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  1. The secret is out

    Last year I blogged about a sequel I wrote to my favorite book by my favorite author. He never "exactly" wrote sequels, never did for his earlier work, and he died in 1988.

    I'd always wanted a sequel to a few of his books written in the 50s, particularly "Citizen of the Galaxy".

    So, last spring, for my own benefit, I had some time and wrote that sequel. A member of the Board of The Heinlein Society agreed to read it, and responded that I "must" pursue publication. He thought ...

    I'm heading to bumblefuck PA to work on an LP with a former associate of mine, and I'm gonna use the time there to focus on composing as much of my own music as humanly possible.

    If things go well, this album I'm going to work on will be released by or before the end of the year.

    I also intend to finish composing and recording demos of at least 16 more songs of my own over the next few months.

    Things are kind of moving along atm so I'm somewhat hopeful ...
  3. A 20 Year Old Story Rewritten

    by , March 3rd, 2021 at 10:59 AM (Scrawlings From The East)
    Shallows Deep

    For the third time in as many minutes, Susan appraised herself in the full-length mirror, noting the lack of curve and the dumpiness of a face so her. ‘Ordinary’ was a word she heard behind closed doors, when the whisperer thought she slept, or at school, when the other girls caught her eavesdropping. Hour upon hour, she practised her smile, but the gloom snuck out through her eyes.

    The day had been like any other. A moon sat swollen

    Updated March 3rd, 2021 at 12:45 PM by TheMightyAz

  4. A blog about ABOUT

    About Blocks.jpg

    As much as I've studied to fine tune my writing over the last many years, I don't stop. Obviously, I don't run into as many new tips as I used to, but when I do I take them seriously.

    One I ran into several weeks ago is to take "estimates" out of fiction.

    Instead of writing "Sally stood about 15 feet away", go with "Sally stood 15 feet away". The reader doesn't care if it was 14 feet, and since we're making it up anyway, if we ...

    Updated March 1st, 2021 at 06:32 PM by vranger

  5. A Story For Another Time

    by , February 27th, 2021 at 12:28 AM (Scrawlings From The East)
    The Glass Tulip

    The fallow child did not know he cast a shadow. It rested profoundly on his story, diminished the colours—warped them. The earth, the heavens, and everything between, left him detached, bereft of wonder. But Tommy did not know.

    His clothes reflected the same perspective: faded denim jeans and jacket, grey V-necked jumper, and white shirt, buttoned to the very top. Plimsolls, once white with blue edging, now scuffed and discoloured by frequent
  6. All done but the cover (mostly)

    Cover candidates.jpg

    After a long several days of edits on my first read through, proofreading with my app, and then additional adjustments after I took the manuscript from Scrivener to Word, I have a manuscript fit for others to see. There might be a few typos left, but I try to get it down to what I've read are NY house standards ... approximately seven or fewer for a full length novel. Then the first few readers fill those in.

    Now I have to work on a cover, ...
    Attached Thumbnails Attached Images
  7. Happy Birthday, Holly!

    Quote Originally Posted by James Hercules Sutton View Post

    You wouldn’t think of it as a warm fuzzy place; it’s a bank, after all. But it’s been having hard times, and morale is low. So when the day began, a supervisor sent an e-mail that read, “Happy Birthday, Holly” and copied it to Holly’s co-workers, asking them to wish likewise.

    It wasn’t long before they responded in grand style. Holly was a cheerful sort, and they were ready to cheer her up. Each sent Holly an e-mail wishing her
  8. A Short Horror Story

    by , February 18th, 2021 at 11:47 AM (Scrawlings From The East)
    The Mirror Man

    For three weeks, all the mirrors in my house had been turned to face the wall. Perhaps, I speculated, he would lose interest and leave me alone. He had been there all along of course, but I never really considered him anything more than a figment of my imagination. I pictured him sniggering at my inability to exorcise him, waiting and waiting for that day when I could pluck up the courage to face him again. Today was that day.

