Google "Glimmer Poo" and follow links until...
A story beginning, "If I had to fuck a bear, I'd choose Paddington"
A story ending, "If I had to fucj=k a bear again, I'd choose Paddington."
or use
A terrible beauty is born
We sat together one summer's end
The TV in another room
Around me the images of thirty years
You and I, and her. We talked of poetry
If I became a broken man
Let's enumerate old disputes
Murmur names, names, names
I have met them at close of day
A message arrives: PING!
I have seen the lights go out
Before the world was made, there had been a run on hope.
Three women, that'll do
Love like a cold night in November
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Prompts at 20:00 Thursday
A story beginning, “You realise I will lie to you?”
A story ending “On my mother’s grave…”
Or Google “Toffee Penis” and follow links until something on the web prompts you to write a story
When I have those fears that I will cease to be
Extra Strong
Gary's at the match, I'll need to be
Whoever guesses, thinks or dreams he knows
NAIL
Methodical, wiping spit, a little sun cream
PIN
My life has waited in corners
Hey bud, I could commentate
There’s a certain slant of light
Potatoes
Sometimes you only hear about it second-hand, or fifth
April 19th, Driving
There are things we need and hate and need to hate
Fires & Human Behaviour
The burn after shaving
Catching Life by the throat
Coming this way on a different line
Why we have a navel
Mr Dickory and Jennifer Dock
Bunsen
Here, take my picture
Catch a falling star
Teach me to hear the mermaids singing
A catastrophe of charlatans
I love Sally Smith
One morning, I saw these three
You say Tomato
McDonalds, burning flesh upon the air
The difference between a grandson and a cactus
A story ending “On my mother’s grave…”
Or Google “Toffee Penis” and follow links until something on the web prompts you to write a story
When I have those fears that I will cease to be
Extra Strong
Gary's at the match, I'll need to be
Whoever guesses, thinks or dreams he knows
NAIL
Methodical, wiping spit, a little sun cream
PIN
My life has waited in corners
Hey bud, I could commentate
There’s a certain slant of light
Potatoes
Sometimes you only hear about it second-hand, or fifth
April 19th, Driving
There are things we need and hate and need to hate
Fires & Human Behaviour
The burn after shaving
Catching Life by the throat
Coming this way on a different line
Why we have a navel
Mr Dickory and Jennifer Dock
Bunsen
Here, take my picture
Catch a falling star
Teach me to hear the mermaids singing
A catastrophe of charlatans
I love Sally Smith
One morning, I saw these three
You say Tomato
McDonalds, burning flesh upon the air
The difference between a grandson and a cactus
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Calling all Ex-BootCampers and Gridders
I have a Facebook presence now as:
Alex Boot Camp Keegan
and I've set up a group:
Boot Camp Keegan & Gridders Alumini
(sorry about the spelling)
We are trying to link all those misbegotten souls who were with us in the early days (eg Mimi Carmen, Geri Borcz, Suzanne Proulx, Benjamin Graber) and all those who were with us when we were in MOVING PEN, then those who survived the SCRAWL WARS, those who were with us when we had the Yahoo Gridders presence, those in Boot Camp (not on Yuku) and lastly those in TLC at Writers Dock
Join us, link to me as a friend in Facebook and I'll invite you into the group
Alex
Alex Boot Camp Keegan
and I've set up a group:
Boot Camp Keegan & Gridders Alumini
(sorry about the spelling)
We are trying to link all those misbegotten souls who were with us in the early days (eg Mimi Carmen, Geri Borcz, Suzanne Proulx, Benjamin Graber) and all those who were with us when we were in MOVING PEN, then those who survived the SCRAWL WARS, those who were with us when we had the Yahoo Gridders presence, those in Boot Camp (not on Yuku) and lastly those in TLC at Writers Dock
Join us, link to me as a friend in Facebook and I'll invite you into the group
Alex
Monday, November 03, 2008
CiN Details
Children in Need 2008
For the last three years we've held Flash Blasts for Children in Need (CiN) and these have raised well over £10,000 for the charity.
The format is simple. We start at 1800 Hours on the Thursday and write non-stop until midnight Friday.
Naturally, only about half-a-dozen hardy souls manage the thirty hours, but the idea is to have SOMEONE writing at all times. Many write 1800-2400 both days, and a bit in the day on the Friday.
We raise money in two ways.
First there's an entry fee of £30.
This breaks down into
£10 for prizes (all the prize fund is paid out)
£10 for CiN
£10 for a copy of the anthology (may be 2 copies)
SECOND, individuals collect sponsorship for their writing over the thirty hours. They deal with this separately but we total the amounts
All the stories/flashes/poems arrive anonymously and after the Blast we select the best XX for an independent judge to choose the 1-2-3-4-5
PS I disqualify my stuff from the competition
An anthology is produced of the best stuff but we try to include at least one piece from each participant. Obviously sales of the anthology (£10) will raise further monies for CiN
With a large organisation like Writers Dock we could easily get 100 participants, and that £10,000 raised could like like chicken-feed.
I should say, for those who have never tried "blasting" the results can be incredible. Many first prizes have evolved from CiN Blast work
So sign up now
Next post will show the list of people (pseudonyms are OK) but we would like their place of residence
eg
04 Aristo Belgium
05 Tommo Northern Ireland
For the last three years we've held Flash Blasts for Children in Need (CiN) and these have raised well over £10,000 for the charity.
The format is simple. We start at 1800 Hours on the Thursday and write non-stop until midnight Friday.
Naturally, only about half-a-dozen hardy souls manage the thirty hours, but the idea is to have SOMEONE writing at all times. Many write 1800-2400 both days, and a bit in the day on the Friday.
We raise money in two ways.
First there's an entry fee of £30.
This breaks down into
£10 for prizes (all the prize fund is paid out)
£10 for CiN
£10 for a copy of the anthology (may be 2 copies)
SECOND, individuals collect sponsorship for their writing over the thirty hours. They deal with this separately but we total the amounts
All the stories/flashes/poems arrive anonymously and after the Blast we select the best XX for an independent judge to choose the 1-2-3-4-5
PS I disqualify my stuff from the competition
An anthology is produced of the best stuff but we try to include at least one piece from each participant. Obviously sales of the anthology (£10) will raise further monies for CiN
With a large organisation like Writers Dock we could easily get 100 participants, and that £10,000 raised could like like chicken-feed.
I should say, for those who have never tried "blasting" the results can be incredible. Many first prizes have evolved from CiN Blast work
So sign up now
Next post will show the list of people (pseudonyms are OK) but we would like their place of residence
eg
04 Aristo Belgium
05 Tommo Northern Ireland
Children in Need 2008 (CLICK HERE)
I've been sick for two weeks so this is late but our charity fund-raiser for kids will take place again this year.
For those interested in face-to-face meetings and mutual support I'm opening up the Chapel in North Wales to all-comers
For those interested in face-to-face meetings and mutual support I'm opening up the Chapel in North Wales to all-comers
Friday, October 31, 2008
The Chapel
We stopped for a few days in the Chapel this week, officially a holiday (ha-ha)
All that's left to do now is clean and polish the terracotta floors and put up a few more bookshelves.
There will be music and books in every room and I'm in the process of transporting more than a thousand books into the place, mostly good literature, plenty of craft books etc
There are four computers there, broadband, dining for twelve
Three showers, three loos, a bathroom and non-stop piping hot water
There's Sky HD-TV with all the extra channels, and an antique bar-billiards table.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Upstair Bedrooms
There are two bunk bedrooms upstairs.
I was about to post pictures but blogger won't play.
Watch this space.
I was about to post pictures but blogger won't play.
Watch this space.
More on the Chapel
The chapel's downstairs has three large bedrooms, a bathroom and loo, separate shower-room/toilet, and opposite, two more showers, a loo and a utility-room.
The double bedroom above is the smallest. It's hard to do justice. Even with a 17mm lens I can't get a full shot! The walls are about 2-3 feet thick (and then we had to insulate them to modern standards!) so there are gorgeous mahogany cill that have about the same square-footage as my first flat. (Plenty of scope for planting your books!
Above is the seating area of Bedroom 2, There's enough room for a full-size leather sofa (a sofa-bed) so people can "escape to their room". Only formally sleeping two, this room can sleep four (Mum and Dad can have the kids in there if they want to, or two singles can have a double each...)
And there's a computer, of course.
That's the second double. And very comfy it is too!
Chapel Update
The chapel in Wales moves ever closer to completion. This week sees the finish of the cosmetics, painting skirting boards etc and next week we have the stair banister fitted and then the stair-carpet. One thing holds up completion now, and that's exhaust fans in the bathrooms (don't ask me!)
Currently there are two straightforward double-bedrooms, and three bunkrooms sleeping a total of 13, but additionally there are five sofa beds. We did that because we never know what combination of singles or couples will turn up!
The table seats twelve.
The chapel's situation is great. The village is peaceful and sits close to the foot of Cader Idris but on the coast. There's a fully operational railway line that goes North to fairbourne, Barmouth, Harlech, Portmerion, Portmadoc, Criccieth and Pillwelli.
Travel South for Twyn, Aberdovey, Macynlleth where you change for Aberystwyth and Shrewsbury.
We've built this to live-in long term but while we can't it's a fantastic writers' retreat and I place where whole groups can stop. I've started shifting in hundreds (hundreds!) of Craft and How-to books, short-story collections, many, many lit-mags, biographies and autobiographies of writers, and of course, some good literature.
There is telephone and broadband there, at least four computers, a printer.
What I really hope, though, is to run writing courses there, the BC way. We had great success running course in Berkshire at Kingfisher Barn but that was always a squeeze. Here is perfect.
Nearest Cafe Five Yards.
Nearest Evening Bistro. Five Yards.
Nearest Post Office. Five Yards
Nearest Shop. Twenty Yards.
Nearest Pub. Seventy Yards
Nearest Railway Station. 500 yards
Mountains? Yes!
The Sea? Yes!
Monday Prompts
It is eighteen years to the day
In lamb fields, on dotted slopes
I see a playground, an ant-scatter of children
How do we know we aren't already dead?
Oh I have danced the sky as feathers
The life that I have is all that I have
The Farmer's Bride
There was a steady wind and the sky was pale
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the leaning trees
This is my country!
It must have been too cold for him, his soul gave out
Love's dances, Love's retreats, advances
And I was green and carefree, lying in soft fields
He with footstep heavy, her with sunny hair
When I was thirteen or so. green
But one by one we must move on, through the valley of pain
In lamb fields, on dotted slopes
I see a playground, an ant-scatter of children
How do we know we aren't already dead?
Oh I have danced the sky as feathers
The life that I have is all that I have
The Farmer's Bride
There was a steady wind and the sky was pale
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the leaning trees
This is my country!
It must have been too cold for him, his soul gave out
Love's dances, Love's retreats, advances
And I was green and carefree, lying in soft fields
He with footstep heavy, her with sunny hair
When I was thirteen or so. green
But one by one we must move on, through the valley of pain
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Latest on Capel Bethel
Capel Bethel, Llwyngwril (between Dolgellau and Tywyn) gets ever closer to being finished.
I am looking forward to running weekend and week-long course there and already the place is stocking up with literature!
Here are some pikkies
I am looking forward to running weekend and week-long course there and already the place is stocking up with literature!
Here are some pikkies
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Sunday Lunchtime Prompts
Without a hero
The sound of wind at night
An awful stillness, heat
She was good at faces
You could shoot anything you wanted, for a price
Strange weather
There's a man in the house
Barcelona
This is the first thing I noticed
So when did it all start?
Gigantic, fantastic women
We could go to Alaska?
It's not that I don't like you
There's a man I know, talks only of Jesus
Sitting on the Dock of the Bay
Two strangers on the bus, Grandma
Alone
Afterwards they were black from head to toe
Voices in the dark
Filler
On his knees, scrubbing in tiny circles
A wild justice
My mother and father are dead, or in Orlando
Boneshaker
On the other hand, not
I am like a sleepy fish
The sound of wind at night
An awful stillness, heat
She was good at faces
You could shoot anything you wanted, for a price
Strange weather
There's a man in the house
Barcelona
This is the first thing I noticed
So when did it all start?
Gigantic, fantastic women
We could go to Alaska?
It's not that I don't like you
There's a man I know, talks only of Jesus
Sitting on the Dock of the Bay
Two strangers on the bus, Grandma
Alone
Afterwards they were black from head to toe
Voices in the dark
Filler
On his knees, scrubbing in tiny circles
A wild justice
My mother and father are dead, or in Orlando
Boneshaker
On the other hand, not
I am like a sleepy fish
Friday, September 05, 2008
Friday Prompts
A small bird is taken by a hawk
It is a cold evening
RICE
An old man sits quietly netting
Porthcawl
A child looks from a train
He puts his hand to his face, unbelieving
SAGO
The air smells of fish
The sea is heavy, swelling
It is too dark
The road that used to go there refuses now
The headscarved women
History is bunk
You have to understand the fish
Only the poor can afford lots of children
CREAM
Does night change to day?
Stealing milk from the urn, scooping cream
Uncle Jonjo
For some reason, there are too many wheelbarrows
CARD
I want a dream kitchen, a kitchen to dream in
I eat fish we caught
We have too many books
No Matter What
Jennifer Eccles' Fat Sister
SALT
Call me and I will describe it.
It is a cold evening
RICE
An old man sits quietly netting
Porthcawl
A child looks from a train
He puts his hand to his face, unbelieving
SAGO
The air smells of fish
The sea is heavy, swelling
It is too dark
The road that used to go there refuses now
The headscarved women
History is bunk
You have to understand the fish
Only the poor can afford lots of children
CREAM
Does night change to day?
Stealing milk from the urn, scooping cream
Uncle Jonjo
For some reason, there are too many wheelbarrows
CARD
I want a dream kitchen, a kitchen to dream in
I eat fish we caught
We have too many books
No Matter What
Jennifer Eccles' Fat Sister
SALT
Call me and I will describe it.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Thursday Prompts
His Mam loves him to bits
Blue Lagoon
At my door is a square of yellow corn
Davies the Doom has burned the chapel down
What city is this?
My father and my mother and my brother and my sister
Let's burn some books
The wink and nudge of secrets in the pub
It starts to feel like Ireland
I'd rather not be American
Piano Man
Last night I dreamt I ate wire
Why do some fat men look strong, some fat?
