.
Also Mrs Dalloway for whom I seem to have limitless capacity though others may groan đ
 I spotted my MC thinking about something I knew she was going to know, but she didnât actually know yet
That’s the kind of thing I try to see in my own writing though often it’s only after leaving the piece as long as possible that I notice what I’ve done.
My main reason for leaving drafts a long time – apart from life getting in the way – is that it’s my only reliable-ish method to check for nuance in the writing and to add it if it’s not there. I’m an enthusiastic deleter and don’t regret my lost words – early drafts contain a lot of guff. Producing interesting prose is different – growing a paragraph from dull beginnings – and now that I’m more experienced I fall down rabbit holes less often. It would be nice to get my rabbit-hole hours back and extend my life by a month or six.
No worries, Ath. I absolutely agree with you. For me, rules are interesting in a meta way for people’s reactions to them, either for or against. I like to think I’m relaxed but my bonnet bees show my uptightness đ The truth is, I’m fascinated by ‘rules’ and the improvements or failures that can happen when they’re ‘broken’ – though most of the time nothing happens at all.
I overlook my own clunky sentences when there seems to be some bigger or valid point trying to get out, one that I haven’t yet pinned down. The trouble is, it’s easy to get used to odd phrasing or vocabulary when I’ve produced it myself. Perhaps that was happening with the writer in your group. At other times, of course, I just plain miss my own errors.
In my own favour, I have only two bonnet bees, if BBs can be defined as things which make me sigh. The other one is use of unnecessary italics in published books. I find them anxious and rather shouty. It’s OK, I want to tell the author. I’ve noticed what you’re saying. Let’s switch off the slopey stuff and relax.
Having got this off my chest I’m relaxing already.
Ever onwards.
I’ve learned a new word: ambitransitive. Thanks, Ath. It’s a helpful one.
Like you I think probably no rules are broken. I have a small bee in my bonnet about contemporary UK English abandoning commas and that may be why I thought a comma would help.
Your list, Ath – Â avoidance of ambiguity; awareness of how things sound; comprehensibility; and good taste – is a handy measure for effective writing, with good taste being at the writer’s discretion!
I agree with Richard, too, about the author seeming to strip the word count too far. On the whole, plain speech tags are best but I quite like soothed. It’s onomatopoeic. Perhaps I’ll find a use for it somewhere in my own writing but without the soothee’s hair, or ear, or any other body part. It could all get yucky as well as creepy.
The territories discovered through grammar questions are probably limitless đ
Here are my thoughts but I’m very willing to be told I’m wrong.
The sentence would read better with a more appropriate verb and a comma:
âDonât worry,â Jacob soothed, against her hair.
I agree Ath with both your points — I’d prefer ‘said’ for the speech tag, but using a transitive verb isn’t a problem. Aren’t a lot of speech tags transitive? Said, answered, asked…
 I think (big dollop of uncertainty here) that the problem is the lack of the comma. Without the comma, the sense of ‘against’ is ambiguous; it potentially turns the hair into an antagonist:
“âDonât worry,â Jacob comforted against her hair, which was a nasty piece of work, having more opinions than hair should have and wanting Jacob’s sister not to feel comforted at all.”
Is the grammatical problem that ‘against’ in this context is a preposition rather than part of an adverbial? A different preposition reads better:
âDonât worry,â Jacob soothed into her hair.
Though that sounds rather like he’s applying hair conditioner đ
âDonât worry,â Jacob soothed, into her hair.
The Mooring (325 words)
The two sisters were in their twenties. They stood on the kyleâs shore in their Puffa jackets and looked at a small yacht moored to a buoy, hatches closed. The yacht floated as calmly as a swan.
Although the sisters were dressed in similar clothes their personalities were opposites.
âThey were lucky,â said Lena, about the yacht and the people who owned it.
âTheyâd listened to the forecast,â said Harriet.
Lena hated Harrietâ s explaining voice, her practicality which denied something called luck. Luck would be too wishy-washy for Harriet, who was probably going to mention anchor chains or some such.
Lena wanted instead to study the kyleâs far side and the hill rising beyond it. The hill was dappled with heather and sunshine and somewhere above it a curlew called. She saw beauty there, fresh and enchanting.
âThe yacht was moved,â said Harriet, âto a mooring for a heavier boat.â
Lena looked around her own feet where the pebbles were patchy with hurled seaweed. She spent a minute considering this fact. She breathed slowly. Thereâd be nothing wrong with peace-making. After all, a big event had taken place.
