I have decided to declare September: ‘Submissions’ Month.
Why?
This summer I’ve been in the doldrums a bit and struggled with lower than average energy levels and I came to realise that if I don’t submit my work to various platforms then no one will get to see it and read it, and that would be a shame as I’ve invested a huge amount of my time and effort and energy to get my thoughts and ideas out of my head and on the page.
I’m going to be proactive and do more research, look for outlets to send my work to and I will use the internet and twitter to track down these opportunities.
As to how many pieces I will get submitted I have not determined a figure yet but if I could get one piece of work delivered each week then that would be one piece more than I managed during the summer!
So it’s time I stopped dreaming, wishing, thinking and reading and time to start acting upon my own good advice. I have one piece that I am determined to place, although I’m not sure where yet but some where as it is almost ready to go. Therefore I must stop prevaricating and get it submitted… wish me luck.
I’ll let you know how this pans out even if it’s not great news…
Goodwood
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Monday, 5 September 2011
Grieving my loss:
My lovely dad died two years ago today. And each day, since he passed, I remember him with much fondness.
He would be 75 now. A fit and active man, I never knew my dad to be ill. So when he was diagnosed it came as a nasty shock, especially to my dad. He did all the right things, followed good medical advice and still his life ended far sooner than expected.
My dad was, ‘the best dad,’ a girl could have! I know how lucky I was to have known him. He was always there for me, and I miss this reassurance more than you can know.
We didn’t always see eye-to-eye: on occasions we could argue, and those heated debates gosh they were fascinating, and invaluable and probably went along way to strengthening our relationship.
He was a capable man, whether he wore his white collar to the office or tackled a hands on job at home wearing his blue collar. He came from a generation that seemed adept and adaptable to the changing world. He loved his apple Mac. It drove me mad and still does… as sadly I’m not going to be a Mac fan. He worked hard and he was lucky, he was never out of work, and worked for a single employer all of his adult life. He rode a motorbike and loved to play Rugby, until an injury stopped that game. He gardened and he wrote books and was the only man who could burn water!
When he read a book, he kept a notepad and pen at his side ready to record words that he did not yet know, he was a wordsmith and a grammarian. It used to drive me nuts, having my written work edited… but oh, how I wish I’d paid more attention.
We shared this love of words and if we both heard the newscaster read a mistake we would clock it and acknowledge it instantly… ‘No surely he didn’t mean that…’ then we would collapse into a private world of mirth and merriment as we spiralled almost out of control, discussing who knows what! It only ever made sense to us in that moment and how I wish I could hear my father laugh one more time…
He left behind a wife of more than fifty years of shared married experiences, four children and seven grandchildren. During the summer, at 72 he laid 100 paving slabs to create a new patio area at the bottom of the garden. His 73rd year was his last, spent in hospital and at finally at home for end stage palliative care.
The drive to the hospice two years ago today was the least hurried drive of my life. I already knew what to expect when I arrived but I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him in death.
When you have witnessed a hard fought struggle, a constant battle to live in the face of inordinate odds, you gain a new found respect for life.
My dad had to fight for every breath, literally. He had lung cancer. He never smoked.
One day I asked him why he battled: ‘To see the trees, the sky, the sun…’
He would be 75 now. A fit and active man, I never knew my dad to be ill. So when he was diagnosed it came as a nasty shock, especially to my dad. He did all the right things, followed good medical advice and still his life ended far sooner than expected.
My dad was, ‘the best dad,’ a girl could have! I know how lucky I was to have known him. He was always there for me, and I miss this reassurance more than you can know.
We didn’t always see eye-to-eye: on occasions we could argue, and those heated debates gosh they were fascinating, and invaluable and probably went along way to strengthening our relationship.
He was a capable man, whether he wore his white collar to the office or tackled a hands on job at home wearing his blue collar. He came from a generation that seemed adept and adaptable to the changing world. He loved his apple Mac. It drove me mad and still does… as sadly I’m not going to be a Mac fan. He worked hard and he was lucky, he was never out of work, and worked for a single employer all of his adult life. He rode a motorbike and loved to play Rugby, until an injury stopped that game. He gardened and he wrote books and was the only man who could burn water!
When he read a book, he kept a notepad and pen at his side ready to record words that he did not yet know, he was a wordsmith and a grammarian. It used to drive me nuts, having my written work edited… but oh, how I wish I’d paid more attention.
