Wednesday, 9 May 2012

It started with a kiss…

The second hand on the kitchen clock jumped, and then juddered toward the next marker. Another second ticked passed. His chin rested on her gleaming smooth brunette hair. He inhaled. The scent was potent. She smelled of freshly shampooed hair.

It was now or never. This was his chance to find out and he couldn’t let this chance slip by. With his index finger extended he raised her chin, beamed, a big broad smile and let his lips drift across her forehead. As his mouth brushed and touched her skin he steadied his nerve. His caress stayed fixed. Desire grew. Then he moved even slower as his lips brushed playful over one eyebrow before he settled, rested against the other. He planted the softest kiss, and he waver, unsure how she would react as he traced his nose along the ridge of her nose. John kissed the tip of it lightly. Then held his breath as his lips hovered above her philtrum, its definition had hooked him in the moment he saw her. It was distinct, a perfect spot to kiss a girl. His tongue hovered above the dip. He hoped it was a sign she was into sex in a big way. The lightest of kisses chased along her cheek bone until he nuzzled close to her ear lobe.

‘You smell divine. I could devour you.’

Resistance was futile. He wanted her. Needed to know what she tasted like, sweet or sour. Their lips locked. A soft vulnerable touch that grew tighter as he pressed his lips hard against hers. He pulled her close, into his body. Held her tight. He couldn’t stop himself. Yet he was convinced he’d bruised her lips. She tasted lovable.

‘Oh shit, sorry mate, didn’t know anyone was…’

They sprang apart. John felt tongue-tied. Frustrated. The unknown intruder left. John looked at this brunette. He took one step closer.

‘You’ve been gone ages... Where’s that drink you promised to get me?’

The harsh tone of his wife’s voice rankled. John turned. Reluctant. Picked up the glass of wine and his pint and walked towards his wife. In the harsh kitchen light John clearly saw her plunging neckline that revealed more than was decent. His wife’s breasts on display like over ripe fruit at a street market fruit and veg stall. Where she had sat, her tight mini skirt had ridden up at the front, ruched into a mass of crumpled untidy fabric and the severity of her bleached blond hair reminded him that the last thing he ever wanted was to smell his wife’s brand of shampoo.

Tuesday, 8 May 2012

Cracking an egg or two

My brother has a knack of cracking an egg on to a pizza and cooking it and voila, a beautiful baked egg is delivered atop the pizza. Last night I thought I’d copy his trick and top off my lack lustre shop bought pizza with an egg.

And yes you’ve guessed it, the result was not dissimilar to a minor disaster.

The egg, obviously not fresh enough, ran away from the pizza, slipped and slid through the open fretwork of the pizza tray and disassembled itself across several rungs of wire shelves, an empty dish and on to the gas flame to be burned off, skilfully.

It made me laugh, it made me cry!

And this seems to be where my experience of entering my work into writing competitions in real life reflects small unrelated events at home. Whilst I know I can not please everybody most of the time I don’t seem to achieve the desired outcome when I deliver my work to a writing competition. It just doesn’t seem to be my thing. Well… not yet.

This week I’ve received three refusals, and whilst all emails were well written and well intended, ‘the standard was high, the volume of entries too great to allow a personal response/critique, don’t be downhearted, etc,’ it left me feeling… c’est la vie!

So I’m trying not to be down hearted and I’ve no right to be crestfallen as the lovely people at Ether Books have published another short story of mine this week. For this I’m extremely grateful. But there are times when my work does feel like that egg, the one that slipped away, got lost in the flames of aspiration.

I’d love to know how you get on in writing competition’s and wonder how you feel about the responses?

Monday, 7 May 2012

Reflecting on A to Z Challenge 2012

My aim for my Blog posts ‘@1-Lovelife:’ during the ‘a to z challenge’ was to write about subjects that have inspired or encouraged me to write and then share these writing experiences. So here is my list of my ‘a to z titles’ that I wrote about last month.

A… was for…Adventure / B… was for… Belief / C… was for… Colour / D… was for… Disappointment / E… was for… Elation / F… was for… Flash Fiction / G… was for… Games / H… was for… History / I… was for… If / J… was for… Journey / K… was for… Kind / L… was for… Lust for Life / M… was for… Micro-fiction / N… was for… Now / O… was for… Objects of desire
P… was for… Positive Feedback / Q… was for… Queen for a day / R… was for… Romantic Novelist / S… was for… Senses / T… was for… Titles / U… was for… Undefeated / V… was for… Victories / W… was for… Wedding gift / X… was for… ‘X-factor’ / Y… was for… Yours truly / Z… was for… Z’s

Overall I would rate the experience as a very enjoyable time because the challenge made me focus on maintaining my Blog. I gained me new followers for which I am very grateful. And this challenge introduced me to new bloggers and new twitter mates so a benefit all round really. I don’t think there was a downside as such except time was the biggest enemy. Would I do it again? Yes… in a heartbeat!

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

I live in a drought zone… apparently.

I live in a drought zone… apparently.

Do I? Really! A drought zone – how is that possible?

I live in a village, in the middle of nowhere, on the road to somewhere, bisected by two main roads. A few years ago a by-pass was built to alleviate the traffic congestion. The land freed up between the village and the by-pass became building land. Overnight the village doubled in size. It will continue to double in size as more houses are built, in an economy where apparently it is almost impossible to get a mortgage, yet more families arrive and put more pressure on an ailing water system in a drought zone.

Whilst I appreciate that the complexity of a drought are subtle… it rains. It keeps raining. More rain is forecast. April was declared the wettest month on record since records began, around a hundred years ago! Cows retreat, seek higher ground; their pasture disappears beneath acres and acres of artificial lakes. Brown muddied waters pours off fields, floods roads, ditches over filled spill their surplus capacity across lanes, torrents of rainwater fill the drains, fountains of water spring up through the tarmac an yet apparently I live in a drought zone.

Yesterday a man lost his life when he tried to cross a section of water. He did not make it safely to the other side, yet he tried to traverse this flooded road.

I am certain that if I lived in Africa, in a barren wasteland that had not seen rainwater for many years I would understand the fullest meaning of the word, drought.

1. A long period of abnormally low rainfall, especially one that adversely affects growing or living conditions.
2. A prolonged dearth or shortage. ‘a drought of good writing’
3. A period of dry weather, especially a long one that is injurious to crops.
4. Archaic . Thirst.

So how is it that I remain convinced, that we misuse this word on a daily basis? Why is that we do not use alternative phrases, or more valid descriptions, to describe more accurately this current situation? What will it take for us to improve the way we collect water. Every where I look I see water.

When will we decide to use the correct wording to describe what is happening now, as I would not want to live here when this area is declared a ‘flood zone.’