Resonant Frequency
Stone, Stone, Water, Wind
I see people in old photographs
Sawdust
Suddenly we are lost
If you time it right, you can get there at low tide
A place without certainty
He used to be safety officer on the Titanic
You want ice with that?
What are we waiting for?
A meteor lands tonight, we all must die
May I borrow your country?
I think I'll play monopoly, or charades
How much I love my daughter
Moon
The smell of an old railway station
My mother
Waiters on roller-skates, meals on wires overhead
Blue Lagoon
At my door is a square of yellow corn
Davies the Doom has burned the chapel down
What city is this?
My father and my mother and my brother and my sister
Let's burn some books
The wink and nudge of secrets in the pub
It starts to feel like Ireland
I'd rather not be American
Piano Man
Last night I dreamt I ate wire
Why do some fat men look strong, some fat?
Resonant Frequency
Stone, Stone, Water, Wind
I see people in old photographs
Sawdust
Suddenly we are lost
If you time it right, you can get there at low tide
A place without certainty
He used to be safety officer on the Titanic
You want ice with that?
What are we waiting for?
A meteor lands tonight, we all must die
May I borrow your country?
I think I'll play monopoly, or charades
How much I love my daughter
Moon
The smell of an old railway station
My mother
Waiters on roller-skates, meals on wires overhead
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Wednesday Prompts
I turned on the radio and water came out
Hatches, Matches & Dispatches
Thirteen ways to look at it
Because it dissolves
The electrician is out of contact
Riding the Yellow Trolley Car
You were being silly
He disappeared in the dead of winter
I sit in a dive on 52nd St
Knowing each other too well to talk
Out of the blue I remember. My father playing football
The brooks were frozen, airports closed
An island five miles inland
DECAY
They are living off their reputation but it cannot last
Catch 18, and it's going to get worse
That's a lovely offer, but
You were right my dear, even when you were mad
Mayfly
The best of times, the shittiest of times
If I grow up, I'm going to be a boy
The room was suddenly rich with soft light
Whacky Posters
Go tell it on the fucking mountain
TIN
Building new homes at Buschenwald
TACK
Time was away and somewhere else
I have a desert but no camel
The waiter does not come
I asked my son when was he getting married. In the afternoon, he said.
The day needs a plaster, a bandage
I stand for old values. Give the black man a fair crack of the whip
I dream of being loved by a chorus-girl
My guru says
I am old and I have too may layers of paint
There was a camp here
Hatches, Matches & Dispatches
Thirteen ways to look at it
Because it dissolves
The electrician is out of contact
Riding the Yellow Trolley Car
You were being silly
He disappeared in the dead of winter
I sit in a dive on 52nd St
Knowing each other too well to talk
Out of the blue I remember. My father playing football
The brooks were frozen, airports closed
An island five miles inland
DECAY
They are living off their reputation but it cannot last
Catch 18, and it's going to get worse
That's a lovely offer, but
You were right my dear, even when you were mad
Mayfly
The best of times, the shittiest of times
If I grow up, I'm going to be a boy
The room was suddenly rich with soft light
Whacky Posters
Go tell it on the fucking mountain
TIN
Building new homes at Buschenwald
TACK
Time was away and somewhere else
I have a desert but no camel
The waiter does not come
I asked my son when was he getting married. In the afternoon, he said.
The day needs a plaster, a bandage
I stand for old values. Give the black man a fair crack of the whip
I dream of being loved by a chorus-girl
My guru says
I am old and I have too may layers of paint
There was a camp here
Sunday, August 31, 2008
SUNDAY PROMPTS
Tell us the story about the little boots
DONKEY
When Saturdays were only for football
Torn Envelope
And the pit-heads baths is a supermarket now
Death by Sunbed
There was a picture made of flowers
Dogs
He worked in the steelworks
How you can push, push with your anger
Tonight, January fog
How much that dies with them
A mother moves away to birth her lamb
Let the number be learned
In a few month's time I will stop and linger
Old men like monkeys
February Streets
In clear snow like laughter
I have known too many of the murdered
BELL
Mrs Blenkinsop keeps a tiger in her cellar
DISH
You wouldn't know the place now
EAR
Old, so old, and short of wind
We went on holiday to London with Mam
We who wait
The old sad things have been forgotten
When old age came he stood up and kicked it
On the wrist, a watch
DONKEY
When Saturdays were only for football
Torn Envelope
And the pit-heads baths is a supermarket now
Death by Sunbed
There was a picture made of flowers
Dogs
He worked in the steelworks
How you can push, push with your anger
Tonight, January fog
How much that dies with them
A mother moves away to birth her lamb
Let the number be learned
In a few month's time I will stop and linger
Old men like monkeys
February Streets
In clear snow like laughter
I have known too many of the murdered
BELL
Mrs Blenkinsop keeps a tiger in her cellar
DISH
You wouldn't know the place now
EAR
Old, so old, and short of wind
We went on holiday to London with Mam
We who wait
The old sad things have been forgotten
When old age came he stood up and kicked it
On the wrist, a watch
Saturday, August 30, 2008
SATURDAY NIGHT PROMPTS
It was love at first sight
Mullet
All day it has rained
I am amused
Love drips and gathers
Knobkerry
Dominoes, Woodbines, Senior Service
Spangles
A most curious device
TRICK
Raking through the ashes
BAR
I have learned to dream with the sound off
Sailors Killed it
I think we need to say goodbye
It takes sixpences
With my pockets full of money
BOMB
Cinder-fucking-rella
M-T-G-G
You roll away and show me your sullen back
The Loch Ness Mobster
I was young and easy then
The window is filthy
Shall I get drunk or eat a piece of cake?
OLOLAQICI82QB4IP
Time ate my love and farted, then you departed
Snakeskin
Recognizing a red kite
Put a shilling in the gas, your head in the oven
Last night I met my father
I am preoccupied
Words are my instruments but not my servants
The Lover & Her Killer
A house with bleached-white walls
How to Kill 101
Mullet
All day it has rained
I am amused
Love drips and gathers
Knobkerry
Dominoes, Woodbines, Senior Service
Spangles
A most curious device
TRICK
Raking through the ashes
BAR
I have learned to dream with the sound off
Sailors Killed it
I think we need to say goodbye
It takes sixpences
With my pockets full of money
BOMB
Cinder-fucking-rella
M-T-G-G
You roll away and show me your sullen back
The Loch Ness Mobster
I was young and easy then
The window is filthy
Shall I get drunk or eat a piece of cake?
OLOLAQICI82QB4IP
Time ate my love and farted, then you departed
Snakeskin
Recognizing a red kite
Put a shilling in the gas, your head in the oven
Last night I met my father
I am preoccupied
Words are my instruments but not my servants
The Lover & Her Killer
A house with bleached-white walls
How to Kill 101
Saturday Prompts
Barely a twelve month after
Tonto
Three old shops, all in the name Jones
Do not ask, "What is it?"
FOLD
Violence upon the roads
Two dark tractors, pausing
A pale light
sawdust bars, the sounds of angry men
BUZZ
A lovely piece of slate
There is a girl standing there
Our life is changed: their coming our beginning
Prophet
It was a soft October night, summer at last
His quick body
You can cast out past the fish
The sun used to shine, remember?
Leave, then
We heard a distant tapping on the road
A sunrise like military best
Smudge
She slipped away to die quietly
ITCH
I love this, as some day a child will love it
I have mislaid the key
For I have known them all already
Only an avenue, dark and nameless
I see the image of a naked man
We did not dare go near them
The entrance is blocked by brambles
Late in the summer the strange horses came
Tonto
Three old shops, all in the name Jones
Do not ask, "What is it?"
FOLD
Violence upon the roads
Two dark tractors, pausing
A pale light
sawdust bars, the sounds of angry men
BUZZ
A lovely piece of slate
There is a girl standing there
Our life is changed: their coming our beginning
Prophet
It was a soft October night, summer at last
His quick body
You can cast out past the fish
The sun used to shine, remember?
Leave, then
We heard a distant tapping on the road
A sunrise like military best
Smudge
She slipped away to die quietly
ITCH
I love this, as some day a child will love it
I have mislaid the key
For I have known them all already
Only an avenue, dark and nameless
I see the image of a naked man
We did not dare go near them
The entrance is blocked by brambles
Late in the summer the strange horses came
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday Prompts
I told my son about my father
There's water still in the bath
Majestic
The pub quiz: it's all about winning
Bridge
Why not be a Brain-Surgeon?
Kite Surfing 101
There's a problem at the bridge
Trying to fix a light
Big Boy
Sudoku for the damned
The boys done well
A handy electrical gadget
A quarter ton of lego
The sound of cars passing in the wet
Why she doesn't phone
Whisky without the e
In the not too distant future, if all my dreams come true
This is a stupid way to die
With sawdust, string and patches
From the hill I saw a line of snaking tenements
Bush Meat
Under an awning, talking about nothing; rain
Peonies
Is surviving suicide a success or failure?
Two rooms done and the doors closed
A three-legged hippo
It may be pretty, but is it appropriate?
Holes
Arctic elephants are the same as African ones. But colder.
Treasure Island
There's water still in the bath
Majestic
The pub quiz: it's all about winning
Bridge
Why not be a Brain-Surgeon?
Kite Surfing 101
There's a problem at the bridge
Trying to fix a light
Big Boy
Sudoku for the damned
The boys done well
A handy electrical gadget
A quarter ton of lego
The sound of cars passing in the wet
Why she doesn't phone
Whisky without the e
In the not too distant future, if all my dreams come true
This is a stupid way to die
With sawdust, string and patches
From the hill I saw a line of snaking tenements
Bush Meat
Under an awning, talking about nothing; rain
Peonies
Is surviving suicide a success or failure?
Two rooms done and the doors closed
A three-legged hippo
It may be pretty, but is it appropriate?
Holes
Arctic elephants are the same as African ones. But colder.
Treasure Island
Monday, August 25, 2008
Bank Holiday Prompts
Pictures of old London
Undercoat
Discovered by a monk
Futurama
It torments me, this injustice
Crayon
She is big and plump and happy
If you can keep your head
Refreshed every two minutes
Shifting the furniture
Glasses, but naff
Tea, biscuits, a rest
The sound of bickering
I need to be very drunk
16:16
Oh for a muse of fire
What bells are these that toll?
Fokkers!
Do NOT close the cupboard
Anyone can use them
I wondered lonely, under a cloud
City of Angels
The thing I like is overcoming
Another Monday!
Muscle for the wing
Just at that moment, Carol came in the back door
He lifted a bowl of nuts and offered them
Deep Blue Goodbye
The Edge of Reason
I’ve come for a payment on the bed
Why the vacuum cleaner makes me angry
Out of the Sun
What I’m saying is I’m a drunk, not an alcoholic
Electric Polisher
An amazing ending
Mother, mother, where did you go?
I try not to see my sister too often
He was a sort of commando
A thousand blessings, Effendi
I claim death
The difference between clams and mussels
The café is shut.
Undercoat
Discovered by a monk
Futurama
It torments me, this injustice
Crayon
She is big and plump and happy
If you can keep your head
Refreshed every two minutes
Shifting the furniture
Glasses, but naff
Tea, biscuits, a rest
The sound of bickering
I need to be very drunk
16:16
Oh for a muse of fire
What bells are these that toll?
Fokkers!
Do NOT close the cupboard
Anyone can use them
I wondered lonely, under a cloud
City of Angels
The thing I like is overcoming
Another Monday!
Muscle for the wing
Just at that moment, Carol came in the back door
He lifted a bowl of nuts and offered them
Deep Blue Goodbye
The Edge of Reason
I’ve come for a payment on the bed
Why the vacuum cleaner makes me angry
Out of the Sun
What I’m saying is I’m a drunk, not an alcoholic
Electric Polisher
An amazing ending
Mother, mother, where did you go?
I try not to see my sister too often
He was a sort of commando
A thousand blessings, Effendi
I claim death
The difference between clams and mussels
The café is shut.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
More Prompts
I've been away a few days, but here:
When all this is over, I shall give them the finger
The weakening eye of day
I saw an x-ray of a baby
AXE
Unwearied still, lover after lover
Not even in my thoughts
I did not think death could undo so much
DANDELION
She is beautiful. I dream about her.
The rain flies down the street, flaps outside our door
BLOOD TEST
All the sun long it was running
Appointment in Basingstoke
The stove’s heat mottling her legs
Moving the books
Her dead body wears the smile of accomplishment
I know where you are
Thinking of an old lover makes it hard
JUG
We renounce everything except the self
Uzi Wedding
Her floured hands at the baking board
Show me the kitchen, the knives
Three thousand years ago they didn’t give a fuck
GUN
I would like to be terminally ill
Red and yellow, silver-back, half-imagined things
16 GIG
I kept my wife’s heart in a canary’s cage
DUFFY’S TRICK
I’m going to sail round the world
I cannot speak to you
Horses passed from dawn into the night, horses, horses, horses.
PAIRS
We come to terms with shade, the principle of grey
One or two blackmailers, a poisoner
Unnatural Acts
Every fear is a form of desire
Use the back entrance
When all this is over, I shall give them the finger
The weakening eye of day
I saw an x-ray of a baby
AXE
Unwearied still, lover after lover
Not even in my thoughts
I did not think death could undo so much
DANDELION
She is beautiful. I dream about her.
The rain flies down the street, flaps outside our door
BLOOD TEST
All the sun long it was running
Appointment in Basingstoke
The stove’s heat mottling her legs
Moving the books
Her dead body wears the smile of accomplishment
I know where you are
Thinking of an old lover makes it hard
JUG
We renounce everything except the self
Uzi Wedding
Her floured hands at the baking board
Show me the kitchen, the knives
Three thousand years ago they didn’t give a fuck
GUN
I would like to be terminally ill
Red and yellow, silver-back, half-imagined things
16 GIG
I kept my wife’s heart in a canary’s cage
DUFFY’S TRICK
I’m going to sail round the world
I cannot speak to you
Horses passed from dawn into the night, horses, horses, horses.
PAIRS
We come to terms with shade, the principle of grey
One or two blackmailers, a poisoner
Unnatural Acts
Every fear is a form of desire
Use the back entrance
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Tuesday Prompts
A sound of banging from upstairs
Keeping them apart
Although a true love never dies, it can become unreal
An empty can of Pepsi
Sailing in the dark towards Oslo
Perfect apart from the missing door
A slip on the stairs
I have come often to these open halls
Drained, empty
Where the streets have no name
Mark is at the door
The dark is rising
It’s a perfect size for DVDs
There’s published and published
The end one is split
In the not-too-distant future, if all my dreams come true
Majesty, Majesty
The legend of Luke McCauley
A swollen floor
Northern Lights
I’m gonna tear your playhouse down
Who Wants to Live Forever?