We shared this love of words and if we both heard the newscaster read a mistake we would clock it and acknowledge it instantly… ‘No surely he didn’t mean that…’ then we would collapse into a private world of mirth and merriment as we spiralled almost out of control, discussing who knows what! It only ever made sense to us in that moment and how I wish I could hear my father laugh one more time…
He left behind a wife of more than fifty years of shared married experiences, four children and seven grandchildren. During the summer, at 72 he laid 100 paving slabs to create a new patio area at the bottom of the garden. His 73rd year was his last, spent in hospital and at finally at home for end stage palliative care.
The drive to the hospice two years ago today was the least hurried drive of my life. I already knew what to expect when I arrived but I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him in death.
When you have witnessed a hard fought struggle, a constant battle to live in the face of inordinate odds, you gain a new found respect for life.
My dad had to fight for every breath, literally. He had lung cancer. He never smoked.
One day I asked him why he battled: ‘To see the trees, the sky, the sun…’
Thursday, 1 September 2011
Isn’t it great when you carried away by a story?
I have a dilemma: I’m reading a book and I can’t put it down. I’ve actually considered cancelling attending a family do, as I would rather sit and read this book that has hooked me in… isn’t that a terrible admission to make?
I’m reading, let me re-phrase that, gobbling down: ‘The Girl who played with Fire’ and I am addicted. Funny that: as I’m not usually keen on violent political thrillers.
The pace is fantastic, I want to read and turn the page at the same time, I ignore the phone and god help anyone who dares to disturb me and knocks the front door. I think I may greet them very sourly…
Several of my friends husbands recommended that I read ‘The Girl with the Dragoon Tattoo’ so it was added to my ‘to-be-read-list’ but I was in no hurry as my list is for ever growing and then by chance, recently, I watched the film.
Well for a girl who does not like scary films… I used to hide behind the sofa when Dr Who was on telly and the night the ‘Yeti’s’ wandered along London’s underground I left the room, utterly terrified!
So you can imagine what happened when I watched the g/w/t/dragon tattoo… I abhor violence and the level of violence in this film is unbelievably gratuitous and evil. So I ended up leaving the room more than once and I actually debated whether to finish watching the film.
The violence in the book seems less memorable, not because of the writing but because the author did not linger over it too long. Whereas the film maker lingered unnecessarily long and the graphic images of violence are far more vivid and intense, for me, having them imprinted on the back of my retina.
It’s a great shame that this gifted author will never know about his huge success but I think he probably knew that ‘the boy done good,’ when he delivered the trilogy to his publisher.
There is a good mix of unique characters, utterly memorable and not necessarily likeable, a small amount of love interest, and some explicit snippets of sex covering just about all gender variations alongside cops and murderous events that are horrific, set against a backdrop of politics and business. So just about all bases are covered.
The main theme of violence against women is hard to read in places. And as to his writing for me he succeeds because he has chosen to write many POV’s and he is successful in this aim by making them all focus on one outcome, the fate of a single person.
However, the story is full of passion and gives subtle insights into an arena we may not chose to visit willingly. Reading the reviews I’m surprised how many people didn’t enjoy the first 100 pages… these are well written and I found them fascinating.
Lucky for me I was won over and I did watch the whole film. And for the girl who apparently gets easily scared I was screaming at the set willing our heroine on, to commit vile and despicable acts of violence, as I could not bear the idea that the evil wrong doer was going to get away with it! So the film gave me a ring-side seat and managed to draw out my gladiator.
If you have not read Stieg Larsson books then please add them to your ‘to read list.’ It is both curious and interesting to note that when, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was published in Sweden it was called: Men who hate Women!
Reading the second in the trilogy I have plunged into an espionage thriller, a commentary on social injustice and crime who done it, and I have a good clear image of the characters so I can’t wait to see the next film, it’s on my to buy list…
To sum up:
If I can write a book half as good as this, so that my readers will not be able to put my book down and once they’ve picked it up can’t stop reading it, I shall know that I have achieved my ultimate aim.
I’m off to read… and the joy of this news is there is number three waiting for me on the bookshelf.
I’m reading, let me re-phrase that, gobbling down: ‘The Girl who played with Fire’ and I am addicted. Funny that: as I’m not usually keen on violent political thrillers.
The pace is fantastic, I want to read and turn the page at the same time, I ignore the phone and god help anyone who dares to disturb me and knocks the front door. I think I may greet them very sourly…
Several of my friends husbands recommended that I read ‘The Girl with the Dragoon Tattoo’ so it was added to my ‘to-be-read-list’ but I was in no hurry as my list is for ever growing and then by chance, recently, I watched the film.
