After all the lovely comments on my previous piece, Knit one Purl One, I thought I’d put up the second part of the writing exercise from the other day. It’s called The Golden Moose Café and picks up the story later in the afternoon of the day the first story is set in. Hope you enjoy! Mike Advertisements
Another writing exercise from the Neil Gaiman The Art of Storytelling Masterclass. The prompt I selected was ‘Two old women sitting together knitting on a park bench.” Beyond grammar checking and a light polish, this is what my brain came up with. Knit one, Purl One is after the break
It’s been many a long day since I last posted in here, I had no idea. Quick update: Still sober, still cigarette free, still working from home so not much has changed in the last 2 years. I have been working on my novel, and I’m currently undertaking the Art of Storytelling Masterclass led by Neil Gaiman on Masterclass.com. This little story was one of the writing exercises. With it, you had to take a favourite fairy/folk tale and re-write it from the perspective of a different character as a newspaper article. The story I chose was The Princess and the Pea and the article is written, from the perspective of the mattress salesman who gets an order for 20 luxury feather mattresses to be delivered to the palace. Hope you enjoy, Mike The short story, Local Mattress Salesman Hits the Big Time, is after the cut.
Well it has been a while. Not since I wrote a blog, I did that yesterday, but since I wrote a blog that focused on why Writing in Shadows was created in the first place. I started this blog several years ago to write about the process of writing. Back then, as a young whipper-snapper of 40, I had dreams of writing a novel. Maybe a movie. Perhaps a series. Definitely more than a shopping list.
Everyone knows the benefits of ditching the cigarettes. Hell, the negative consequences are published in graphic pictures all over the boxes, so if you don’t know the main benefit associated to smoking is to quit them you’re slower than I am.
I’m a bit of a Johnny-Come-Lately to the world of Doctor Who. I remember as a kid watching it with Grandfather but I never bothered with the reboot until I got Netflix last year. The Australian selection of TV options was limited, to put it politely, so Doctor Who it was. I rather liked it. I must have I’ve watched all the available seasons twice.
I can’t remember a Christmas over the past decade or so that hasn’t ended in tears. The overwhelming sense of life passing me by, people who once were so important gone forever, family members who were the life of the party silenced.
I have to go on record in saying 2016 has been a pretty dismal year. On a world scale we’ve got wars and terrorism all over the place. On a personal scale I’ve been made redundant (again) and the depression I’ve been dealing with seems to be gaining ground on me lately. Frankly the sooner it’s over, the better.
When I was a young boy at school we were taught to describe, using lots of words, when we wrote stories. Essays, stories, reports, everything was done to a word count. Padding became second nature and as an adult ‘would-be’ novelist, it’s a trend I’ve continued.
I wrote this short story last year in a fit of creativity. I originally submitted it to a competition but it wasn’t right for them. Having read some of the winners pieces I can see why. It was a very different path taken to the winners and those who placed. I’m considering submitting another attempt this year. But in the meantime I have a short 600-odd word story, so I thought I’d put it up here. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do leave a comment. Hell, even if you don’t leave a comment. Constructive feedback is always welcome.