Air on a G-String
An angel of the great white way
Keeping them apart
Although a true love never dies, it can become unreal
An empty can of Pepsi
Sailing in the dark towards Oslo
Perfect apart from the missing door
A slip on the stairs
I have come often to these open halls
Drained, empty
Where the streets have no name
Mark is at the door
The dark is rising
It’s a perfect size for DVDs
There’s published and published
The end one is split
In the not-too-distant future, if all my dreams come true
Majesty, Majesty
The legend of Luke McCauley
A swollen floor
Northern Lights
I’m gonna tear your playhouse down
Who Wants to Live Forever?
Air on a G-String
An angel of the great white way
Monday, August 18, 2008
Monday
December. Another Monday.
If we mattered they’d have to feel guilty
Bright-faced, her eyes darting.
A brush with drowning
He could see her in his rear-view mirror, long and slim
Her thoughts were filling the silence
There was darkness and a silence she could feel
It was “Teach Yourself Flying”
She was shoeless and massaging one of her black-stockinged feet
They went down to the canteen via the back stairs
You measured harassment by the square yard
They heard a quick rush of men’s laughter
My Billy is an angel
The rounded-down sterility that came from a ball-point pen
They were brewing up behind the bar
She was a tallish size twelve with shining black hair
A thin air job
She wished that she was running, right now
Remember, God sent me.
They can do it to us because we’re nothing.
This is the one. She likes me.
She lived alone on a quiet estate of Barratt houses
Perhaps she had smelt something burning
Thank-you for your co-operation
We’re looking for a man in a dirty raincoat
They were bound to talk about men
Her hands at ten-to-two on the wheel
They parked in a side-street
A massive oak tree
Sunlight flashed off bone
He’s magnificent!” she said.
Four or five hundred yards away to their left
The temperature had finally crept above zero
A dark green sheen on the grass
She twitched her nose, sniffing at the air.
I feel shitty if you must know
From the bushes he saw the two of them
He was in a Nike shell-suit and a pair of New Balance trainers
Then the women turned and walked away
He felt something cold snap around his wrists
We don’t fancy the paperwork
The parking’s crap in central Richmond
Man-hating would do for now.
If we mattered they’d have to feel guilty
Bright-faced, her eyes darting.
A brush with drowning
He could see her in his rear-view mirror, long and slim
Her thoughts were filling the silence
There was darkness and a silence she could feel
It was “Teach Yourself Flying”
She was shoeless and massaging one of her black-stockinged feet
They went down to the canteen via the back stairs
You measured harassment by the square yard
They heard a quick rush of men’s laughter
My Billy is an angel
The rounded-down sterility that came from a ball-point pen
They were brewing up behind the bar
She was a tallish size twelve with shining black hair
A thin air job
She wished that she was running, right now
Remember, God sent me.
They can do it to us because we’re nothing.
This is the one. She likes me.
She lived alone on a quiet estate of Barratt houses
Perhaps she had smelt something burning
Thank-you for your co-operation
We’re looking for a man in a dirty raincoat
They were bound to talk about men
Her hands at ten-to-two on the wheel
They parked in a side-street
A massive oak tree
Sunlight flashed off bone
He’s magnificent!” she said.
Four or five hundred yards away to their left
The temperature had finally crept above zero
A dark green sheen on the grass
She twitched her nose, sniffing at the air.
I feel shitty if you must know
From the bushes he saw the two of them
He was in a Nike shell-suit and a pair of New Balance trainers
Then the women turned and walked away
He felt something cold snap around his wrists
We don’t fancy the paperwork
The parking’s crap in central Richmond
Man-hating would do for now.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Sunday Afternoon Prompts
A misunderstanding wings in
Bakelite
The spaces between people
Girls in the river, the water up to their waist.
Banana Salad
In the dark houseboats families were stirring
All our lives we must forget
Red Bus
The bride, holding her flowers too tightly
Drip-Dry
I predict my predictions are always wrong
Grief by instalments
On the muddy bank, boys are fishing
And still they die
I sit drinking, thinking. The coffee is bitter
Napkin
Prince Thingumebob, from what’stheplace
Wooden Crosses
What I am is not important
Fear swells the heart
Brute force will do
He trod cautiously over the dead
Champions
Dogs slavering behind barbed wire
Hammer
Syllable has too many syllables
A girl in exile
Pirates
Fool’s Gold still looks nice
Your daughter is accomplished, Madam
SKIP
What EXACTLY is in that sandwich?
Mistakes in Nightclothes
Things bin-men collect
A little bit to prove
The morning hits me like a fuck-off phone-call
What was left was fine
Some bastard stole my life and left my wife
Bakelite
The spaces between people
Girls in the river, the water up to their waist.
Banana Salad
In the dark houseboats families were stirring
All our lives we must forget
Red Bus
The bride, holding her flowers too tightly
Drip-Dry
I predict my predictions are always wrong
Grief by instalments
On the muddy bank, boys are fishing
And still they die
I sit drinking, thinking. The coffee is bitter
Napkin
Prince Thingumebob, from what’stheplace
Wooden Crosses
What I am is not important
Fear swells the heart
Brute force will do
He trod cautiously over the dead
Champions
Dogs slavering behind barbed wire
Hammer
Syllable has too many syllables
A girl in exile
Pirates
Fool’s Gold still looks nice
Your daughter is accomplished, Madam
SKIP
What EXACTLY is in that sandwich?
Mistakes in Nightclothes
Things bin-men collect
A little bit to prove
The morning hits me like a fuck-off phone-call
What was left was fine
Some bastard stole my life and left my wife
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Prompts For Sunday
My father, crying in St Mary’s
I am worn out with dreams
My love, I never spoke to her, but she heard every word
Smoke in the Valley
I am a man now
Al night in submarine light
My hands are red with the blood of the dead
I think about the FBI
We drove fast, singing, playing the Stones
I know that I shall meet my fate
He was a schoolmaster
Agnes fiddling with her rosary
Tread softly
A boy like a ballet dancer, poised
Oh love and you so far away
I draw your attention to the window
A sadness of penguins
Hair pale as a breath
If I should love a fat lady
Somewhere, on the other side of this wasted night
I took my son’s girlfriend home
How delightful it may be
Losing is fairly easy
I lost my father in Waitrose
Boogie-Bloody-Woogie
My friends rise up and chant
Yellow pissholes in the snow
I can name them all
Television and other necessities
Passing bells
My daughter is drawing a picture
We can get so far in this world
I once bathed in a bath full of eels
Time is a bastard
Shall I compare thee to a Lamborgini?
Isobel from the estate kissed me
When all this is over, I’ll retire
It’s a shame about the shadow
At night I do not know who I am
I walk through your rooms, wondering
Underground
I am acquainted with the dark
I am worn out with dreams
My love, I never spoke to her, but she heard every word
Smoke in the Valley
I am a man now
Al night in submarine light
My hands are red with the blood of the dead
I think about the FBI
We drove fast, singing, playing the Stones
I know that I shall meet my fate
He was a schoolmaster
Agnes fiddling with her rosary
Tread softly
A boy like a ballet dancer, poised
Oh love and you so far away
I draw your attention to the window
A sadness of penguins
Hair pale as a breath
If I should love a fat lady
Somewhere, on the other side of this wasted night
I took my son’s girlfriend home
How delightful it may be
Losing is fairly easy
I lost my father in Waitrose
Boogie-Bloody-Woogie
My friends rise up and chant
Yellow pissholes in the snow
I can name them all
Television and other necessities
Passing bells
My daughter is drawing a picture
We can get so far in this world
I once bathed in a bath full of eels
Time is a bastard
Shall I compare thee to a Lamborgini?
Isobel from the estate kissed me
When all this is over, I’ll retire
It’s a shame about the shadow
At night I do not know who I am
I walk through your rooms, wondering
Underground
I am acquainted with the dark
Saturday Prompts
In the depths of the Greyhound terminal
The soldier takes pride in saluting his captain
A white mare
My days wind out, aimless, hopeless
Pursuit
Old men and women, rich and poor
Pencil
Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold
A cricket bat, a box
Nothing to do with Hamlet
Two men in blazers
Crew
The boys are not well
It’s about the end of the world
Clear plastic
An aged man is a paltry thing
This is fresh
I shall hide behind being old
The fun starts here
We pace along the battlements, hoping
Two men have been found
Edgar wins!
A winding staircase, candles flickering
A Mexican green pepper
Without love, the world is too heavy
Rage-driven, rage-tormented
Swan
When we were young we had pretty toys
Tennis-ball
They are holding a public meeting
Silver
I started running weeks ago. I will not stop
Atlas
I’m trying to come to the point
On the cover of TIME
Through icy streets
There are places where I have not been
They reject spirit
This man can sing!
I imagine a land, rain-soaked
The soldier takes pride in saluting his captain
A white mare
My days wind out, aimless, hopeless
Pursuit
Old men and women, rich and poor
Pencil
Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold
A cricket bat, a box
Nothing to do with Hamlet
Two men in blazers
Crew
The boys are not well
It’s about the end of the world
Clear plastic
An aged man is a paltry thing
This is fresh
I shall hide behind being old
The fun starts here
We pace along the battlements, hoping
Two men have been found
Edgar wins!
A winding staircase, candles flickering
A Mexican green pepper
Without love, the world is too heavy
Rage-driven, rage-tormented
Swan
When we were young we had pretty toys
Tennis-ball
They are holding a public meeting
Silver
I started running weeks ago. I will not stop
Atlas
I’m trying to come to the point
On the cover of TIME
Through icy streets
There are places where I have not been
They reject spirit
This man can sing!
I imagine a land, rain-soaked
Friday, August 15, 2008
Friday prompts
Dogfight
There’s a problem with Mrs Evans
White on White
When you are old, if you should think of me
Yes, but apart from the race massacres?
Airfields
And they killed the cat
The edges of doors
Full English Breakfast
Katie is back soon
Rocked the cradle etc
Two single duvets
How do I love Theo? Let me count the ways
Twenty-eight hours
A lot of rough edges
No, THIS is a knife
Boil, carbuncle
It is cooler than we expected
I know she died, but how?
I keep my son awake
Go gently, go otherwise, but go.
We are arguing. Twenty? Thirty?
I don’t like how the wind comes through
My gnome has run off again
I heard he was Welsh, but OK
Blessings, Effendi
I may go, I may come back. But I will only come back if I went.
There’s a problem with Mrs Evans
White on White
When you are old, if you should think of me
Yes, but apart from the race massacres?
Airfields
And they killed the cat
The edges of doors
Full English Breakfast
Katie is back soon
Rocked the cradle etc
Two single duvets
How do I love Theo? Let me count the ways
Twenty-eight hours
A lot of rough edges
No, THIS is a knife
Boil, carbuncle
It is cooler than we expected
I know she died, but how?
I keep my son awake
Go gently, go otherwise, but go.
We are arguing. Twenty? Thirty?
I don’t like how the wind comes through
My gnome has run off again
I heard he was Welsh, but OK
Blessings, Effendi
I may go, I may come back. But I will only come back if I went.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Wednesday Night Prompts
Forgive me for naming you
Your dark geometry
Not British
A clean, white apron
The wars come and the wars come
Two Jokers
I have not sent you a letter and I doubt it will arrive
Howl, Howl.
When all is said and done, at the end of the day
A tall bird in a small tree
Ping!
On a motorway bridge
You never asked what he was like.
There are men seeking my father
If October comes
GAS!
A dull light shines behind a muslin curtain
I think we should finish now
Consider death
This is not a test I wish to take
In a bluebell wood, bluebells
We could meet at the station
Virgin Mary
I'm beginning to dislike mornings
Peanut
A small bird, impaled on a thorn
We know love, little by little
A shadow whispering
Chapel
He was part of the place
Your dark geometry
Not British
A clean, white apron
The wars come and the wars come
Two Jokers
I have not sent you a letter and I doubt it will arrive
Howl, Howl.
When all is said and done, at the end of the day
A tall bird in a small tree
Ping!
On a motorway bridge
You never asked what he was like.
There are men seeking my father
If October comes
GAS!
A dull light shines behind a muslin curtain
I think we should finish now
Consider death
This is not a test I wish to take
In a bluebell wood, bluebells
We could meet at the station
Virgin Mary
I'm beginning to dislike mornings
Peanut
A small bird, impaled on a thorn
We know love, little by little
A shadow whispering
Chapel
He was part of the place
Wednesday Morning Prompts
This is the wind, the wind down a long valley
Sunlight is a thing that needs a window to be called light.
Have you heard something?
Leather
Battered by time and weather
Doors open and close with tinkling bells
I saw a thousand years pass
Two old men exchanging prose
Table, Glass
The gate is held together by wire
Gold
It will be always at a distance
I will do murder and then drink tea
Think of the spaces
Daughter, do not go where it is dark
I cannot sit in that chair
Cigarette Burns
I do not trust this light
Maybe we could get together on day, and talk about
Silver
There is a dance at Billy’s tonight
Report
These are indifferent streets
Credit
I think of my father emptying the grate
Vitamins
We danced on broken glass and sang
Dragged through streets at dawn
He is chained in an old subway tunnel
I need a sordid movie
Dreams cluster there and turn cold
There are light months and dark months
You are far away, dark in your small fields
Leave it to nature and it will sprawl
Sunlight is a thing that needs a window to be called light.
Have you heard something?
Leather
Battered by time and weather
Doors open and close with tinkling bells
I saw a thousand years pass
Two old men exchanging prose
Table, Glass
The gate is held together by wire
Gold
It will be always at a distance
I will do murder and then drink tea
Think of the spaces
Daughter, do not go where it is dark
I cannot sit in that chair
Cigarette Burns
I do not trust this light
Maybe we could get together on day, and talk about
Silver
There is a dance at Billy’s tonight
Report
These are indifferent streets
Credit
I think of my father emptying the grate
Vitamins
We danced on broken glass and sang
Dragged through streets at dawn
He is chained in an old subway tunnel
I need a sordid movie
Dreams cluster there and turn cold
There are light months and dark months
You are far away, dark in your small fields
Leave it to nature and it will sprawl
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Struggling a Bit, and Prompts
A bereavement, three on holiday, one doesn't have time to do critiques, one off on business and suddenly the group shrinks. Damn! (This is why you always need twice as many as you think you need)
PROMPTS
You plan for it, have all the equipment
Telephone
Photographs do not burn like paper
Mixer
The smell of breakfasts over the dunes
Stork
I was too young, and old enough
ROBIN
On the hottest, stillest day of summer
Voice
The Collected Perms of Mariella Wilkins
Hi-Fi
When I was not a young child
Ball-Bearing
This is too long, too dry, I think we need to worry
Couples, Cardigans
Is that not how good stories go?