âThat boat on the headland,â she said. âI suppose that boat didnât change mooring.â
On dark rocks jutting out along the shore, a yacht lay stranded, itâs hull smashed, a large gap showing the cabin. The table and bunks slanted steeply and only the galley-hob, hanging from its gimbels , was level. It was obvious even to Lena that the mooring hadnât held.
But Harriet had lost interest. âWhat a lovely morning,â she said. âSo magical. So calm.â
âIt usually is after a storm,â said Lena, wondering where her snappy words came from. And then she forgot to see that her tone might have annoyed Harriet. Her mind had become flooded with pragmatism, all romance gone.
In the kyle the slack-tide turned and the small yacht on the mooring began its swing around the buoy.
I’d like to try an entry this month if you set a comp, Knicks. I’ve been away from writing for over two months and am very rusty but, selfishly speaking, it would be a good way to get back into it. I’m not going to be able to manage the annual Den challenge this time around, having spent too much time with all this surgery stuff, so the monthly comp will be something to aim for instead.
One of my instant thoughts was teeth dropping out! But like you, Squidge, I’ll set that one aside. Though perhaps there’s horror story material there…
Country ways are a mixed blessing.
Environmental news is generally so depressing that it’s a relief to have some good news with which to start the week. Seal numbers in the Thames estuary continue to increase – a news piece in the Guardian. If the link below doesn’t work, the item is currently on the website’s front page.
Congratulations @knickylaurelle . A wonderful story, so beautifully written. Thank you @seagreen for the competition.
Two Routes (394 words including title)
Autumn brought knowledge, and he liked that, the gladness that the year had turned up nothing untoward. Evenings with mild friends, some cricket watched and books read. At work, where he crunched data for the health service, an easy retirement waited a few months ahead.
This morning before leaving for the office he checked his emails as usual. There was one from his sister. In plain-faced Calibri she stated, âYour nearly home is up for sale.â
His nearly home. His nearly marriage.
More text. âShall we go and have a look at it? Iâm curious!!â
He breathed hard down his nose.
After work, he rang her. âWhy dâyou want to see the house?â
âI need to down-size, itâs the right price, the garden is tiny and the agents reminded me the stairs are easy.â
Sheâd had both knees replaced and practicalities were important.
âYou serious?â he asked.
âYes. It was always a pretty house.â Sheâd seen it when heâd been intending to buy it. âYou donât mind, do you? Your laid-back attitude.â
The frequent little dig about how he lived. It was a self-compliment for her energy. Even in new widowhood sheâd hardly stopped for breath.
***
The house was indeed pretty in its terrace. Back in the do-up-everything 1980s the estate agents had called it an artisanâs cottage, though what kind of artisan had never been declared. The porch with trellised sides had held a pink rose; the woman he hadnât married was especially keen on both porch and rose. It had been impossible, though, the thought of marriage. A mixture of boring and stressful. What heâd wanted, he remembered now, was to relax.
His sister had collected the key and they let themselves in. The 1980s had disappeared beneath white paintwork, and new cupboards were so sleek that the uneven walls supporting them were occasional shadows. He hardly recognised the layout of rooms.
His sister was looking around and smiling as if already moving in.
âIt seems weird,â he said, âyou wanting this place.â
âIt will suit me fine. And itâs not as if thereâs any trace of you here.â
At work the next day, as he ran statistics for data analysis, he knew that someone else would soon do this job and prepare similar reports. Differences in style were discouraged.
That remark of his sisterâs about trace began to nag.
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I don’t know if anyone has already suggested this but an option to show when someone’s read a post, akin to the ‘like’ option on the Jericho Writers’ Townhouse community, would be useful if it’s possible to implement. Often I don’t have time to reply to someone there and then, or a reply may not be necessary, but it would be good to indicate I’ve seen a comment. It may help encourage idle chat too.
Ah yes, I wondered about the various roles of garnet @seagreen after I’d started looking it up. I’d no idea. It’s very interesting. Geology in general, not just the applied stuff, always feels like a significant gap in my knowledge.
Those rigs have a fascination even for a landlubber like me. The meeting of elements perhaps. At sea but fixed – all those things which I’m sure everyone has pointed out to you over the years đ
That’s interesting @knickylaurelle – makes me enjoy the piece even more. I think it’s hard to write well about one’s own experiences – at least I find it so!