Well for a girl who does not like scary films… I used to hide behind the sofa when Dr Who was on telly and the night the ‘Yeti’s’ wandered along London’s underground I left the room, utterly terrified!
So you can imagine what happened when I watched the g/w/t/dragon tattoo… I abhor violence and the level of violence in this film is unbelievably gratuitous and evil. So I ended up leaving the room more than once and I actually debated whether to finish watching the film.
The violence in the book seems less memorable, not because of the writing but because the author did not linger over it too long. Whereas the film maker lingered unnecessarily long and the graphic images of violence are far more vivid and intense, for me, having them imprinted on the back of my retina.
It’s a great shame that this gifted author will never know about his huge success but I think he probably knew that ‘the boy done good,’ when he delivered the trilogy to his publisher.
There is a good mix of unique characters, utterly memorable and not necessarily likeable, a small amount of love interest, and some explicit snippets of sex covering just about all gender variations alongside cops and murderous events that are horrific, set against a backdrop of politics and business. So just about all bases are covered.
The main theme of violence against women is hard to read in places. And as to his writing for me he succeeds because he has chosen to write many POV’s and he is successful in this aim by making them all focus on one outcome, the fate of a single person.
However, the story is full of passion and gives subtle insights into an arena we may not chose to visit willingly. Reading the reviews I’m surprised how many people didn’t enjoy the first 100 pages… these are well written and I found them fascinating.
Lucky for me I was won over and I did watch the whole film. And for the girl who apparently gets easily scared I was screaming at the set willing our heroine on, to commit vile and despicable acts of violence, as I could not bear the idea that the evil wrong doer was going to get away with it! So the film gave me a ring-side seat and managed to draw out my gladiator.
If you have not read Stieg Larsson books then please add them to your ‘to read list.’ It is both curious and interesting to note that when, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was published in Sweden it was called: Men who hate Women!
Reading the second in the trilogy I have plunged into an espionage thriller, a commentary on social injustice and crime who done it, and I have a good clear image of the characters so I can’t wait to see the next film, it’s on my to buy list…
To sum up:
If I can write a book half as good as this, so that my readers will not be able to put my book down and once they’ve picked it up can’t stop reading it, I shall know that I have achieved my ultimate aim.
I’m off to read… and the joy of this news is there is number three waiting for me on the bookshelf.
Sunday, 21 August 2011
Writing progress is slow?
It’s funny but I’m beginning to realise that sometimes I’m quite hard on myself and feel that I have not achieved very much with my writing. And then I make myself write a list and realise that subconsciously I have been working towards a single goal from many angles. So what did I achieve this/last week?
• I submitted my first #SampleSunday: ‘Adrenalin-rush’ on Twitter via my Blog
• I edited John’s work
• I edited Mike’s work (They edit my work in return, which I find invaluable)
• I reviewed two chapters of my novel based on edit comments rec’d.
• I wrote a brand new short story that desperately needs a good title and a final edit
• I read ‘Bread Alone’ by Judith R Hendricks
• I am reading and writing a review for a friend’s new book
(I owe a couple of other reviews too for books that I’ve recently finished.)
• I bought 2 books no - 21 actually! - I buy second hand childrens books for my niece &
nephew as English is their second language. Really looking forward to reading, ‘How to
train your Dragon!’
• I downloaded six free classics to my iPad for summer reading ‘when I have a moment’
mostly Austen & Brontës.
• I watched the Blind Side (listening to dialogue tunes in the ear. There are some lines
in this film that, damn I wish I’d thought of them first…)
• I wrote today’s blog entry
• I read other peoples blogs via my twitter feed and promoted the interesting ones
• And finally I wrote my aunt a family letter
And there I was thinking that I hadn’t done any writing!
But it dawned on me while I was writing this post that I have (unintentionally) stopped submitting my work and perhaps that’s why I think I’m not writing enough.
So as August draws to a close and merges into September I have to bite the bullet and start to submit my work for publication, again. Perhaps enter a competition or two… and find a new platform or outlet for some of my short stories.
I’ll let you know how I get on.
If anyone, especially those of you who write, has bright ideas on how they track their personal progress I’d love to hear them, it would be nice to know if other writers are as haphazard in their approach to writing as I am or more focused and dedicated and how they achieve this goal.