The evening is swelling
If love goes, was it ever there?
Victoria and Albert
All things can tempt me from my craft
Marmalade
Thomas was a fat drunken fuck
You could have gone back
Golf
Summer is late and autumn squeezed out
Shall I part my hair, or eat a peach?
I am looking for a river
We both lost, falling
Under my window, water runs
HAWK
The first word after a long silence
Here is a recipe
He calls to those who called him father
Three Hail Marys
I know seven ways there
And loitering within
Getting up early on a Sunday morning
Various Museums
Four dripping candles and a room full of sadness
PROMPTS
You plan for it, have all the equipment
Telephone
Photographs do not burn like paper
Mixer
The smell of breakfasts over the dunes
Stork
I was too young, and old enough
ROBIN
On the hottest, stillest day of summer
Voice
The Collected Perms of Mariella Wilkins
Hi-Fi
When I was not a young child
Ball-Bearing
This is too long, too dry, I think we need to worry
Couples, Cardigans
Is that not how good stories go?
The evening is swelling
If love goes, was it ever there?
Victoria and Albert
All things can tempt me from my craft
Marmalade
Thomas was a fat drunken fuck
You could have gone back
Golf
Summer is late and autumn squeezed out
Shall I part my hair, or eat a peach?
I am looking for a river
We both lost, falling
Under my window, water runs
HAWK
The first word after a long silence
Here is a recipe
He calls to those who called him father
Three Hail Marys
I know seven ways there
And loitering within
Getting up early on a Sunday morning
Various Museums
Four dripping candles and a room full of sadness
Monday, August 11, 2008
Monday Afternoon Prompts
The courtyard is filthy
Blue Light
The tree frog croaks its far-off song
I love you Lady Singleton
Anon wrote it
There’s a fish that talks in the kitchen
Mosquito
I dare not remove my cap and let my birds escape
SIT!
I am having a breakdown in Marks & Spencers
I have a jolly, jolly gun
Am I the only person who finds snow desolate?
They are closing all the stations
Sergeant Brown’s Parrot
Though the night was made for loving
Dixon of Dock Green
The yellow half-moon large and low
Everything changes
Stop all the clocks. Cut off the telephone.
I see a man digging, moving holes
Elephant
Books on shelves, threatening to move
I wanna be your lover, baby
Birdsong
Last night I dreamt in Japanese
I lied to please the mob
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing
Hit Man is two words?
Aunt Jennifer made love to a tiger, and all was well at first
Blue Light
The tree frog croaks its far-off song
I love you Lady Singleton
Anon wrote it
There’s a fish that talks in the kitchen
Mosquito
I dare not remove my cap and let my birds escape
SIT!
I am having a breakdown in Marks & Spencers
I have a jolly, jolly gun
Am I the only person who finds snow desolate?
They are closing all the stations
Sergeant Brown’s Parrot
Though the night was made for loving
Dixon of Dock Green
The yellow half-moon large and low
Everything changes
Stop all the clocks. Cut off the telephone.
I see a man digging, moving holes
Elephant
Books on shelves, threatening to move
I wanna be your lover, baby
Birdsong
Last night I dreamt in Japanese
I lied to please the mob
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing
Hit Man is two words?
Aunt Jennifer made love to a tiger, and all was well at first
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Sunday Night Prompts
I want to have another living summer
Cluster One
In February, digging his garden, planting potatoes
What do you want from me?
A ghostly batsman plays forward on a ghostly ball
It’s not romance, simply how things are
Poles apart
Yellow-Brown woman smelling of onions
Clearing a path through snow
Marooned
The same news in different houses
A great day for freedom
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing
Wearing the inside out
Come live with me and be my love
A thing of beauty is a joy until it’s obsolete
Take it back
Sometimes things don’t get better, ever
Coming back to life
The sun can melt a field of sorrow
Keep talking
I was born twice and died three times
Lost for words
The room, all of us, suddenly rich
High Hopes
It is too calm, something is wrong
Signs of Life
In Spanish he whispered, there is no time left
I am very, VERY fond of bananas
With smells of steak in passageways
Learning to Fly
Would you like to borrow my space-suit?
The dogs of war
Once in a finesse of fiddles, I found ecstacy
One slip
Bournvita, Bournvita, Bournvita
On the turning away
He breathed in air and breathed out light.
Cluster One
In February, digging his garden, planting potatoes
What do you want from me?
A ghostly batsman plays forward on a ghostly ball
It’s not romance, simply how things are
Poles apart
Yellow-Brown woman smelling of onions
Clearing a path through snow
Marooned
The same news in different houses
A great day for freedom
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing
Wearing the inside out
Come live with me and be my love
A thing of beauty is a joy until it’s obsolete
Take it back
Sometimes things don’t get better, ever
Coming back to life
The sun can melt a field of sorrow
Keep talking
I was born twice and died three times
Lost for words
The room, all of us, suddenly rich
High Hopes
It is too calm, something is wrong
Signs of Life
In Spanish he whispered, there is no time left
I am very, VERY fond of bananas
With smells of steak in passageways
Learning to Fly
Would you like to borrow my space-suit?
The dogs of war
Once in a finesse of fiddles, I found ecstacy
One slip
Bournvita, Bournvita, Bournvita
On the turning away
He breathed in air and breathed out light.
SUNDAY MORNING
Two More Signed Up over the weekend, but then two away on holiday!! Crits past 100.
TODAY WE WRITE A STORY, NOT A FLASH, OVER 1500 WORDS AT LEAST.
A Maltese Falcon
Be copy now to men of grosser blood and teach them how to war
The Lady Eve
And it was at that age that I awoke
Never give a sucker an even break
Every old man I see reminds me of my father
Wolf Man
The harbour lights glaze over restless docks
How Green Was My Valley
My credit cards are incandescent
Sullivan's Travels
Know then thyself
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke-stack
The Outlaw
From time to time our love is like a snail
MOVIE
She is a sound in the air, whispered, soaring
No, I ain't got nothing but my horse
Citizen Kane
I have so much nothing. I have cornered the market
Woman of the Year
The trick is sleep till 12 then watch TV
Hanging breathless over the teletype
The sea is calm tonight
To Be or Not to Be
Don't be rude to alligators until you've crossed the river
Bambi
I place my hope on the water
Casablanca
The best are those who die quite young and stay pristine
Mrs Miniver
The peaceful waters of your mouth
The Magnificent Ambersons
Kids walking in the dark road
The Black Swan
I wish I could believe in something beyond
You, hope, my football team
Cat People
This is the dawn I was waiting for
An Old Serbian Legend
The crossed-out bits of Keats, the edits
Shadow of a Doubt
Cut me to pieces, birds will still sing and worms crawl
Obsession
For Whom the Bell Tolls
The Adventures of Baron Munchhausen
The Ox-Bow Incident
I Walked With a Zombie
Heaven Can Wait
The Raven
Double Indemnity
Bathing Beauty
The Woman in the Window
Arsenic and Old Lace
Ladies of the Park
Great Freedom Number Seven
Gaslight
To Have and Have Not
Cover Girl
Henry V
TODAY WE WRITE A STORY, NOT A FLASH, OVER 1500 WORDS AT LEAST.
A Maltese Falcon
Be copy now to men of grosser blood and teach them how to war
The Lady Eve
And it was at that age that I awoke
Never give a sucker an even break
Every old man I see reminds me of my father
Wolf Man
The harbour lights glaze over restless docks
How Green Was My Valley
My credit cards are incandescent
Sullivan's Travels
Know then thyself
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke-stack
The Outlaw
From time to time our love is like a snail
MOVIE
She is a sound in the air, whispered, soaring
No, I ain't got nothing but my horse
Citizen Kane
I have so much nothing. I have cornered the market
Woman of the Year
The trick is sleep till 12 then watch TV
Hanging breathless over the teletype
The sea is calm tonight
To Be or Not to Be
Don't be rude to alligators until you've crossed the river
Bambi
I place my hope on the water
Casablanca
The best are those who die quite young and stay pristine
Mrs Miniver
The peaceful waters of your mouth
The Magnificent Ambersons
Kids walking in the dark road
The Black Swan
I wish I could believe in something beyond
You, hope, my football team
Cat People
This is the dawn I was waiting for
An Old Serbian Legend
The crossed-out bits of Keats, the edits
Shadow of a Doubt
Cut me to pieces, birds will still sing and worms crawl
Obsession
For Whom the Bell Tolls
The Adventures of Baron Munchhausen
The Ox-Bow Incident
I Walked With a Zombie
Heaven Can Wait
The Raven
Double Indemnity
Bathing Beauty
The Woman in the Window
Arsenic and Old Lace
Ladies of the Park
Great Freedom Number Seven
Gaslight
To Have and Have Not
Cover Girl
Henry V
Saturday, August 09, 2008
96 Critiques so Far
It's hard to comment/crit when you are working flat out producing but we approach our hundredth crit now
13 Signed, 37 Flashes, 3 Stories, 4 Poems
Going OK.
Here are some more prompts. I seem to have mislaid some!
Blind eyes like unshelled hard boiled eggs
There was a river
Parchment
An old man sits next to his beer
CHAIR
I have had lovers, all sub-prime
TABLE
Thinking of fish we have caught, almost caught
A Red Wheelbarrow
We took turns, and she said yes, then why did it feel wrong?
Pullman
Once, after a long day of unremitting rain, the sun
BECKS
What if the road you often took, was moved at night?
Scooping Cream
What if there was never surprise?
The nearest shop is miles away
The life of a leaf
Suddenly there are cattle, rumbling towards McDonalds
MicroLove
Shopping Carts and Rain, and amber light
Now something is in the air
I have heard, the children are returning
DIE, Bond!
If you could unwind history, where to stop…
CRANE
Of course the world is not enough
Late September
Once I asked my grocer for a perfect potato
Nobody there, just fruit on bramble
Stainless Steel
You said it wasn’t worth the trouble
Day Rises, and quiet
I caught a tremendous fish
I have loved three women, married others
Here are some more prompts. I seem to have mislaid some!
Blind eyes like unshelled hard boiled eggs
There was a river
Parchment
An old man sits next to his beer
CHAIR
I have had lovers, all sub-prime
TABLE
Thinking of fish we have caught, almost caught
A Red Wheelbarrow
We took turns, and she said yes, then why did it feel wrong?
Pullman
Once, after a long day of unremitting rain, the sun
BECKS
What if the road you often took, was moved at night?
Scooping Cream
What if there was never surprise?
The nearest shop is miles away
The life of a leaf
Suddenly there are cattle, rumbling towards McDonalds
MicroLove
Shopping Carts and Rain, and amber light
Now something is in the air
I have heard, the children are returning
DIE, Bond!
If you could unwind history, where to stop…
CRANE
Of course the world is not enough
Late September
Once I asked my grocer for a perfect potato
Nobody there, just fruit on bramble
Stainless Steel
You said it wasn’t worth the trouble
Day Rises, and quiet
I caught a tremendous fish
I have loved three women, married others
Friday, August 08, 2008
12 Signed, 3 Stories, 33 Flashes, 3 Poems
The thing grows!
Here are some more prompts
Blind eyes like unshelled hard boiled eggs
There was a river
Parchment
An old man sits next to his beer
CHAIR
I have had lovers, all sub-prime
TABLE
Thinking of fish we have caught, almost caught
A Red Wheelbarrow
We took turns, and she said yes, then why did it feel wrong?
Pullman
Once, after a long day of unremitting rain, the sun
BECKS
What if the road you often took, was moved at night?
Scooping Cream
What if there was never surprise?
The nearest shop is miles away
The life of a leaf
Suddenly there are cattle, rumbling towards McDonalds
MicroLove
Shopping Carts and Rain, and amber light
Now something is in the air
I have heard, the children are returning
DIE, Bond!
If you could unwind history, where to stop…
CRANE
Of course the world is not enough
Late September
Once I asked my grocer for a perfect potato
Nobody there, just fruit on bramble
Stainless Steel
You said it wasn’t worth the trouble
Day Rises, and quiet
I caught a tremendous fish
I have loved three women, married others
Here are some more prompts
Blind eyes like unshelled hard boiled eggs
There was a river
Parchment
An old man sits next to his beer
CHAIR
I have had lovers, all sub-prime
TABLE
Thinking of fish we have caught, almost caught
A Red Wheelbarrow
We took turns, and she said yes, then why did it feel wrong?
Pullman
Once, after a long day of unremitting rain, the sun
BECKS
What if the road you often took, was moved at night?
Scooping Cream
What if there was never surprise?
The nearest shop is miles away
The life of a leaf
Suddenly there are cattle, rumbling towards McDonalds
MicroLove
Shopping Carts and Rain, and amber light
Now something is in the air
I have heard, the children are returning
DIE, Bond!
If you could unwind history, where to stop…
CRANE
Of course the world is not enough
Late September
Once I asked my grocer for a perfect potato
Nobody there, just fruit on bramble
Stainless Steel
You said it wasn’t worth the trouble
Day Rises, and quiet
I caught a tremendous fish
I have loved three women, married others
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Loads More Prompts
These are singled, the alpha-listed, then in reverse.
try reading it all, singing them, chanting
Wait for a voice to call you
PROMPTS
They have promised to send a train, and we will leave
Father Maloney’s stare
Imagine a tender gravity, falling
Decision
And if I am writing, I am not holding my wife
I would like to sit close to the doors
How Morning is, and quiet
Tock
I have told you all this to give you pain
Bamboo Squares
They bubble-wrap hearts now and sell them three for two
The cook’s boy, the cleaning girl
VENOM
Stone to stone, heart to stone
CHIME
The rustle of history
NAIL, Hammer
Time clears its throat
BALL
Days of great love; of destiny
Do mad people love? What are there letters like?