    Oh yes, I thought

    Updated February 28th, 2021 at 01:54 PM by TheMightyAz

  9. The House That Love Built

    A home
    for my family
    turned to dust before my eyes
    A loss
    I rock
    finding a new path
    Foreign road
    picking up pieces along the way
    To my children’s new home.
  10. To end or not to end?

    thoughtful.jpgI've been at a sticking point in my WIP for a couple of days now.

    I'm near the end of the novel (98K words of a planned approximately 100K).

    * I've just wrapped up three subplots.

    * I have two minor plot points I might address, or I might touch on them and leave their resolution for a possible sequel ... these are character arcs.

    * I have one subplot left to address, but like the character arcs, I could touch on it ...
  11. How happy is your story?

    We've been having a raging debate in the Tips and Tricks Forum about "Smiles in Writing". It started as complaint by Foxee about an author who wrote a weird scene about a character smiling a lot where it didn't seem to fit. Foxee's post and a few which followed were tongue in cheek, but of course it could not stay that way. It soon got serious:

    Time to put ...

    Updated February 11th, 2021 at 04:46 PM by vranger

  12. He Tries

    He tries
    to control me
    my life
    to find me
    to manage me
    to threaten me
    He scares me
    To take things from me
    My Children
    My home
    Our money
    My sanity
    I live in fear
    He wants to hurt me.
    he tries.
    he tries.
    He will not.
  13. Buried Beneath (WIP)

    So, I've hit a bit of a wall with this.

    In the past two sessions, I worked on a logical rhythm to follow, and last time, the bass player and I managed to work out something cohesive but not practical for the following section.

    I should hopefully be able to play again on Monday, so I'm gonna try to put this bitch together SOON.
  14. A Poem For The Disenfranchised

    by , February 6th, 2021 at 08:27 AM (Scrawlings From The East)
    Fag and a can

    Got me sen a fag and a can
    Two black eyes cos I’m the man
    Tattoos and dots on me face
    Scars and jeans to hide me grace
    Sovereign rings on every knuckle
    Think we’re cool but our mover’s chuckle
    Payin’ through their eyes and nose
    So we can trash it with the bros
    Shake it out and strut our stuff
    Violence is a poor man’s bluff

    Got me sen a fag and a can
    A girlfriend and a brand new pram

    Updated February 18th, 2021 at 11:50 AM by TheMightyAz

  15. A Sea Shanty Poem

    by , February 4th, 2021 at 11:59 PM (Scrawlings From The East)
    Bumbling Burrow

    In bumbling’ burrow of barrowill wood
    Where the bumblebee Bernard was mumbling
    An oath of a groat for cutting ones throat
    While kicking a juggler jugglin’

    “I swear I will kill’ ‘im,” he spat while a-swillin’
    And croonered a pooch name of saphron
    The swirls of her hair shished shoulders of pearl
    As she pranced by the splash of a lantern

    Now Bernard’s big belly was fizzlin’ and swelly
    Cos he’d gulped

    Updated February 5th, 2021 at 02:30 PM by PiP

  16. An experimental narrative poem

    by , February 4th, 2021 at 11:32 PM (Scrawlings From The East)
    Coats For Wings

    I watch the others from the window of my second floor flat, engaged – as they often are – in aimless chitchat. They have scripted intent and are preoccupied with the humdrum activities that stuff an ordinary life. I envy those flat stones, the way they skim across the surface of this vast, bottomless ocean.

