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Ron Blanco

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Everything posted by Ron Blanco

  1. I enjoyed that Sir Nigel. Perhaps there's scope for a follow-up called Ten-a-day?
  2. Good rhythm. Great humour. Smashing.
  3. Yes, I generally cut 10% or more, and it usually seems to give a better end result. Lack of time has been an issue for me also, but I guess I just haven't made writing a sufficient priority. I could stay in to write instead of going down the pub! Re your fellow writer, I wonder if they just started writing something then the ideas and the words would start to flow? Cheers
  4. Hello johnsbucket, I liked the idea of a critical eye provoking a comment from someone in the dark. And agree with the ultimate sentiment of the poem. Thanks
  5. Hi De Batz, I've read your novel. I take my hat off to anyone who has the patience and commitment to write a novel (not me, though maybe one day). It's quite an achievement and you have good reason to feel proud. In my opinion it's a competent piece of work. So many times, these days, I can't finish a book, but not only did I finish yours, I enjoyed it. I remember when you first started out on the project several years ago (here) and I wondered if you could give any feedback on how you have found the process of writing and self-publishing the novel? And, going beyond the personal achievement, are you making anything from it?
  6. Hi De Batz, Thank you for the feedback. Yes, I find writing to a word limit and with a theme in mind helps. But I don't know why it should be that constraints actually help! The theme in this case was 'Insects'.
  7. The late summer sun dominates the sky as Judge Cedric Beaujolais takes in the views of mountains and lakes. He captures every wholesome image, each one serving to push out others that are too incriminating to store. Occasionally a little lost cloud strays across the blue; untidy and ragged, polluting the scene. A midge dots his view; treading air in front of his eyes. Cedric wafts his hand lazily. The insect darts away and then back again. Cedric slaps the air, causing his heavy rucksack to pull on his back. Above him are a dozen more midges. They constantly move and interchange places as though dancing a courante in mid-air. They drop behind him for a few seconds but then catch up again. For Beaujolais, these lonely camping excursions are an escape from the prison of everyday life; an escape from the procession of uncouth ne’er-do-wells and obsequious leeches who sicken him like a cancer in his gut. More than this, they are an escape from his own crimes - against the innocent residents of the orphanage. Those vulnerable souls are victims of his guilty pleasure and compulsion. Lust; it’s a God-given sin. This dark hobby Beaujolais shares with politicians, police chiefs and priests, facilitated by minions of the establishment. Such servants destroy evidence, bribe victims and blackmail witnesses so that the status quo is maintained. Beaujolais, it seems, cannot resist probing the boundaries of power, to see how far he might indulge his mutated animal urges. But his memory cannot be shredded. Cedric walks until the sun begins to fall. As he tires and slows, the cloud of midges grows larger and more frenzied. He drops down to an area of flat ground by a lake. He loosens the straps of his rucksack and allows it to flop to the ground. He unclips the tent bag and notices with relief that the midges have gone. He finds his empty water container and some sterilisation tabs and walks towards the lake. There is an unnatural mist above the water. As he draws nearer it dawns on him that this has not been created by atmospheric conditions, but comprises a great mass of midges. They emit a high-pitched hum, like a million schoolchildren in a playground far away. He stares, confused, but then the humming stops. Cedric instinctively turns and hurries back to his bags. After fumbling to erect his tent, he throws in his rucksack and falls through the entrance. As he closes the tent, he tugs awkwardly on the zip and it breaks. He frowns as he runs his finger along the tiny slit where the flaps do not join. He drops back onto his foam mat, exhausted and dehydrated. He locates his bottle of pills, swallows four of them, and soon his restless mind is forced to sleep. As the sun starts to disappear, a midge enters the slit and hovers above the sleeping man. It settles on his neck, penetrates his skin with its mandibles and sucks his blood until full. Several more midges pass through the slit. They flit around the confined space and select a landing place on the man’s slowly-heaving body. Outside, a long queue of midges stretches to the lake. Each insignificant one of them joins its comrades; they crawl inside the man's clothes until every speck of flesh is covered, and every drop of blood withdrawn. The sun finally disappears, transferring its surveillance to a different part of the earth, leaving the creatures of the countryside prone to the unpredictable energy of darkness
  8. Congrats, De Batz. I look forward to reading it
  9. Back to school... at last! “School tomorrow Ben,” Mum says, rather obviously, as she sets the table for dinner. “Excellent,” I chirp, wearing an exaggerated smile. Parents don’t like it when they can’t nag you about something, because nagging is their main purpose in life. “Tomorrow you’ll need to get up at seven; no more laying in bed ’til noon,” she says. “Easy Peasy, I’ve already set my alarm,” I gaily reply. Mum eyes me suspiciously, as she carefully lowers the tuna-pasta-bake onto the table. But, funnily enough, for once I really am looking forward to school, and have been from the day we broke up six weeks ago. Every morning I have thought of her; gazed at her face on my phone, and savoured the memory of her touching my shoulder and wishing me ‘Happy holidays!’. Rhiannon… lovely Rhiannon. Snakes in September “So, it’s been a while.” “Eleven years, three months and six days to be exact.” Peter frowned at the woman standing next to the restaurant table; he recognized the face but he couldn’t remember the name. “To be exact?” he said. “Exactly,” she replied through an unnatural grin. “Might I ask how you can be so s-s-specific?” he asked as he stood to meet her at eye level. “Because I’ve kept track… because the CSA will want to know,” she said, wiping a greasy clump of hair from her face. Everyone at the table froze; and the ladies, with their perfectly manicured hands, and the men, with their perfectly manicured beards, formed a contemporary tableau of professional thirty-somethings. “Right,” Peter said eventually, “I need a drink and then we’d better have a chat, erm…,” but his voice petered out as he slithered away to the bar.