GRATE
Birds Eye Frozen False Tears are on Offer
Jack of Hearts
We will talk about great things, and football
TAXI
I am silly, filled up with sleep and want
One Potato, Two Potato
Hardly a Joker
Should you not have time to memorise these instructions
Flat-Pack Marriages
The Chemistry of Distaste
And then cracking twigs
And we all stared at the box, and it inside
And if I am writing, I am not holding my wife
And then cracking twigs
And we all stared at the box, and it inside
BALL
Bamboo Squares
Birds Eye Frozen False Tears are on Offer
CHIME
Days of great love; of destiny
Decision
Do mad people love? What are there letters like?
Father Maloney’s stare
Flat-Pack Marriages
GRATE
Hardly a Joker
How Morning is, and quiet
I am silly, filled up with sleep and want
I have told you all this to give you pain
I would like to sit close to the doors
Imagine a tender gravity, falling
Jack of Hearts
NAIL, Hammer
One Potato, Two Potato
Should you not have time to memorise these instructions
Stone to stone, heart to stone
TAXI
The Chemistry of Distaste
The cook’s boy, the cleaning girl
The rustle of history
They bubble-wrap hearts now and sell them three for two
They have promised to send a train, and we will leave
Time clears its throat
Tock
VENOM
We will talk about great things, and football
We will talk about great things, and football, VENOM, Tick-Tock, Time clears its throat, They have promised to send a train, and we will leave, They bubble-wrap hearts now and sell them three for two, The rustle of history, The cook’s boy, the cleaning girl, The Chemistry of Distaste, TAXI, Stone to stone, heart to stone, Should you not have time to memorise these instructions, One Potato, Two Potato, NAIL, Hammer, Jack of Hearts, Imagine a tender gravity, falling, I would like to sit close to the doors, I have told you all this to give you pain, I am silly, filled up with sleep and want, How Morning is, and quiet, Hardly a Joker, GRATE, Flat-Pack Marriages, Father Maloney’s stare, Do mad people love? What are there letters like? Decision, Days of great love; of destiny, CHIME, Birds Eye Frozen False Tears are on Offer, Bamboo Squares, BALL, And we all stared at the box, and it inside, And then cracking twigs, And if I am writing, I am not holding my wife
try reading it all, singing them, chanting
Wait for a voice to call you
PROMPTS
They have promised to send a train, and we will leave
Father Maloney’s stare
Imagine a tender gravity, falling
Decision
And if I am writing, I am not holding my wife
I would like to sit close to the doors
How Morning is, and quiet
Tock
I have told you all this to give you pain
Bamboo Squares
They bubble-wrap hearts now and sell them three for two
The cook’s boy, the cleaning girl
VENOM
Stone to stone, heart to stone
CHIME
The rustle of history
NAIL, Hammer
Time clears its throat
BALL
Days of great love; of destiny
Do mad people love? What are there letters like?
GRATE
Birds Eye Frozen False Tears are on Offer
Jack of Hearts
We will talk about great things, and football
TAXI
I am silly, filled up with sleep and want
One Potato, Two Potato
Hardly a Joker
Should you not have time to memorise these instructions
Flat-Pack Marriages
The Chemistry of Distaste
And then cracking twigs
And we all stared at the box, and it inside
And if I am writing, I am not holding my wife
And then cracking twigs
And we all stared at the box, and it inside
BALL
Bamboo Squares
Birds Eye Frozen False Tears are on Offer
CHIME
Days of great love; of destiny
Decision
Do mad people love? What are there letters like?
Father Maloney’s stare
Flat-Pack Marriages
GRATE
Hardly a Joker
How Morning is, and quiet
I am silly, filled up with sleep and want
I have told you all this to give you pain
I would like to sit close to the doors
Imagine a tender gravity, falling
Jack of Hearts
NAIL, Hammer
One Potato, Two Potato
Should you not have time to memorise these instructions
Stone to stone, heart to stone
TAXI
The Chemistry of Distaste
The cook’s boy, the cleaning girl
The rustle of history
They bubble-wrap hearts now and sell them three for two
They have promised to send a train, and we will leave
Time clears its throat
Tock
VENOM
We will talk about great things, and football
We will talk about great things, and football, VENOM, Tick-Tock, Time clears its throat, They have promised to send a train, and we will leave, They bubble-wrap hearts now and sell them three for two, The rustle of history, The cook’s boy, the cleaning girl, The Chemistry of Distaste, TAXI, Stone to stone, heart to stone, Should you not have time to memorise these instructions, One Potato, Two Potato, NAIL, Hammer, Jack of Hearts, Imagine a tender gravity, falling, I would like to sit close to the doors, I have told you all this to give you pain, I am silly, filled up with sleep and want, How Morning is, and quiet, Hardly a Joker, GRATE, Flat-Pack Marriages, Father Maloney’s stare, Do mad people love? What are there letters like? Decision, Days of great love; of destiny, CHIME, Birds Eye Frozen False Tears are on Offer, Bamboo Squares, BALL, And we all stared at the box, and it inside, And then cracking twigs, And if I am writing, I am not holding my wife
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
27 Flashes, Two Stories, More prompts
The tree-stump, devoured
OATMEAL
Sometimes everything I write seems a snapshot, with a thumb over the lens
Tomorrowness
Consider the grass growing
ECHO
Being a man and not a god, he leaves
Squawk
Once upon a time, there wasn’t
Much of my thinking is about loss
Postcards from Fiji
Blackberry, blackberry, blackberry
BASRA
Shut up. Shut up. There’s nobody here.
Shampoo
Running from Spiders
CHISEL
Peach or Mango
Two white, ripe girls on the tube
Last Supper II
Two a.m. bright moonlight, a train in moonlight, hissing
CARS
He sits with his absent wife
The sky ripped open
I stretch my arms
Fish know where to move and when
Furniture
One minute and forty-two seconds
Only the virus
Goodnight, and goodnight
OATMEAL
Sometimes everything I write seems a snapshot, with a thumb over the lens
Tomorrowness
Consider the grass growing
ECHO
Being a man and not a god, he leaves
Squawk
Once upon a time, there wasn’t
Much of my thinking is about loss
Postcards from Fiji
Blackberry, blackberry, blackberry
BASRA
Shut up. Shut up. There’s nobody here.
Shampoo
Running from Spiders
CHISEL
Peach or Mango
Two white, ripe girls on the tube
Last Supper II
Two a.m. bright moonlight, a train in moonlight, hissing
CARS
He sits with his absent wife
The sky ripped open
I stretch my arms
Fish know where to move and when
Furniture
One minute and forty-two seconds
Only the virus
Goodnight, and goodnight
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
More Members, More Prompts
We now have eleven signed up, twenty flashes and one story posted and approaching 100 crits.
Here are some prompts to cover the week. Loads more at BC.
Monday Prompts
The Gods That Failed
Seagulls
Goldilocks is Asleep
When lovely woman stoops to folly
Man-bag
She turns and looks a moment in the glass
On the cheap
And children suffocate
Pictures
No one scrambles over the sliding chalk
Bacon, bacon
On the divan piled, stocking, camisoles, stays
Unreal Cities
Hardly aware of her departed lover
A Silen Fan
A sea-fog like gunsmoke
DAMP
So now the Victorians are all in Hell
BREAD
Your favourite word is wee, and you eat Eccles Cakes
TUESDAY
An so de rain a-fall and a-fall
Black Ball
There I places I will never go
Married and not pregnant: there’s posh for you
MARZIPAN
Where can I go then, from the smell
STALYBRIDGE
Bless you Alpha-Doggie
Good Boys
Into the grave that we have dug
Dai K lives at the end of the valley
Sin-Cake, Sin-Eater
Books, books, books
Of the forests and smashed faces
A crowd flowing over a bridge
COLD
A drowning child
Blodwen is leaving
He ravishes the fiddle, screams when drunk
WEDNESDAY
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?
GOOGLE as a number
The night we were struck, the night
Icing, meteors
Trains will run later, and fuck it
Cheesy Bond
September was when it began
Magic ingredient
A swarm of frogs, swollen, hideous
BERET
I can remember, see, my father walking home. I was never there
JUICE
Miss Marples, were they ever young and fucked?
THURSDAY
Blessing
You could try cheese
Mirror, mirror, on the fucking wall
The eighth dwarf
Crowds round the ticket barrier, a white face waiting
Death by Meteor
It has been said, that sometimes I lie, or bend the truth
Blind Faith
The very young T.E.
Was there a poster of me, with a moustache?
Blowing up the train
Poets only play with words, they always lie
We fight for something
There was an airfield here, the grass grows and leaves a pattern
Poppies
What is the opposite of E’s?
My father ran round the garden in the dark
FRIDAY
At least it’s something
September 1, 1939
There is no greater crime than leaving, except to stay
UNDESIRE
I may have been a Zulu, or wore petticoats
Mis-spelling, Miss Spelling
You can count on friends, but only to twenty or so
All I have is a voice
Aberyswyth
Accurate Scholarship is not of the soul
TS
But the corpse, alas, goes on dying
You do not love the dead, the word is LOVED
RAIN
After all you lasted longer
Practice hate, hate the village
SATURDAY
I sit in a dive on fifty-second street
CLINK
Truth-loving Persians
And where, exactly did the peach come from?
Why declare war?
TOM
Listen, there is a hum, and ticking
Through half-deserted streets
Tennis for the dead
Dogs skittering on polished floors
Snap!
And I have known the eyes already
Pop!
How the door clicks open
Crackle
Let us go and make our visit
Do I dare?
The soot that falls back down the chimney
Here are some prompts to cover the week. Loads more at BC.
Monday Prompts
The Gods That Failed
Seagulls
Goldilocks is Asleep
When lovely woman stoops to folly
Man-bag
She turns and looks a moment in the glass
On the cheap
And children suffocate
Pictures
No one scrambles over the sliding chalk
Bacon, bacon
On the divan piled, stocking, camisoles, stays
Unreal Cities
Hardly aware of her departed lover
A Silen Fan
A sea-fog like gunsmoke
DAMP
So now the Victorians are all in Hell
BREAD
Your favourite word is wee, and you eat Eccles Cakes
TUESDAY
An so de rain a-fall and a-fall
Black Ball
There I places I will never go
Married and not pregnant: there’s posh for you
MARZIPAN
Where can I go then, from the smell
STALYBRIDGE
Bless you Alpha-Doggie
Good Boys
Into the grave that we have dug
Dai K lives at the end of the valley
Sin-Cake, Sin-Eater
Books, books, books
Of the forests and smashed faces
A crowd flowing over a bridge
COLD
A drowning child
Blodwen is leaving
He ravishes the fiddle, screams when drunk
WEDNESDAY
What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?
GOOGLE as a number
The night we were struck, the night
Icing, meteors
Trains will run later, and fuck it
Cheesy Bond
September was when it began
Magic ingredient
A swarm of frogs, swollen, hideous
BERET
I can remember, see, my father walking home. I was never there
JUICE
Miss Marples, were they ever young and fucked?
THURSDAY
Blessing
You could try cheese
Mirror, mirror, on the fucking wall
The eighth dwarf
Crowds round the ticket barrier, a white face waiting
Death by Meteor
It has been said, that sometimes I lie, or bend the truth
Blind Faith
The very young T.E.
Was there a poster of me, with a moustache?
Blowing up the train
Poets only play with words, they always lie
We fight for something
There was an airfield here, the grass grows and leaves a pattern
Poppies
What is the opposite of E’s?
My father ran round the garden in the dark
FRIDAY
At least it’s something
September 1, 1939
There is no greater crime than leaving, except to stay
UNDESIRE
I may have been a Zulu, or wore petticoats
Mis-spelling, Miss Spelling
You can count on friends, but only to twenty or so
All I have is a voice
Aberyswyth
Accurate Scholarship is not of the soul
TS
But the corpse, alas, goes on dying
You do not love the dead, the word is LOVED
RAIN
After all you lasted longer
Practice hate, hate the village
SATURDAY
I sit in a dive on fifty-second street
CLINK
Truth-loving Persians
And where, exactly did the peach come from?
Why declare war?
TOM
Listen, there is a hum, and ticking
Through half-deserted streets
Tennis for the dead
Dogs skittering on polished floors
Snap!
And I have known the eyes already
Pop!
How the door clicks open
Crackle
Let us go and make our visit
Do I dare?
The soot that falls back down the chimney
Friday, August 01, 2008
EIGHT NOW SIGNED, Prompts
Eight now on board after 24 Hours.
Join Us.
Post at BC or email AK
Email to Snowball136 (at sign) googlemail.com
Here are tonight's prompts
Ten songs, one solid block of agony
Tourists, not Terrorists
Your father, in his terrible pose
Jill Dando
and inside the house, the bewildered child
Certainty
It began to snow at midnight
BOUNCE!
Where and when, exactly, did we first have sex?
BACK
Whose woods these are, I think I know
TAIL
the ragged road, the wood, the yearning
Kids on Stage
Breathing at my side, that heavy animal
Extensions
Back out slowly, step off your life
Samson
It's only a week, but you're slipping
Lighthouse
They have captured the moon, it's in a box
Getting There!
I will go back to that silent evening
BALL
When you have a plan, your life
You've been knocking a door, but it is just a door, nothing else is there
Acker Bilk, or the Other one
You could have just been another maggot
Rock's the cradle
ARIA
Finney, I will never forget
Join Us.
Post at BC or email AK
Email to Snowball136 (at sign) googlemail.com
Here are tonight's prompts
Ten songs, one solid block of agony
Tourists, not Terrorists
Your father, in his terrible pose
Jill Dando
and inside the house, the bewildered child
Certainty
It began to snow at midnight
BOUNCE!
Where and when, exactly, did we first have sex?
BACK
Whose woods these are, I think I know
TAIL
the ragged road, the wood, the yearning
Kids on Stage
Breathing at my side, that heavy animal
Extensions
Back out slowly, step off your life
Samson
It's only a week, but you're slipping
Lighthouse
They have captured the moon, it's in a box
Getting There!
I will go back to that silent evening
BALL
When you have a plan, your life
You've been knocking a door, but it is just a door, nothing else is there
Acker Bilk, or the Other one
You could have just been another maggot
Rock's the cradle
ARIA
Finney, I will never forget
SIX SIGNED UP ALREADY
Various Boot Campers have still to respond, but already we have four guests signed up for the month, a total of six writers.
