Having finished a short novel especially for my daughter, I am now back on track to write another novel for general consumption. Working title is MEG'S JOURNEY. I'm aiming to write something different from before, women's literary fiction. By this I mean the story will revolve around Meg who re-evaluates her life after she meets strangers on a train before Christmas. Slightly inspired by Charles Dickens, Christmas Carol. I give below the first paragraph. Let me know what you think. (may have to press 'read more' button)
SEASON OF GOODWILL
Why couldn't they put things back in their proper place, Meg muttered, looking round the shop. It wasn't the clothing, so much, as the knick-knacks. All those little bits of jewellery, small pottery vases, children's board books, stencilled plates, coloured pencils: if a customer asked for something it would be impossible to find; then they'd lose money. That would get back to head office. Everyone would think she was a bad manager because she was a volunteer. Then there'd be a hullabaloo about the way charity shops are run. The press would blow it up out of all proportion. It was too late now. They'd gone home. It wasn't as if this was the first time. She was forever reminding them, if the truth be told. She'd have to do it herself, again, and lock up late. She sighed, shook her head. Probably thought she was an old nag.
May have to press 'read more button' to see entire poem.
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH
Henry was a marauder
Striding out with speed and strength
Sweeping across moors and plains
Storming over seas and sands.
Energised, determined, invincible
With power feared by man and beast,
He terrified with his gutsy onslaught
His audacious race across the Isles.
Henry was a tyrant
Intimidating reluctant audiences
With his roaring battle cry.
Some shielded ears, some covered heads,
Some fled to escape his booming gusts.
Mortals shivered, trembled, froze
Sought shelter as his formidable force
Whipped up bitter brawls,
Savage strikes, lethal blows.
Always he galloped swiftly on
Through thickets, woods and forests
Conquering hills and valleys.
Stirring the flow of calm waters.
No longer flying high
Above his cowering subjects.
His turbulent era now ended.
He rests with infamous ancestors
Abigail, Eva, Desmond and Frank
Barney, Clodagh and Gertrude
All Monarchs of destruction,
Cruel sovereigns of the sky
(Henry was the eighth named storm
to hit the UK at the start of February, 2016)
Still writing regularly but jumping from one thing to another. Have slightly updated a community 15 minute play - more a pantomime. This is something that may be performed locally next summer.
Have also written two more poems. I am writing poems at regular intervals ready for another quirky poetry book. I watched a TV programme on lonliness and that inspired one of them. The other is in readiness for Valentine's Day on February 14.
My almost finished novel: THE MAN NEXT DOOR has also had my attention. My writing group friends gave several useful comments, so the first chapters have been tightened up. Always good to have different points of view. I always seek comment from several people before I offer a book for sale. By the time books go on my website for purchase, they have had a lot of attention.
As for POCKET MONEY. I have completed the first draft and am now editing. Writing the initial story is always just the first step.
Thanks for reading my blog. More soon.