• I submitted my first #SampleSunday: ‘Adrenalin-rush’ on Twitter via my Blog
• I edited John’s work
• I edited Mike’s work (They edit my work in return, which I find invaluable)
• I reviewed two chapters of my novel based on edit comments rec’d.
• I wrote a brand new short story that desperately needs a good title and a final edit
• I read ‘Bread Alone’ by Judith R Hendricks
• I am reading and writing a review for a friend’s new book
(I owe a couple of other reviews too for books that I’ve recently finished.)
• I bought 2 books no - 21 actually! - I buy second hand childrens books for my niece &
nephew as English is their second language. Really looking forward to reading, ‘How to
train your Dragon!’
• I downloaded six free classics to my iPad for summer reading ‘when I have a moment’
mostly Austen & Brontës.
• I watched the Blind Side (listening to dialogue tunes in the ear. There are some lines
in this film that, damn I wish I’d thought of them first…)
• I wrote today’s blog entry
• I read other peoples blogs via my twitter feed and promoted the interesting ones
• And finally I wrote my aunt a family letter
And there I was thinking that I hadn’t done any writing!
But it dawned on me while I was writing this post that I have (unintentionally) stopped submitting my work and perhaps that’s why I think I’m not writing enough.
So as August draws to a close and merges into September I have to bite the bullet and start to submit my work for publication, again. Perhaps enter a competition or two… and find a new platform or outlet for some of my short stories.
I’ll let you know how I get on.
If anyone, especially those of you who write, has bright ideas on how they track their personal progress I’d love to hear them, it would be nice to know if other writers are as haphazard in their approach to writing as I am or more focused and dedicated and how they achieve this goal.
Saturday, 13 August 2011
#SampleSunday: My first attempt
To my readers: Where would you, my reader, like this story to go next?
As I’m open to suggestions… and is there anything specific missing?
Adrenalin-rush
There is no room for error. But I have a choice. I can hook my motorbike into the bend and nail this corner. Or, the twist of this turn can mug me. Then I’ll slide down the tarmac on my arse. I wince at the prospect. This is no soft option. My knee is so close to the surface as I allow my bike to run back out close to the edge of the kerb. Heart pounding. Adrenalin pumping. I tuck my body in low. The engine clamped firm between my thighs screams. Vibrates through my slender frame.
Pitting my wits against this road. Pitting myself against this machine. Pitting my machine against this surface.
I adore the way my body feels as I find the slip stream. And open her up. In the blink of an eye the tarmac vanishes beneath these tyres. I fly. Exhilarated. Bike well balanced. I blip the throttle. Faster. And faster. Racing for the hell of it. I focus. My bike leans left, knee down, I drive it deeper down on the brakes. Run through the bend, then hang wide. Take the corner real quick. I love to do this.
I get a rush as I gamble. Pick up speed. I stand the bike up and push it harder. Go for it. Race my heart out. I’m riding the wheels right out from under me. The knot in my stomach, tauter than a fisted ball, tightens. It’s one of the greatest feelings I know.
Another inside turn excites me, elevates my good mood. Addictive. Irresistible. The bike comes upright. I take my foot off the peg. Playing devils advocate I dodge in and out as I charge past cars, and race up the steep incline, find a space, tuck myself in tight and make the next turn. Then tear down the hill into a harsh left hander.
The hedgerow flies passed me blurring in a haze of smudged greenery. Trying to get on the turn quicker, faster than I should. My thighs tingle, I try to ignore this sensation. Shake myself free. Feeling loose the Ducate whines. I test my nerve. Flick the bike through a double right hander. It responds, twitches. Brakes off. I fly. Lick my lips. Savour the salt. Dicing with death. It’s dangerous but I’m buzzing, I feel so alive.
Off the brakes, another tough left hander. On the brakes, then open her up as the straight opens before me, beckons me on. Throttle fully open I speed into the danger zone. I spot the police car too late. Crap. I jam on the brakes. The back tyre convulses as I loose speed in rapid quick time and come to an abrupt stop.
Sitting upright in the saddle. I release the handle bars. Clutch the bike tight between my thighs and punch the air in anger. But maybe I can get away with it again? Will he be okay? Change his mind when I take off my helmet? Perhaps the last thing this officer expects… is me.
When I take off my lid, I flick my locks, loosen the mane, and allow it to fall casually across my shoulders. Smile. A big broad flashy grin. I usually get a look of surprise, followed by a quick nod of approval. Then I have to react fast. Bat my long lashes and perhaps unzip my jacket real slow, flash some cleavage? Look up from under my fluttering eyelashes again? It might work. Buy myself a get out of jail card so to speak…
I wait, hold my breath, and then breathe out slow because I recognise the officer walking towards me. I dip my head and smile, a quite smirk of relief. This should be fun.