Flashes posted to date (well it IS early!) SIX
Flashes posted to date (well it IS early!) SIX
JOIN US! Here are prompts and some advice
Please note that there is no "rule" which says you must read "this" set of prompts "NOW" and immediately write a flash.
The purpose of flashing is to UNLEASH, to break your own pre-set rules
but all we want is for you to write fast, unthinking, instinctively, with the gut.
If that means reading lines of poetry or looking at pictures, or listening to music on repeat, that's fine.
If it means reading 1-2-3-4-5 sets of flash prompts, that's fine, too.
What is important is letting rip, writing free of constraints and without planning.
PROMPTS
Burning burning burning burning
Armadillo
Children's voices in the orchard
The Pub Quiz
Where the grey light meets the green air
Lost Voices
I have been here before
SAND
I remember now. I did not know if it was grief or love
Restless nights
It was now a soft October
BLOSSOM
I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
A wallet filled with fat
CHERRY
I will always miss her, miss her
Bike!
The winter evening settles down
Gently, gently
I will row into the current, towards the falls
Tomorrow, then
A South Wales Argus came swirling about my feet
The boys in new kit
Wipe your hand across your mouth, laugh
This hour or so, drinking
Among the Dead Cities
I remember the nights, and the sound of nights
I would like to gently
The purpose of flashing is to UNLEASH, to break your own pre-set rules
but all we want is for you to write fast, unthinking, instinctively, with the gut.
If that means reading lines of poetry or looking at pictures, or listening to music on repeat, that's fine.
If it means reading 1-2-3-4-5 sets of flash prompts, that's fine, too.
What is important is letting rip, writing free of constraints and without planning.
PROMPTS
Burning burning burning burning
Armadillo
Children's voices in the orchard
The Pub Quiz
Where the grey light meets the green air
Lost Voices
I have been here before
SAND
I remember now. I did not know if it was grief or love
Restless nights
It was now a soft October
BLOSSOM
I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
A wallet filled with fat
CHERRY
I will always miss her, miss her
Bike!
The winter evening settles down
Gently, gently
I will row into the current, towards the falls
Tomorrow, then
A South Wales Argus came swirling about my feet
The boys in new kit
Wipe your hand across your mouth, laugh
This hour or so, drinking
Among the Dead Cities
I remember the nights, and the sound of nights
I would like to gently
Your Chance to Blast!
Boot Camp is running an August Blast. (FREE)
This involves "EXTREME" activity to get us through the hardest month for writers.
It involves members (and guests) committing/attempting to write EVERY day (at least SOMETHING)
and attempting to complete a flash or story or poem EVERY day for the whole of August.
A set of prompts will be posted every morning and twice every evening (see explanations elsewhere)
and Members/Guests should try and produce a flash or story a MINIMUM of once a day.<
The trick is to try to write THREE!
For the five Sundays there is also a STORY deadline 8PM Sunday.
The ideal participant would write a flash every day, some days more than one, AND manage a story each week
PLEASE don't bleat and say it cannot be done. We KNOW it can be done. We know that the quality of work
IMPROVES due to the pressure, the hectic nature, the "buzz".
Boot Campers and guests (Children in Need, Previous Blasts, East of the Web) have been responsible for hundreds
of publications and more than twenty first prizes in competitions, all from "impossible" blasts.
There is something in the very nature of suspending all and crashing forward, a sense of fear moves to one of liberation
ALL WE CAN SAY IS TRY IT.
CURRENT BOOT CAMPERS, FORMER BOOT CAMPERS AND STRANGERS/GUESTS ARE ALL WELCOME. There are a number of "AUGUST BLAST" forums. Apply here (no charge) and Alex will arrange access to the other forums.
We ask a few things
1. Commitment. If you aren't prepared to "give it a go" don't bother applying.
2. A sense of constructivity, in work, commitment, mutual motivation.
3. A willingness to (briefly) critique flashes and critique stories (authors are anonymous) and NOT to respond when your own story is critiqued 4. NO Flames. I do not warn people. I simply delete them, IMMEDIATELY.
This involves "EXTREME" activity to get us through the hardest month for writers.
It involves members (and guests) committing/attempting to write EVERY day (at least SOMETHING)
and attempting to complete a flash or story or poem EVERY day for the whole of August.
A set of prompts will be posted every morning and twice every evening (see explanations elsewhere)
and Members/Guests should try and produce a flash or story a MINIMUM of once a day.<
The trick is to try to write THREE!
For the five Sundays there is also a STORY deadline 8PM Sunday.
The ideal participant would write a flash every day, some days more than one, AND manage a story each week
PLEASE don't bleat and say it cannot be done. We KNOW it can be done. We know that the quality of work
IMPROVES due to the pressure, the hectic nature, the "buzz".
Boot Campers and guests (Children in Need, Previous Blasts, East of the Web) have been responsible for hundreds
of publications and more than twenty first prizes in competitions, all from "impossible" blasts.
There is something in the very nature of suspending all and crashing forward, a sense of fear moves to one of liberation
ALL WE CAN SAY IS TRY IT.
CURRENT BOOT CAMPERS, FORMER BOOT CAMPERS AND STRANGERS/GUESTS ARE ALL WELCOME. There are a number of "AUGUST BLAST" forums. Apply here (no charge) and Alex will arrange access to the other forums.
We ask a few things
1. Commitment. If you aren't prepared to "give it a go" don't bother applying.
2. A sense of constructivity, in work, commitment, mutual motivation.
3. A willingness to (briefly) critique flashes and critique stories (authors are anonymous) and NOT to respond when your own story is critiqued 4. NO Flames. I do not warn people. I simply delete them, IMMEDIATELY.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
All the January Hits..
Here is January as a snapshot
11 Hits, THREE first prizes, two seconds and a third
$972
001 0,000 Dan in Print at Ascent Aspirations, US Mag with "Once in a Bloodless land"
002 0,001 Tom earns $1 for a poem in on-line mag http://www.geocities.com/theshantytownanomaly
003 0,100 Nancy wins $100 C-i-N Anthology with "Smollensky"
004 0,000 Cally Second in C-i-N Anthology with "The Creature Between Us"
005 0,600 Jason Jackson wins $600 First Prize at Writers Forum with "Final Knockings"
006 0,020 TomC gets twenty bucks from "Big Pulp" for "Skin Like Shining Armour"
007 0,000 Cally gets into print mag Aesthetica with "Waiting For Julia"
2008-008 Tom C places a poem at the shantytownanolmaly and earns $1
2008-009 Claire places a CIN poem at ezine "Apt"
2008-010 Another CIN hit, this time Rupert places "The Sparrow" at Southern Ocean Review
2008-011 Jason Jackson $50 3rd place at JBWB Short Story Comp
2008-012 Caroline wins $200 First Prize at JBWB (Poetry)
11 Hits, THREE first prizes, two seconds and a third
$972
001 0,000 Dan in Print at Ascent Aspirations, US Mag with "Once in a Bloodless land"
002 0,001 Tom earns $1 for a poem in on-line mag http://www.geocities.com/theshantytownanomaly
003 0,100 Nancy wins $100 C-i-N Anthology with "Smollensky"
004 0,000 Cally Second in C-i-N Anthology with "The Creature Between Us"
005 0,600 Jason Jackson wins $600 First Prize at Writers Forum with "Final Knockings"
006 0,020 TomC gets twenty bucks from "Big Pulp" for "Skin Like Shining Armour"
007 0,000 Cally gets into print mag Aesthetica with "Waiting For Julia"
2008-008 Tom C places a poem at the shantytownanolmaly and earns $1
2008-009 Claire places a CIN poem at ezine "Apt"
2008-010 Another CIN hit, this time Rupert places "The Sparrow" at Southern Ocean Review
2008-011 Jason Jackson $50 3rd place at JBWB Short Story Comp
2008-012 Caroline wins $200 First Prize at JBWB (Poetry)
More Hits, Another First Prize $972
January finishes with a flourish...
2008-008 Tom C places a poem at the shantytownanolmaly and earns $1
2008-009 Claire places a CIN poem at ezine "Apt"
2008-010 Another CIN hit, this time Rupert places "The Sparrow" at Southern Ocean Review
2008-011 Jason Jackson $50 3rd place at JBWB Short Story Comp
2008-012 Caroline wins $200 First Prize at JBWB (Poetry)
2008-008 Tom C places a poem at the shantytownanolmaly and earns $1
2008-009 Claire places a CIN poem at ezine "Apt"
2008-010 Another CIN hit, this time Rupert places "The Sparrow" at Southern Ocean Review
2008-011 Jason Jackson $50 3rd place at JBWB Short Story Comp
2008-012 Caroline wins $200 First Prize at JBWB (Poetry)
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Stats Update 2 2008 HITS $721
001 0,000 Dan in Print at Ascent Aspirations, US Mag with "Once in a Bloodless land"
002 0,001 Tom earns $1 for a poem in on-line mag http://www.geocities.com/theshantytownanomaly
003 0,100 Nancy wins $100 C-i-N Anthology with "Smollensky"
004 0,000 Cally Second in C-i-N Anthology with "The Creature Between Us"
005 0,600 Jason Jackson wins $600 First Prize at Writers Forum with "Final Knockings"
006 0,020 TomC gets twenty bucks from "Big Pulp" for "Skin Like Shining Armour"
007 0,000 Caly gets into print mag Aesthetica with "Waiting For Julia"
999 0,721 Dollars
Further NOTES (Small Hits)
CIN Anthology
Though many of the entrants are in-house BCers, there were still many stories to beat and a third of the entrants were not current BCers.
There is just the first prize to award (Nancy Saunders) but the awards would be 1-2-3 with only one prize per person
1 Nancy Saunders
2 Cally Taylor
3 Jonathan Pinnock (non-BC)
IMO the others are WORTH hits, but we should call them notes.
16 Smollensky - Nancy Saunders
07 There is Only One Story - Nancy Saunders
06 Creature Between Us - Cally Taylor
04 Dog Maths - Jonathan Pinnock
04 3-Headed Penis - Dan Malach
03 Click-Sparrow - Cally Taylor
03 8 out of 10 Cats - Antony Davies (non-BC but ex-BC)
03 Fig(ht) - Dave Prescott (non-BC, but ex-BC)
02 Sword in Garden - Nancy Saunders
02 Ignorance of Men - Tom Conoboy
01 Big George - Colin Upton
01 Grab Attention - Jonathan Pinnock (non-BC)
01 Heavy Boots - Jonathan Pinnock (non-BC)
01 Walking by the Beach - Tom Conoboy
Caroline has had two acceptances for poems at ????? which she prefers to recod as notes and not full hits
002 0,001 Tom earns $1 for a poem in on-line mag http://www.geocities.com/theshantytownanomaly
003 0,100 Nancy wins $100 C-i-N Anthology with "Smollensky"
004 0,000 Cally Second in C-i-N Anthology with "The Creature Between Us"
005 0,600 Jason Jackson wins $600 First Prize at Writers Forum with "Final Knockings"
006 0,020 TomC gets twenty bucks from "Big Pulp" for "Skin Like Shining Armour"
007 0,000 Caly gets into print mag Aesthetica with "Waiting For Julia"
999 0,721 Dollars
Further NOTES (Small Hits)
CIN Anthology
Though many of the entrants are in-house BCers, there were still many stories to beat and a third of the entrants were not current BCers.
There is just the first prize to award (Nancy Saunders) but the awards would be 1-2-3 with only one prize per person
1 Nancy Saunders
2 Cally Taylor
3 Jonathan Pinnock (non-BC)
IMO the others are WORTH hits, but we should call them notes.
16 Smollensky - Nancy Saunders
07 There is Only One Story - Nancy Saunders
06 Creature Between Us - Cally Taylor
04 Dog Maths - Jonathan Pinnock
04 3-Headed Penis - Dan Malach
03 Click-Sparrow - Cally Taylor
03 8 out of 10 Cats - Antony Davies (non-BC but ex-BC)
03 Fig(ht) - Dave Prescott (non-BC, but ex-BC)
02 Sword in Garden - Nancy Saunders
02 Ignorance of Men - Tom Conoboy
01 Big George - Colin Upton
01 Grab Attention - Jonathan Pinnock (non-BC)
01 Heavy Boots - Jonathan Pinnock (non-BC)
01 Walking by the Beach - Tom Conoboy
Caroline has had two acceptances for poems at ????? which she prefers to recod as notes and not full hits
Stats Update 2008 Publications $1,020
2008
001 Eclectica: Alex, "Blinking at the Sun"
002 Eclectica: Cally "xxxx" ($100) First Prize
003 Eclectica: Colin, "xxxx" ($50) 2nd prize
004 Eclectica: Alex, "Cull"
005 Momaya Anthology: Cally, "C is for Cuckoo"
006 Momaya Anthology: Alex, "The Quarry." ($270)
007 Smokebox: Chrissie, "Bling"
008 Smokebox: Joel, "The Name"
009 Smokebox: Cedric, "Shape Shifting"
010 Leaf Books Anthology: Jenny Jackson, "Jared Williams Again"
011 Writers Forum $600 First Prize Jason Jackson Story
001 Eclectica: Alex, "Blinking at the Sun"
002 Eclectica: Cally "xxxx" ($100) First Prize
003 Eclectica: Colin, "xxxx" ($50) 2nd prize
004 Eclectica: Alex, "Cull"
005 Momaya Anthology: Cally, "C is for Cuckoo"
006 Momaya Anthology: Alex, "The Quarry." ($270)
007 Smokebox: Chrissie, "Bling"
008 Smokebox: Joel, "The Name"
009 Smokebox: Cedric, "Shape Shifting"
010 Leaf Books Anthology: Jenny Jackson, "Jared Williams Again"
011 Writers Forum $600 First Prize Jason Jackson Story
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
More Competition Prizes
After thirteen hits posted yesterday, more good news!!