Wow! This is the best collection of stories Iâve read in response to a single competition. Theyâre a joy to read and completely daunting to judge.
What impressed me most, on top of all the individual skills displayed, is that every piece is such a distinct rendition of the authorâs voice. Iâve read most of you before and could recognise you in the various styles. Needless to say, all the stories are a marvellous interpretation of the challenge.
@sandradavies âAbove the Tidelineâ is terrific. What wonderful use of vocabulary and imagery all honed into a really effective succinctness. The whole piece is a great metaphor for painful unhappiness. I had the pleasure of looking up what you meant by Sagittarian in this context. Learning something new is always interesting. Thank you too for enabling me to discover https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poet/thomas-clark/
@athelstone âSandâ is a perfect story with a wonderful magical quality which works so well against an âordinaryâ background. The story is well balanced, well paced and poignant. As with Sandraâs piece I especially enjoyed the language. The plain vocabulary is deceptively simple but the precise technical details (I love technical details in story) give a sense of the narrator and his wider world. Very enjoyable.
@knickylaurelle I loved âGritâ. An account of trauma which is punchy and evocative but never overdone, and showing someone growing stronger. Their trauma and road towards recovery â will full recovery be achieved or will the anger last? â feels as though it might have a mythical or superhuman aspect. The style, setting and unsettling atmosphere remind me of Mark Haddonâs short stories. Again, what wonderful use of vocabulary.
@Squidge â this picture of a beach picnic is a delight! Thatâs exactly how it was: a motherâs care and time, all that effort she put in which never quite solved the problem. I love the tone, the description and the contrast in the excellent last line. Comic and touching. And lovely sentences, perfectly formed. A pleasure to read.
@seagreen I was captivated by âEmergenceâ, your poem or prose poem; I wasnât sure which category it falls into but that didnât matter. The language is strong and delicate at the same time and uses just the right amount of technical detail to set the scene (strong theme of technical language in this competition đ ). I love the evocative imagery of an aging oilrig subjected to changing weather, the threat in the cooling air. Is the rig collapsing â the crushed garnet a reference to debris, maybe a garnet-hinge (I had to look it up but it seemed to fit!)? Or is the presence of garnet protective and the characterâs transformation something safer than an approaching death? The ambiguity I read into the piece fascinated me.Every one of these entries would be a worthy winner. Eventually, because I kept being drawn back to it, I picked âEmergenceâ.
Over to you @seagreen
Hi @Thea , I’m answering your post in a new box – I’m sure that’s not the technical term – so the conversation doesn’t slip into a Den Bermuda Triangle đ
I’m happy with a maximum of 3k words unless it’s for a writer I have a friendship with, in which case a whole MS is absolutely fine and, indeed, a reason to celebrate. With a new or relatively inexperienced writer, I feel 3k is enough to pick up most big issues except for plot structure, and a synopsis can deal with plot though if the writer doesn’t want to send one that’s fine. Three thousand also works OK in terms of time required and reading from a screen. I can miss things on a screen that I’d pick up easily in hard copy, but in truth I don’t want to print off whole novels for people I don’t know and who might not take much or any notice of my comments! I sympathise with @Squidge .
With experienced authors, however, I’ll happily print off an MS, even a very short one, so that I can really get into the writing and think about it. I printed all the stories in the Den winter challenge and was very happy to do so. (I also carefully dispose of them later, doing a mix of hand shredding and putting on the fire.)
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This is in answer to Thea’s post about asking the writer if they have questions. It’s also a general comment.
Knowing whether the writer has specific questions is very helpful. Re genre I’m less confident with those I know little about and would rather leave them to someone else. Womenâs commercial fiction or literary fiction, though the latter in particular is a bed of subjectivity, are familiar territory, as is realist fiction in general. But fantasy, for instance. I haven’t read enough. And very long novels: it’s generally only first chapters I look at any case but with drafts of 200k words plus, such a large structure is too foreign to me. Police procedurals: if a PP isnât working, I wouldn’t have much sense of what’s amiss unless it was generic problems such as showing vs telling or character development.
One week left for the monthly competition!
Here are the requirements:
The other day I discovered that sabulous means sandy or gritty. For this monthâs competition please use sand and/or grit as a prompt for a piece of fiction or non-fiction, word range 100 â 500. You can use the word sabulous itself if you wish but you donât have to.
Be literal at least some of the time. If a problem is figuratively gritty, let it somehow have actual particles too.
Deadline is midnight on Sunday 31st July.
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