    I lift a cigarette to my mouth and hold it steady for exactly three beats before drawing. Smoke fills my lungs and gathers there, before

    Updated February 18th, 2021 at 11:52 AM by TheMightyAz

  17. Fear

    We all have fears.
    It’s an inborn trait.
    We must know fear to survive.
    To a certain extent.
    If I touch the pot without a mitt my hand will burn.
    What about unseen fear
    A seed planted in ones mind to grow
    They water the seed with whispers of failure
    How the seed had no chance of growing,,,sprouting.
    They own your fear 6E0E0571-801E-497D-838E-FF0C7C6EA96E.jpg
  18. Longest Night

    I am a mom.
    It’s my life. I know all mom’s say that. And it’s true. Our children,,,for me anyway,,,are the most important part of my life. I conceived them. I carried them. I birthed them. I nursed them. Carried them on my back or front,,,sometimes both as I have 8 children. So I have seen a lot. Happy tears, sad tears, sickness, diagnosis of certain food allergies,,,one heart defect. I thought this little mamma had seen most everything until last week Wed night as my 15 yr old second son ...
  19. " Google Keep " Block notes, for quick notes.

    I discovered this service, Google, totally free.
    You can use it, on all devices, using your Gmail.
    The advantage of this application, what I like:
    is the ability to use it anywhere, with the same account.
    I use it when I'm not at the PC.
    I get an idea, I'll write it on my cell phone if I'm not at home.
    I can also use them on the Tablet.
    I find it at home, on the pc. I just need to copy and paste afterwards.
    At home I copy everything on Scrivener. ...
  20. Christmas present

    by , December 21st, 2020 at 04:26 PM (Each n every day)
    Local radio had a phone in about naff crimbo presents and one caller said...on my dinner break I went to get tickets for Johnny Mathis at the Liverpool Empire for me mum because every year she always said my favourite Christmas song was when a child is born....when Christmas Eve arrived all the family met up in the pub for a drink and the song came on and he said to his mum thats the song you love and his mum replied...I like this song but a can't stand him.
  21. The cocktail of despair

    The cocktail of despair [ADULT SWEARING ADVISION]

    The Cocktail of Despair.
    Trouble brewed in our airs.
    • Chastisement of wife for her securement of obese Christmas tree.
    • Supermarket pizza.

    ‘Firstly You buy a fat Christmas tree, and then, woman, expect me to dine upon Sainsbury’s staff spread pizza? Do you want me to die?’ I said not unreasonably after my six day endurance of night shifting at the psychiatric pole.
    Regular readers
  22. Slice of Diary

    Slice of Diary

    The foghorn moans through the white sky.

    The land is grey, of pebble-dash, and is saturated and sad. Both man and a dog scamper over cliff top before the fall, and there unseen at the base of a cliff lies the cagoule, his face placed in the stones. The dog barks, mad, bad, back and forth he climbs the cliff face, chases obscene scent of nothing, chases his tail.

    ‘Over here, good boy,’ I cry from my window ledge, yet the fog occludes [hew]
  23. MOTHER

    This is home where I scribble. Sometimes I live there a lot. When things are rocky I close the site down, like when I embarrass myself, y'know, or when the despair rings my every rocking. In my rocker. My rocker ringed in black ribbon, black dog at my knee, black Peter visiting once a year, Black Betty every night, black powder piled in my cellar.


    Love, Betty
  24. Christmas Dinner 2020

    Christmas Dinner 2020

    by brightonsauce

    dr1, 20 minutes, will transform toward great novel, in literature. Group gargle scene is presently in progress…

    Christmas Dinner 2020

    Ethel and Frank stood in the porch, the many wrapped gifts at their feet.

    ‘Well Ethel, finally, and finally the opportunity to dispense these fine boxes from Amazon.’

    ‘From Santa,’ chided Ethel. ‘We made it, Honey for Christmas with the family.’

    Updated November 20th, 2020 at 02:33 PM by Matchu

  25. A Letter Home

    by , November 18th, 2020 at 11:49 PM (A Creative Spirit in Portugal)
    In February, I joined a local writing group which we managed to keep alive via Zoom once the Coronavirus struck. One of our assignments was to write a letter.

    Hi Mum,

    We have finally arrived in the Moorish town of Aljezur on the West Coast of Portugal. Despite Dad’s reservations, Jason’s decrepit, converted bus served us well as both a means of transport and accommodation. However, Dad was right about one thing: I do miss my creature comforts such as regular showers and ...
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