Joel wins $100 Third Place at WriteSpace
Cally gets $30 as a runner-up
Chrissie places a story at Doodledog
Joel wins $100 Third Place at WriteSpace
Cally gets $30 as a runner-up
Chrissie places a story at Doodledog
Monday, November 26, 2007
13 Boot Camp Hits: $322
1 Jason picks up Third Place ($200) ad in the H E Bates Short-Story Competition (Print)
2 Joel gets Highly recommended in the H E Bates Short-Story Comp, also (Print)
3 Jason Jackson was shortlisted at Guildford
4 TomC is accepted for "Chaos Theory" ($10)
5 Cally earns $50 and a nice Oz publication in "Etchings" (Print)
6 Rupert gets into Diddledog
7 Christina has a flash accepted for Smokebox
8 Louise Cypher gets $20 and a pub in "Murky Depths" print mag
9 Jason Jackson earns $30 with a story at Espresso Fiction
10 Matt gets a story into January's "Transmission" (Print)
11 Tom gets a story into "Fly in Amber" ($10)
12 Tom has a story in "Balderdash" and earns a whole $2
13 Rupert has a story accepted for print-mag "Four Volts"
11 Joel gets highly recommended at JBWB
2 Joel gets Highly recommended in the H E Bates Short-Story Comp, also (Print)
3 Jason Jackson was shortlisted at Guildford
4 TomC is accepted for "Chaos Theory" ($10)
5 Cally earns $50 and a nice Oz publication in "Etchings" (Print)
6 Rupert gets into Diddledog
7 Christina has a flash accepted for Smokebox
8 Louise Cypher gets $20 and a pub in "Murky Depths" print mag
9 Jason Jackson earns $30 with a story at Espresso Fiction
10 Matt gets a story into January's "Transmission" (Print)
11 Tom gets a story into "Fly in Amber" ($10)
12 Tom has a story in "Balderdash" and earns a whole $2
13 Rupert has a story accepted for print-mag "Four Volts"
11 Joel gets highly recommended at JBWB
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Saturday 04:00 Prompts
A beautiful building, an ugly one
A billion, more or less
A brave and rare man, Hungarian
A furious woman
A garden, a slum
A soldier boy, dark, and tall. He is marked with a target
Blodwen is pregnant
Does that explain it?
Double your money
Dreams must remain damp to lessen shrinkage
Driving West through Wales
Everyone prefers good looks to ugliness
Has anyone seen my sky?
He spent seven years in solitary, dreaming of fires
I am considering eating your budgie
I bitterly resented the way men grabbed me
I can, thenk God, walk forever
I cannot run more than a few yards
I have what every poet hates
I ought to be happy
I place my hope upon the water. It sinks
I think I had no self-consciousness
I took my looks for granted
Irish carpentry, American kindness
Lamplight, yellow windows, light bleeding
Love is liquid
May I borrow your gun? I have my own bullets
My body is wearing out
My friends started dying when I was quite young.
My immortal soul
Neither here nor there, and almost arriving
Now it strikes me as a huge joke
Outside yellow corn, yellow, yellow, yellow
Popcorn
Somehow made tolerable
Something is broken
Stone, harsh wind
The body, face, brain are all oneself
The dogs will stop me writing
The meteor is coming. It fills the sky
The street was lined with fish
The wife is twenty years younger
The world is emptier
War and the pity of war
What the hell did they mean wanting my body?
Whenever I phone, the answers come first
Where can I go to escape the smell?
Will there also be singing?
You decided to come in the back way
You know the people there.
You think of looks always in relation to sex. I don't.
You went out to buy cigarettes. I killed myself quickly then hid
You will know who they are by their absence
You wrote that a friend had died
A billion, more or less
A brave and rare man, Hungarian
A furious woman
A garden, a slum
A soldier boy, dark, and tall. He is marked with a target
Blodwen is pregnant
Does that explain it?
Double your money
Dreams must remain damp to lessen shrinkage
Driving West through Wales
Everyone prefers good looks to ugliness
Has anyone seen my sky?
He spent seven years in solitary, dreaming of fires
I am considering eating your budgie
I bitterly resented the way men grabbed me
I can, thenk God, walk forever
I cannot run more than a few yards
I have what every poet hates
I ought to be happy
I place my hope upon the water. It sinks
I think I had no self-consciousness
I took my looks for granted
Irish carpentry, American kindness
Lamplight, yellow windows, light bleeding
Love is liquid
May I borrow your gun? I have my own bullets
My body is wearing out
My friends started dying when I was quite young.
My immortal soul
Neither here nor there, and almost arriving
Now it strikes me as a huge joke
Outside yellow corn, yellow, yellow, yellow
Popcorn
Somehow made tolerable
Something is broken
Stone, harsh wind
The body, face, brain are all oneself
The dogs will stop me writing
The meteor is coming. It fills the sky
The street was lined with fish
The wife is twenty years younger
The world is emptier
War and the pity of war
What the hell did they mean wanting my body?
Whenever I phone, the answers come first
Where can I go to escape the smell?
Will there also be singing?
You decided to come in the back way
You know the people there.
You think of looks always in relation to sex. I don't.
You went out to buy cigarettes. I killed myself quickly then hid
You will know who they are by their absence
You wrote that a friend had died
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Thursday prompts
This version of the story is in English. In Milan.
Sadness, that's normal, it goes with the territory.
Squinting against the late-afternoon sun as it cut through the birch trees
In the afternoons before the holidays Trish had started frequenting a restaurant a few blocks west of the apartment.
I loved a girl once. Every story starts that way, right?
There she goes. Who? That girl. What girl? You know. What's-her-name.
Florence Melnick went to the library every day.
They're married, but not to each other.
On the way home from hospital, Ava tells Charlotte that after her first husband was killed during a German air attack on Bari in 1943, she cried without pause for weeks, only to emerge from her stunning grief temporarily blind.
Once upon a time two men lived down the bottom of a nuclear missile silo.
Years before my sister Allie became the champion you know and love – winner of the International Matzo-Eating Contest, title-holder of the Conch Fritter Invitational, the girl who down nine sticks of butter in five minutes – she binged her way through a dinner dare that became her finest hour (and my longest).
Dolly's first big idea was the hat.
When I started out volunteering on Monday nights at New Day House, it was just me, Karen, and a rotating cast of eight or ten kids who, with their sticky marker-covered hands and mysteriously damp clothes, would greet us by lunging into our arms and leading us into the basement playroom.
From Wanda Farrelly-Johnson. Are we God's Children of Ham? And other Dilemmas of Black Historical Research (Pilot, N.C.: Lizard Ladies Press, 1983):
Tommy's cousin Gabe. Tommy's distant cousin Gabe from Stillwater, Minnesota. Tommy's cousin Gabe, related to my husband through divorce and remarriage, in lieu of actual blood, who arrives on my front porch at dinnertime with a duffel bag and fanny-pack. Industrial-sized.
Dear Doctor X, if I may call you that. Perhaps I should introduce myself.
I met Adam at the bookstore. He was in the section marked Biography/History.
You thought everybody in America had a car and a gun, your uncles and aunts thought so too.
Sadness, that's normal, it goes with the territory.
Squinting against the late-afternoon sun as it cut through the birch trees
In the afternoons before the holidays Trish had started frequenting a restaurant a few blocks west of the apartment.
I loved a girl once. Every story starts that way, right?
There she goes. Who? That girl. What girl? You know. What's-her-name.
Florence Melnick went to the library every day.
They're married, but not to each other.
On the way home from hospital, Ava tells Charlotte that after her first husband was killed during a German air attack on Bari in 1943, she cried without pause for weeks, only to emerge from her stunning grief temporarily blind.
Once upon a time two men lived down the bottom of a nuclear missile silo.
Years before my sister Allie became the champion you know and love – winner of the International Matzo-Eating Contest, title-holder of the Conch Fritter Invitational, the girl who down nine sticks of butter in five minutes – she binged her way through a dinner dare that became her finest hour (and my longest).
Dolly's first big idea was the hat.
When I started out volunteering on Monday nights at New Day House, it was just me, Karen, and a rotating cast of eight or ten kids who, with their sticky marker-covered hands and mysteriously damp clothes, would greet us by lunging into our arms and leading us into the basement playroom.
From Wanda Farrelly-Johnson. Are we God's Children of Ham? And other Dilemmas of Black Historical Research (Pilot, N.C.: Lizard Ladies Press, 1983):
Tommy's cousin Gabe. Tommy's distant cousin Gabe from Stillwater, Minnesota. Tommy's cousin Gabe, related to my husband through divorce and remarriage, in lieu of actual blood, who arrives on my front porch at dinnertime with a duffel bag and fanny-pack. Industrial-sized.
Dear Doctor X, if I may call you that. Perhaps I should introduce myself.
I met Adam at the bookstore. He was in the section marked Biography/History.
You thought everybody in America had a car and a gun, your uncles and aunts thought so too.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Story Prompts & a Reminder
These daily prompts appear on the bootcampkeegandiaries (lik on the right) and only occasionally here
PROMPTS
A blessing be upon your house
TUBE
A nasty break – my son's – and needing pins
HOMESTEAD
a little gas and air, barbiturates, routine
MAJESTY
quietly close your eyes.
HOW NOT TO BELIEV
The trolley trundles; I pretend
JACOB's LADDER
his hand, mine, confederate, serene
THE RED TELEPHONE
they shroud his eye, his light put out
BLACKER
with sticky juices, half a death, he waits
HELEN OF TRING
through flapping doors to mystery
DELUSION
and all around is cancer, hideous disease
MAO'S LITTLE BOOK OF RECIPES
I did not taste what went into my mouth,
MICROSCOPE, GLASS
"What do YOU want, mother?"
THE COMPLETE SHIRT NOVELS OF SIMON BAREBACK
I am my ownworse nightmare, idiot,
TOWER
I saw his face, I loved it, him
A FIVE-WHEELED CYCLE
I was there in linen, lying, saw
MERRY, MARY, MAYBE
the drugs were cutting in, the pain subsiding, a
BLAST
Once on a moonlight road
PLATE
the deer was broken backed, eyes bulged.
THE RED CHICKEN, THE BLACK
under moon, we went three separate ways
PROMPTS
A blessing be upon your house
TUBE
A nasty break – my son's – and needing pins
HOMESTEAD
a little gas and air, barbiturates, routine
MAJESTY
quietly close your eyes.
HOW NOT TO BELIEV
The trolley trundles; I pretend
JACOB's LADDER
his hand, mine, confederate, serene
THE RED TELEPHONE
they shroud his eye, his light put out
BLACKER
with sticky juices, half a death, he waits
HELEN OF TRING
through flapping doors to mystery
DELUSION
and all around is cancer, hideous disease
MAO'S LITTLE BOOK OF RECIPES
I did not taste what went into my mouth,
MICROSCOPE, GLASS
"What do YOU want, mother?"
THE COMPLETE SHIRT NOVELS OF SIMON BAREBACK
I am my ownworse nightmare, idiot,
TOWER
I saw his face, I loved it, him
A FIVE-WHEELED CYCLE
I was there in linen, lying, saw
MERRY, MARY, MAYBE
the drugs were cutting in, the pain subsiding, a
BLAST
Once on a moonlight road
PLATE
the deer was broken backed, eyes bulged.
THE RED CHICKEN, THE BLACK
under moon, we went three separate ways
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Prompts & a Reminder
These were the story prompts for Saturday 31st, but see below, they are also poetry prompts
PLEASE NOTE that the bootcampkeegandiaries (see link on right) is where BC members post their ongoing Boot Camp experiences andwhere we are also posting prompts, hits etc.
As a lot of today's story-prompts are lines from poems, they are today's poetry prompts too.
try TWO poems, one inspired by, another using (some) actual lines and combining to create new meanings
There is a whole RAFT of good poetry comps this month so GET WRITING
Time wasted and time spent, daytime with used up wit.
PYRAMID
Will you take a seat? The war will soon be over.
RAZOR, LIGHT
I read of a thousand killed.
My Grandfather's Skull
Thick wool is muslin tonight and the wire scorches stone-cold shoulder
PEAS
in the red darkness, through the filtered light
ACID, SMILE, ALKALI, GRIN
There is a SUPREME BEING (in the ethnological section)...
Why Tuesdays are Different
COO-POO
Wher pink thighs flash like the spokes of a wheel
Melt My Medals, Build Something
I offer you my forests and my street cries
DORIAN GRAY
The man who sold aircraft carriers
The Elecdtronic Nature of Desire
our mother is in the night, into the day we flow
Romeo, Romeo, ar you coming or not fer fuck's sake!
in the stump of the ol tree where the heart has rotted out
PLEASE NOTE that the bootcampkeegandiaries (see link on right) is where BC members post their ongoing Boot Camp experiences andwhere we are also posting prompts, hits etc.
As a lot of today's story-prompts are lines from poems, they are today's poetry prompts too.
try TWO poems, one inspired by, another using (some) actual lines and combining to create new meanings
There is a whole RAFT of good poetry comps this month so GET WRITING
Time wasted and time spent, daytime with used up wit.
PYRAMID
Will you take a seat? The war will soon be over.
RAZOR, LIGHT
I read of a thousand killed.
My Grandfather's Skull
Thick wool is muslin tonight and the wire scorches stone-cold shoulder
PEAS
in the red darkness, through the filtered light
ACID, SMILE, ALKALI, GRIN
There is a SUPREME BEING (in the ethnological section)...
Why Tuesdays are Different
COO-POO
Wher pink thighs flash like the spokes of a wheel
Melt My Medals, Build Something
I offer you my forests and my street cries
DORIAN GRAY
The man who sold aircraft carriers
The Elecdtronic Nature of Desire
our mother is in the night, into the day we flow
Romeo, Romeo, ar you coming or not fer fuck's sake!
in the stump of the ol tree where the heart has rotted out
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
AK Articles
I'm posting links to my articles, partly as a source for developing writers but also to invite reaction and discussion. In my time I've stumbled on some appalling articles at various places on the web. Too bad there is no system for marking quality or usefulness!
While I think articles such as these, and similar articles in print (eg The New Writer or Cambrensis) are useful, I believe that we learn much more by responding to articles, debating issues, sharing examples which illustrate points etc. Typically in Boot Camp a thread, on, say, Theme, starts with a question, involves one or more pasted articles, story segments and then a to-and-fro of sometimes 200 or more posts. The learning in such discussion is stratospheric compared to merely reading an article or a chapter of a how-to book.
That being so, respond, discuss, argue.
Alice Munro: The Short Answer
In Lieu of Preference
A Few Introductory Articles from 1997
If you visit Writers Write Archives and scroll down to the oldest editions you'll find this by me in Issue Two, September 1997. Beginner, Don't Write That Novel.
In November 1997 there's Plotting is a Seven Letter Word and in December How to Open Without a Bang.
These are simpler articles and as the years progressed, generally so did the articles. You can browse through the Writers Write Archives, read, consider, then hopefully ask questions, or argue issues here in this blog.
Beginner, Don't Write That Novel.
