@sandradavies
Active 4 days, 1 hour agoForum Replies Created
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@Athelstone, @JaneShuff, @GippsGirl re posting Step so grave, if I’ve interpreted the Royal Mail site right (and often I don’t) it’ll cost £7.65 to send to France, £3 for the UK, plus, say 75p for P&P so, Jane, if you have a UK address that’ll still be cheaper than Blurb. (My profit per book is 78p, not £1.30 – maths never my strong point!- so I can’t go any cheaper)
Thanks Robyn, I’ll gladly sign and send you one but hopefully it’ll save you money rather than reward me because Blurb charge an embarrassing (to me) £6.99 p&p for a single book. I’m profiting by ~£1.30 per book, which is fine because I’m not after making money, just getting it out to those friends who have expressed an interest (and much prefer them to have a ‘proper’ book. Be a few days yet though.
Jane, I’d be delighted to sign and send you one, how much would be the £7.95 + p&p. I’ve not yet got the order back and would need to go to the post office to find out what it costs. Will let you know.
Shame … I’ll check out postage costs. Or better still, hope to arrange a meet up; it’s been far too long.
I’ve not booked for York but depending on dates could certainly deliver to anyone interested – good idea, in fact, but we’re in Orkney 5-14th …
Good heavens, Raine – what a compliment, especially in view of the strength of the rest; I certainly was torn between at least three to name as my favourite. Thank you, indeed. And you can most certainly read the rest, as soon as it’s done. (Currently ‘resting’ after finishing a first draft last week, and already knowing things need changing).
I’m away from home at the moment but will use journey time to think up an equally worthy challenge for the next couple of months.
Well done, Jules and thanks for the horse breed check list, correcting my belief that a destrier was a sort of fast carthorse. I’m a big fan of Dorothy Dunnett so this will be added to my list.
In general,Squidge, although I know exactly what you mean, I don’t. Partly because a lot of the time I am writing ‘badly’ to start with, so much needs to be improved (and the correct word substituted for the one I couldn’t remember – I’m grateful for Emma D’s suggestion of putting then in [ ] so as to later find.
At the moment, writing a unplotted murder, for which I know the perpetrator’s identity but need to keep it hidden from a number of people, I’m more struggling with adding clues and misdirection and working out exactly when to reveal what.
‘Specific questions’? – yes indeed, particularly in the light of the current one – Raine’s saying “It’ll be judged purely on ‘how much do I want to read on’” (which strikes me as a genius note to strike when setting a competition.) Of those posted so far I would say there are those which I am unlikely to pursue, simply because they are not the genre I choose. Nothing whatsoever to do with quality. Others I would read on, without a doubt, and one or two I would ask a question of about ‘where next (for example..
Entirely agree with Knicks and Jane. If critique is wanted it should be specifically asked for; where someone believes it would be helpful, a pm is the best place to start. For myself, comp entries are often little more than the flexing of writing muscles.
At the risk of sounding ageist, is it not the case that a high(ish) percentage of those doing degrees/Masters are quite young, and are unlikely to yet have the confidence/experience to ignore publishers et al?
To some extent (not that I’ve done any really full-on writing courses, just SE, some reading and building on experience) I do notice that my very early writing has a freshness of approach that more recent, more self-conscious writing does not.
And I do cheer when I come across writers such as Eimear McBride and Eley Williams (both James Tait Black short-listers) who are totally original.
Drink with a dead man – and apologies, 410 words
Innocuous in colour as a Rich Tea biscuit, the envelope was angled so as to fit into the grey metal cell of the Post Restante box. Illuminated by the single bare bulb in the narrow passage between front and rear of the shop, the vertical/horizontal of the letter’s shadow made of it a hitman, waiting with casual menace on an intended target. Kit Talamantes, thumb and first finger of his right hand gripping the key with which he had unlocked and pulled open the battered grey metal door, found himself reluctant to take hold of it.
Behind him, an eruption of laughter. Glancing back he saw it came from what, in rural Spain, passed for a queue; its collective amusement directed at a sun-wrinkled seventy-year old, whose purchase of stamps had drawn bantered accusations of a secret lover. Her enjoyment of the attention made a mockery of his fears; he reached in, grasped the letter and twitched it out, dismissing as overly dramatic the fingertip sensation of a sting.
Cheap, flimsy, and lightweight enough to hold the possibility of emptiness. Handwriting unknown; his name correctly spelled. Airmail sticker, British stamps, postmark indecipherable.
He made his way out of the shop. Debated whether or not to open it immediately, then decided coffee – and sitting down – might be a wiser … precaution?
Across the square, he chose a table which offered privacy. Slid a finger into the gap at the top corner of the envelope, tugged gently outward, slitting it, jaggedly, along the fold, and looked inside.It was not empty. Not quite.
Someone had gone to the trouble of cutting a single notification from a column of an English newspaper. Had cut it in such a way as to leave it attached to the blank outer margin and the page header. Had neatly folded the strip, concertina-style, before putting it into an envelope and posting it to him. The paper was last Saturday’s Northern Echo. The notification of a wedding, due to take place in ten days time.
He knew the groom
He knew the bride.
He knew they could not marry.
With the exception of one woman no-one else on this earth should have known this. In any case, neither she, nor anyone else, would connect him, the man named on the envelope, the man he was, here and now with the man he had been then.Because everyone from then, her included, knew he died. Eight years ago.
Just checked with Steve and apparently an 18 year old is limited to bikes of no more than 125 cc – nippy enough to weave through London traffic, but max speed of ~60mph (and not as nippy as the twist’n’go scooters beloved by street thieves) Once he’s 19 and had has 2 years experience he can go larger.
Happy to answer any other questions on the subject.Kate, it also crossed my mind, on first reading, that Alex would’ve referred to his bike by make: ‘his Ducati 500 Hornet’ (or something – I made that up). If you want some better info than I have about modern bikes I can find out, but need to know how old he is – there might be rules about what cc a bike for what age.
Then ‘mate’ worked, don’t fret – the trouble with reading to critique is that one tries too hard and focuses on unnecessaries.
I like this a LOT Kate and defnitely want to read on. One of the intriguing things for me (don’t know if it’s intentional, presume so) is that, despite the ‘mate’ I don’t 100% know what sex the narrator is at this point – either woukd be of interest.
I entirely agree with Bella’s tweaks, the following are my own reactions and are to be ignored at will
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“But I mustn’t scan the garden for shadows within the darkness” seems a bit … poetic? “mustn’t look like I’m looking” seems more natural to me.Not sure you can ‘kick the engine into life’ to start and turn off with a key ignition.
“The road empty in both directions, I moved off” (Sorry – I don’t like re-writing but can’t explain – again, suggestion)
As an aside, “leaning forwards” doesn’t quite work; but you can leaning to steer, and grip tank with knees. ‘Slaloming’ between cars (not sure about other bikes. My bike experience is mostly as a pillion on an old bike, but I have been pillion on a much faster one, hurtling down Mont Ventoux).
Like the conjunction of ‘barbed wire’ and ‘belly’ and some other cracking descriptions.
Helmets have plastic visors – definitely no glass!
Woul likely also wear gloves and so take helmet off, stuff gloves inside and hold by the straps or bottom frame ove forearm.As I said, a lot of excellent acrion and set up for much more to come.
