Keeping at it….

I’ve had a rather quiet time of it writing wise lately- but I’ve just heard from editor, Rosemary Kind that she is publishing 2 out of the 3 short stories I sent in to her-The Resurrection of the Reverend Greswold and Never Judge a Book by its Cover which is set in the nearby world heritage site Saltaire and Leeds.

I am delighted 🙂 because I’ve rewritten both stories a few times and thought I had improved them; this validates my efforts. I find writing 2-4000 stories hard/tricky – both because of the length and the structuring and keeping it interesting- so I take hours and hours to put one out there. My output is therefore quite small.

Patsy Collins, super duper blogger and short story writer, tipped me off about a free Flash Fiction comp at The Third Word (80 words is all you have to nail your tale) which runs bi monthly comps- I’ve had a go with one called Mermaid.

I’ve also rejoined the WEA Otley creative writing class run by poet/tutor James Nash after a break of several months. I hope it will re energise my writing juices. The group is supportive and fun, a lovely bunch of people Believe me not all writing groups/classes are like that!

I’ve also been reading horror short stories from the magazine Supernatural Tales edited by David Longhorn which you can buy for 99p off amazon kindle or sub to the mag-. The stories are all well written, some are just brilliant, the scope of imagination and chills is wide and effective- it’s my current fave.

Here’s a 100 worder :-inspired by me singing Faure in Lancaster Priory on spec- but I didn’t see a ghost that day.


Standing at the rear of Lancaster Abbey, together but apart, we absorb Faure into our beings. The white gowned choir’s voices soar as one harmonious entity. Enthralled, you start to float upwards while the Requiem reaches its crescendo. Tugging at your hem, I fail to bring you back to earth. I know the congregation will notice you soon. You hover above the choristers’ heads, mouthing the soprano part you learnt in life. Oh my love, my Joy it is time to let you go. One of the boys looks up, sees your white shroud poised above him, screams and faints.



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