Plotting is a Seven Letter Word
How to Open Without a Bang
Dialogue, Seven Sins, a Sinner
Tries Hard, Could Do Better
How to Win Short Story Competitions
How to Write a Query Letter That Sells
Point of View From My Point of View
Two Articles on Show-not-Tell
Seduction Not Instruction (Part I)
Seduction Not Instruction (Part II)
Ten-and-a-Half Commandments of Writing
Dealing With Rejection
Two Articles on Setting
Creating the Perfect Setting I
Creating the Perfect Setting II
Four Articles on Editing
Be Your Own Editor: Part I
Be Your Own Editor: Part II
Be Your Own Editor: Part III
Be Your Own Editor: Part IV
The Art of Telling Lies
What is a Short Story?
Advice For the Younger Fiction Writer
Left, Right, Left, Right: Character!
That last article was February 2000, the next (the 23rd) was December 2002
Theme Music: Tone is Not an Accident
Judging Writing Competitions
Quick! Quick!
Stealing Stories
Oh BTW, I'll write a page one day on sick writing sites. If you want to understand, go to the one mentioned in the article above and say you like Alex Keegan's articles...
The Novice Screenwriter Refuses to Conform
Sing to Me
If You Whisper, Convince
Choosing a Writing Teacher
Think Before You Click
Ironing While Watching TV
Creative Writing Myths
How It Is
Contract Bridge and Writing. How to Become a Grand Master
A Cool, Dark Guinness
Choosing a Writing Teacher
I hope 40 articles is enought to be going on with.
Best Wishes
Alex Keegan
While I think articles such as these, and similar articles in print (eg The New Writer or Cambrensis) are useful, I believe that we learn much more by responding to articles, debating issues, sharing examples which illustrate points etc. Typically in Boot Camp a thread, on, say, Theme, starts with a question, involves one or more pasted articles, story segments and then a to-and-fro of sometimes 200 or more posts. The learning in such discussion is stratospheric compared to merely reading an article or a chapter of a how-to book.
That being so, respond, discuss, argue.
Alice Munro: The Short Answer
In Lieu of Preference
A Few Introductory Articles from 1997
If you visit Writers Write Archives and scroll down to the oldest editions you'll find this by me in Issue Two, September 1997. Beginner, Don't Write That Novel.
In November 1997 there's Plotting is a Seven Letter Word and in December How to Open Without a Bang.
These are simpler articles and as the years progressed, generally so did the articles. You can browse through the Writers Write Archives, read, consider, then hopefully ask questions, or argue issues here in this blog.
Beginner, Don't Write That Novel.
Plotting is a Seven Letter Word
How to Open Without a Bang
Dialogue, Seven Sins, a Sinner
Tries Hard, Could Do Better
How to Win Short Story Competitions
How to Write a Query Letter That Sells
Point of View From My Point of View
Two Articles on Show-not-Tell
Seduction Not Instruction (Part I)
Seduction Not Instruction (Part II)
Ten-and-a-Half Commandments of Writing
Dealing With Rejection
Two Articles on Setting
Creating the Perfect Setting I
Creating the Perfect Setting II
Four Articles on Editing
Be Your Own Editor: Part I
Be Your Own Editor: Part II
Be Your Own Editor: Part III
Be Your Own Editor: Part IV
The Art of Telling Lies
What is a Short Story?
Advice For the Younger Fiction Writer
Left, Right, Left, Right: Character!
That last article was February 2000, the next (the 23rd) was December 2002
Theme Music: Tone is Not an Accident
Judging Writing Competitions
Quick! Quick!
Stealing Stories
Oh BTW, I'll write a page one day on sick writing sites. If you want to understand, go to the one mentioned in the article above and say you like Alex Keegan's articles...
The Novice Screenwriter Refuses to Conform
Sing to Me
If You Whisper, Convince
Choosing a Writing Teacher
Think Before You Click
Ironing While Watching TV
Creative Writing Myths
How It Is
Contract Bridge and Writing. How to Become a Grand Master
A Cool, Dark Guinness
Choosing a Writing Teacher
I hope 40 articles is enought to be going on with.
Best Wishes
Alex Keegan
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Clocks Forward, Ever Onward
Did you remember?
Here are today's Boot Camp prompts.
They make me feel like it's time for another 7Q Frantic Flash
These prompts will appear at thebootcampkeegandiaries (see links) and if you come here any morning and there are no prompts, chances are they are ove at tbckd
some good ones today
The Prompts
In some ways I still don't
The difference between a mandarin and a tangerine
Three Consecutive Numbers
Confuscius he say "Woman who cook potatoes and pees in same pot, dirty cow"
The quadratics of hate
Moon
The History Boys
Covered in Mud
The Man Who Put the Stars There is Going Home and Wants Them Back
Notes from the Metro
A Million Writers
The act of love lies somewhere between the belly and the mind..
Ten Million Pixels
How blue a blue do you do?
Drop the Rhino
Death by Piano
in Key West so beautiful people come to see
Coca
dark glasses cheap make-up
OK OK All right already
and alone, waiting, still in the dark
Couple in Amber
The keyboard that read minds
POO
Soundsticks, sound, sticks, sound sticks.
Here are today's Boot Camp prompts.
They make me feel like it's time for another 7Q Frantic Flash
These prompts will appear at thebootcampkeegandiaries (see links) and if you come here any morning and there are no prompts, chances are they are ove at tbckd
some good ones today
The Prompts
In some ways I still don't
The difference between a mandarin and a tangerine
Three Consecutive Numbers
Confuscius he say "Woman who cook potatoes and pees in same pot, dirty cow"
The quadratics of hate
Moon
The History Boys
Covered in Mud
The Man Who Put the Stars There is Going Home and Wants Them Back
Notes from the Metro
A Million Writers
The act of love lies somewhere between the belly and the mind..
Ten Million Pixels
How blue a blue do you do?
Drop the Rhino
Death by Piano
in Key West so beautiful people come to see
Coca
dark glasses cheap make-up
OK OK All right already
and alone, waiting, still in the dark
Couple in Amber
The keyboard that read minds
POO
Soundsticks, sound, sticks, sound sticks.
Friday, March 23, 2007
A Few Prompts and a Heads Up
Take a look when you can at The BootCamp Diaries (see link on the right).
The URL is http://thebootcampkeegandiaries.blogspot.com/
It's more than possible that daily prompts from BC will appear there. You can also pick up a flavour of the daily activity that goes on there, how members cope with the ups and downs of being a writer.
Here are the Poetry Prompts. Story prompts at the other place
I CHALLENGE Caroline today, and you JOEL.
one of these, or the wrath of Khan
1 A poem with Magic, Beginner(s), Link, a colour.
2 A poem about infidelity that doesn't mention man, woman, husband, wife, or the infidelity
3 A poem or short poetic flash that incorporates and makes different, a nursery rhyme
4 Write a poem that inverts its meaning by the end.
5 Write a what-am-I poem (a poem that describes something and the reader has to work out what) One of these about an anchor, won Bridport one year.
The URL is http://thebootcampkeegandiaries.blogspot.com/
It's more than possible that daily prompts from BC will appear there. You can also pick up a flavour of the daily activity that goes on there, how members cope with the ups and downs of being a writer.
Here are the Poetry Prompts. Story prompts at the other place
I CHALLENGE Caroline today, and you JOEL.
one of these, or the wrath of Khan
1 A poem with Magic, Beginner(s), Link, a colour.
2 A poem about infidelity that doesn't mention man, woman, husband, wife, or the infidelity
3 A poem or short poetic flash that incorporates and makes different, a nursery rhyme
4 Write a poem that inverts its meaning by the end.
5 Write a what-am-I poem (a poem that describes something and the reader has to work out what) One of these about an anchor, won Bridport one year.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
The Boot Camp Diaries
"The Boot Camp Diaries" blog now has the full name and address
http://thebootcampkeegandiaries.blogspot.com/
I was amazed how many address clashes I had. I had to add the keegan to make it unique.
So if you have bookmarked before this time and date your link might not work.
Alex
http://thebootcampkeegandiaries.blogspot.com/
I was amazed how many address clashes I had. I had to add the keegan to make it unique.
So if you have bookmarked before this time and date your link might not work.
Alex
ON GOD...
Thinking about it, maybe "HE" does worketh in mythterious wayth
First I intended to go to that game, but decided to save the fuel costs (and the planet) because it was on TV and we were likely to lose and my girl would have been on her own for an hour until Mum got home..
Then BANG! Power-cut.
Had I gone Deb & Bridie would have been sat in the dark for two hours.
They would never understand how to light a candle...
So me and PJ played poker by candlelight, Deb & Bridie spent forever in the bathroom with candles flickering
Now last night and today the emails on the footie site are so angry about the game saying it was simply awful, gutless, embarrassing.
So I would have come home, moaning, wishing I hadn't gone, walked in in a bad mood (and then have been blamed for the power cut)
Thanks, G.
First I intended to go to that game, but decided to save the fuel costs (and the planet) because it was on TV and we were likely to lose and my girl would have been on her own for an hour until Mum got home..
Then BANG! Power-cut.
Had I gone Deb & Bridie would have been sat in the dark for two hours.
They would never understand how to light a candle...
So me and PJ played poker by candlelight, Deb & Bridie spent forever in the bathroom with candles flickering
Now last night and today the emails on the footie site are so angry about the game saying it was simply awful, gutless, embarrassing.
So I would have come home, moaning, wishing I hadn't gone, walked in in a bad mood (and then have been blamed for the power cut)
Thanks, G.
Thursday's Prompts
A load of prompts today, and five picture prompts.
Can you mix and match?
What happens if you take at least three items or choose things that "can't" go together?
THE PROMPTS
I was at a loose end and thought I'd walk into town, browse the bookshops and have a long leisurely lunch in Pierre Victoire's.
In an ordinary green field, in middle England, a cow.
After he had died—suddenly and very surprisingly as it turned out...
She has told you to run to daddy and you do.
I remember you talking about the trams, the way they were always full, the way they clanged.
It is Winter, lightless morning, here in the shallow city, soundless and shipwreck-grey,
The apartment is bare, the walls a cheap cream over stains
The ticket-collector is a darkie.
At the front of the bus, well two or three seats in front of me, my first wife was sitting
Running bootsteps crash-splatter past the open pub door
Oh, Beth, my lover, try to laugh.
Behind me the mountains, in front, the sea.
You must lie, it's what you do.
Drunk one night – the bar stank of cheap weed
Sarah has set off from her cottage, slightly downhill,
He stopped for coffee, amazed he could feel so empty
I am the Bastard William
Raining. My wife comes in from work
He began by trying to be nice, but this monster was eating class time.
When I was fourteen I was flying a yellow kite.
Can you mix and match?
What happens if you take at least three items or choose things that "can't" go together?
THE PROMPTS
I was at a loose end and thought I'd walk into town, browse the bookshops and have a long leisurely lunch in Pierre Victoire's.
In an ordinary green field, in middle England, a cow.
After he had died—suddenly and very surprisingly as it turned out...
She has told you to run to daddy and you do.
I remember you talking about the trams, the way they were always full, the way they clanged.
It is Winter, lightless morning, here in the shallow city, soundless and shipwreck-grey,
The apartment is bare, the walls a cheap cream over stains
The ticket-collector is a darkie.
At the front of the bus, well two or three seats in front of me, my first wife was sitting
Running bootsteps crash-splatter past the open pub door
Oh, Beth, my lover, try to laugh.
Behind me the mountains, in front, the sea.
You must lie, it's what you do.
Drunk one night – the bar stank of cheap weed
Sarah has set off from her cottage, slightly downhill,
He stopped for coffee, amazed he could feel so empty
I am the Bastard William
Raining. My wife comes in from work
He began by trying to be nice, but this monster was eating class time.
When I was fourteen I was flying a yellow kite.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Openings: TITLES
Bland, uninteresting, vague or generic titles.
The Dream
The Funeral
John's Story
One Good Turn
Seeing Red
Remembering
The Party
Before the Party
After the Party
Happy Ever After
Counting Your Chickens
Spring
The Trip
You should understand that an editor or a judge gets hundreds of stories with boring, uninteresting, draggy, uninspiring titles, titles which give very little sense of the story.
And if we don't think the writer has tried very hard to create a good title, why should we think they will have tried hard to create a worthwhile story?
WHAT ABOUT?
The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber
Meredith Toop Evans & His Butty Ernie the Egg
My Dead Brother Comes to America
The Bastard William Williams
The Resemblance Between a Violin Case and a Coffin
The White Hunter's First Man
The Things They Carried
HP, Cedric and the Flying Saucer in Camden High Street
The Best Girlfriend You Never Had
Tomatoes, Flamingos, Lemmings & Other Interesting Facts
Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?
The Last Love Letter of Berwyn Phillip Price
The Ruining of Bridget O'Malley
Seven Hills, a Postman, Silly Money
and so on...
A good title doesn't make a bad story good, nor an ordinary story noticeably better, but at least, if it intrigues it keep that editor or judge awake a little longer.
Now if a title also has sparkle, and/or gives a good idea of the story's content, or indicates a certain mood or attitude, that's a huge plus.
alx
The Dream
The Funeral
John's Story
One Good Turn
Seeing Red
Remembering
The Party
Before the Party
After the Party
Happy Ever After
Counting Your Chickens
Spring
The Trip
You should understand that an editor or a judge gets hundreds of stories with boring, uninteresting, draggy, uninspiring titles, titles which give very little sense of the story.
And if we don't think the writer has tried very hard to create a good title, why should we think they will have tried hard to create a worthwhile story?
WHAT ABOUT?
The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber
Meredith Toop Evans & His Butty Ernie the Egg
My Dead Brother Comes to America
The Bastard William Williams
The Resemblance Between a Violin Case and a Coffin
The White Hunter's First Man
The Things They Carried
HP, Cedric and the Flying Saucer in Camden High Street
The Best Girlfriend You Never Had
Tomatoes, Flamingos, Lemmings & Other Interesting Facts
Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?
The Last Love Letter of Berwyn Phillip Price
The Ruining of Bridget O'Malley
Seven Hills, a Postman, Silly Money
and so on...
A good title doesn't make a bad story good, nor an ordinary story noticeably better, but at least, if it intrigues it keep that editor or judge awake a little longer.
Now if a title also has sparkle, and/or gives a good idea of the story's content, or indicates a certain mood or attitude, that's a huge plus.
alx
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