As I’m open to suggestions… and is there anything specific missing?
Adrenalin-rush
There is no room for error. But I have a choice. I can hook my motorbike into the bend and nail this corner. Or, the twist of this turn can mug me. Then I’ll slide down the tarmac on my arse. I wince at the prospect. This is no soft option. My knee is so close to the surface as I allow my bike to run back out close to the edge of the kerb. Heart pounding. Adrenalin pumping. I tuck my body in low. The engine clamped firm between my thighs screams. Vibrates through my slender frame.
Pitting my wits against this road. Pitting myself against this machine. Pitting my machine against this surface.
I adore the way my body feels as I find the slip stream. And open her up. In the blink of an eye the tarmac vanishes beneath these tyres. I fly. Exhilarated. Bike well balanced. I blip the throttle. Faster. And faster. Racing for the hell of it. I focus. My bike leans left, knee down, I drive it deeper down on the brakes. Run through the bend, then hang wide. Take the corner real quick. I love to do this.
I get a rush as I gamble. Pick up speed. I stand the bike up and push it harder. Go for it. Race my heart out. I’m riding the wheels right out from under me. The knot in my stomach, tauter than a fisted ball, tightens. It’s one of the greatest feelings I know.
Another inside turn excites me, elevates my good mood. Addictive. Irresistible. The bike comes upright. I take my foot off the peg. Playing devils advocate I dodge in and out as I charge past cars, and race up the steep incline, find a space, tuck myself in tight and make the next turn. Then tear down the hill into a harsh left hander.
The hedgerow flies passed me blurring in a haze of smudged greenery. Trying to get on the turn quicker, faster than I should. My thighs tingle, I try to ignore this sensation. Shake myself free. Feeling loose the Ducate whines. I test my nerve. Flick the bike through a double right hander. It responds, twitches. Brakes off. I fly. Lick my lips. Savour the salt. Dicing with death. It’s dangerous but I’m buzzing, I feel so alive.
Off the brakes, another tough left hander. On the brakes, then open her up as the straight opens before me, beckons me on. Throttle fully open I speed into the danger zone. I spot the police car too late. Crap. I jam on the brakes. The back tyre convulses as I loose speed in rapid quick time and come to an abrupt stop.
Sitting upright in the saddle. I release the handle bars. Clutch the bike tight between my thighs and punch the air in anger. But maybe I can get away with it again? Will he be okay? Change his mind when I take off my helmet? Perhaps the last thing this officer expects… is me.
When I take off my lid, I flick my locks, loosen the mane, and allow it to fall casually across my shoulders. Smile. A big broad flashy grin. I usually get a look of surprise, followed by a quick nod of approval. Then I have to react fast. Bat my long lashes and perhaps unzip my jacket real slow, flash some cleavage? Look up from under my fluttering eyelashes again? It might work. Buy myself a get out of jail card so to speak…
I wait, hold my breath, and then breathe out slow because I recognise the officer walking towards me. I dip my head and smile, a quite smirk of relief. This should be fun.
Thursday, 4 August 2011
So how is your writing progressing?
I’m making steady progress despite a major wobble this summer. I think I got wrong footed by doubting that what I had written was any good. I’m not exactly sure how this happened but it may have been because I wasn’t feeling great physically.
So last month I changed course and started writing my new novel.
Mad? Maybe...maybe not.
As long as I have ideas I will continue to commit them to paper. It’s probably why I frequently stop work on the big stuff and write short stories too, because I can’t bear the thought that I might lose or forget a concept for a story. So it is recorded and if I’m honest maybe at a later date the ‘short’ with a small adaption could slide right into the novel.
However this time around I’m working differently trying out a new format, as there aren’t going to be any chapters… did I hear you cry in horror? It’s going to be one long piece currently divided into four sections. If I don’t try I won’t know if it works. However I can always adapt the finished book once it is written.
I’m never quite sure how my mind works but I do mull things over before I begin to write. A concept will grow organically from one small idea or overheard piece and I will play it over several times, looking at it from different angles until it fixes.
Recently I had to write a romantic tryst. For the life of me I couldn’t think of one single romantic idea! My mind went blank along with my memory banks and failed me until a week or so later an idea dropped in and made me smile.
Now why couldn’t I have come up with that idea at the drop of hat? Maybe it’s because the new book has been nurtured quietly in the back of my mind whilst I was busy and now it’s ready to be released on to the page. And perhaps I needed the perfect angle rather than an off the shelf or standard solution.
But I think I get the greatest fun from putting my new characters in to situations that make them awkward and I like to play around to see how they might react. Of course in fact the reaction is my reaction or my version of the character.
So here are a few of my rules for writing:
• Be kind to yourself.
• Write the first thought that comes into your head and let the idea run out on to the page.
• Don’t edit your thoughts or the writing yet.
• Write everyday if possible, if not possible, write as often as you can.
• Let your work rest before revising a single thing.
• Don’t limit what you write you may not know it but your thoughts may be ahead of your plans.
• Don’t worry or fret about grammar at this early stage. It can be sorted later.
• Anchor the location, describe where events occur. (I’m bad at this and I must improve!)
• Be honest: Why would others read it?
What writing rules do you live by?
So last month I changed course and started writing my new novel.
Mad? Maybe...maybe not.
As long as I have ideas I will continue to commit them to paper. It’s probably why I frequently stop work on the big stuff and write short stories too, because I can’t bear the thought that I might lose or forget a concept for a story. So it is recorded and if I’m honest maybe at a later date the ‘short’ with a small adaption could slide right into the novel.
However this time around I’m working differently trying out a new format, as there aren’t going to be any chapters… did I hear you cry in horror? It’s going to be one long piece currently divided into four sections. If I don’t try I won’t know if it works. However I can always adapt the finished book once it is written.
I’m never quite sure how my mind works but I do mull things over before I begin to write. A concept will grow organically from one small idea or overheard piece and I will play it over several times, looking at it from different angles until it fixes.
Recently I had to write a romantic tryst. For the life of me I couldn’t think of one single romantic idea! My mind went blank along with my memory banks and failed me until a week or so later an idea dropped in and made me smile.
Now why couldn’t I have come up with that idea at the drop of hat? Maybe it’s because the new book has been nurtured quietly in the back of my mind whilst I was busy and now it’s ready to be released on to the page. And perhaps I needed the perfect angle rather than an off the shelf or standard solution.
But I think I get the greatest fun from putting my new characters in to situations that make them awkward and I like to play around to see how they might react. Of course in fact the reaction is my reaction or my version of the character.
So here are a few of my rules for writing:
• Be kind to yourself.
• Write the first thought that comes into your head and let the idea run out on to the page.
• Don’t edit your thoughts or the writing yet.
• Write everyday if possible, if not possible, write as often as you can.
• Let your work rest before revising a single thing.
• Don’t limit what you write you may not know it but your thoughts may be ahead of your plans.
• Don’t worry or fret about grammar at this early stage. It can be sorted later.
• Anchor the location, describe where events occur. (I’m bad at this and I must improve!)
• Be honest: Why would others read it?
What writing rules do you live by?
Monday, 1 August 2011
These are the last of my #aros stones:
I completed the #aros challenge last month, *whoo hoo* these are the last of my stones:
28.7.11
A horse & gig clip-clop along the tarmac, double white lines & a blind bend hinder my progress, no chance to overtake I travel slower
29.7.11
The heaviness of the rain as its pelts the tarmac sends droplets bouncing upwards, forming bubbles that float across puddles
30.7.11
Mirror flat the waters reflections turn my world upside down, a reverse image that looks alarmingly real yet I know to be false
31.7.11
Heavy rain driven up the road, an incoming tide blown on by a stiff breeze, it forms a small stream that runs into an artificial lake
I’ve given myself a small pat on the back because I’m pleased that I managed to finish this challenge and enjoy the process. I hope you enjoyed reading them too.
Can’t believe it’s August!
28.7.11
A horse & gig clip-clop along the tarmac, double white lines & a blind bend hinder my progress, no chance to overtake I travel slower
29.7.11
The heaviness of the rain as its pelts the tarmac sends droplets bouncing upwards, forming bubbles that float across puddles
30.7.11
Mirror flat the waters reflections turn my world upside down, a reverse image that looks alarmingly real yet I know to be false
31.7.11
Heavy rain driven up the road, an incoming tide blown on by a stiff breeze, it forms a small stream that runs into an artificial lake
I’ve given myself a small pat on the back because I’m pleased that I managed to finish this challenge and enjoy the process. I hope you enjoyed reading them too.
Can’t believe it’s August!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)