  10. Everyone’s looking at my little boy. Aww, he looks so nervous. Never seen him nervous before. Over here, Alec! I’m over here! I remember how nervous I felt whenever I was the centre of attention; like at those school concerts when I had to play my flute. Mum and Dad were always there. Always. They were easy to pick out, mum waving excitedly, her smiling face bobbing between the other parents’ heads. And Dad’s glazed expression – clearly didn’t want to be there! But he was there. Always. He’d have his hand on mum’s back, reassuring her, or restraining her, I’m not sure which. At home they were just the same. Stuck on the sofa, glued to the telly. Mum would catch me out the corner of her eye and it would trigger a moment of panic. “Have you done your homework, Sally?” “Have you practised your flute?” A smile and a nod would placate her. And if I hadn’t performed one of my daily rituals then it wasn’t worth arguing. “Do as you’re told!” was as much as dad ever needed to say, and I would slope from the room. I yearned to be independent. I yearned for them to be more independent: for dad to go down the pub; for mum to gossip with her friends on the phone. But they didn’t have friends. Absorbed in the family I suppose. Content with their roles: Dad the bread-winner; Mum the home-maker. With me and Simon being the focus of all their hopes and aspirations. It was enough. I can’t remember at what age I decided I wouldn’t be like them. That I would travel. That I would have a career. Alec’s lucky. He had things I never had: gadgets, designer clothes, a TV in his room. I’d never even been to a restaurant until I left home, except once a year in the Little Chef on the way to Skegness. Ha! That was a laugh! We’d stumble through the café entrance falling over each other whilst everyone watched and savoured our awkwardness. Mum and dad would fret the whole time: “Do we order at the counter?” “Do they come to us?” “Should we leave a tip?” How timid they were. I’m almost blushing now just thinking about it. But despite the awkwardness it felt like a real treat. I chose a university far away to give me a chance to grow up, and a chance to breathe for God’s sake. It was a revelation when I met Derek. I swooned at his sophistication and was charmed by his charisma. A nod of the head or the faintest of hand movements and a waiter would appear. He would flick a five or ten pound note onto the table with the deftness of a casino card dealer. So swathe, so confident, but ultimately such a git! He’s not here today, I notice. Some father he’s turned out to be. But we don’t need him or his money. I will find a way to be at home more. We’ll cut back. We’ll cope. Things will be different from now on. Wait! Everyone’s standing. The judge must be entering. Yes, after today things will be different. I will always be here for you, Alec. Always here.
  11. That was mischievous, clever and great fun, Sir_Nigel. I really enjoyed it.
  12. The first sound I notice is silence; not the usual rumble of traffic. The pillow is luxuriously soft and yet powerless to relieve the pain in my neck. A wave of curiosity swells, and my eyelids unseal - creating two slits. Brightness and colour flood in. The slits grow larger revealing a large wall-painting. A red landscape of black, spiky trees lies beneath a yellow sky. Where the hell am I? A geeky man appears, obscuring the painting. His body is tall and gangling. But, oddly, his face is big and round, and smiling, like a Halloween pumpkin. He scrutinizes me through thick-rimmed spectacles. His bizarre appearance seems familiar. A woman appears at his side. She is blonde, pretty and serenely confident. She looks familiar, too. “He awakes,” the woman says. She moves away but the geek still smiles at me. “Hello,” he says. Now I remember him. Last night. I am paralyzed as the scene replays... I’m in a bar, bruised from the match but celebrating another victory and a match-winning try. The blonde is standing at the bar. “Hello,” I say. “I’m waiting for someone,” she replies. “Not a man, I hope?” “Yes,” she says, without a flicker of emotion. The geek appears and stands next to her. She grips his bony arm with both hands. “Him?” I say, registering his presence with the briefest of glances. She looks away. Eventually the geek pipes up. “Would you excuse us, please?” My gaze remains locked on the blonde. “Can I buy you a drink later?” The geek removes the blonde’s clutching hands. “Would you excuse us, please?” he repeats. I slowly turn towards him; our faces almost touching. His breath is pungent. And then… nothing! As the memory fades, the nerd’s grinning face comes back into focus. I leap from the bed and grip his throat. “What’s going on?” I say. His long, skinny fingers gently encircle my forearm. “You were unconscious. So I brought you here to rest.” I squeeze a little harder. I don’t know why. I'm confused, and disgusted at the thought of such gratuitous non-violence. “That doesn’t make sense,” I say. My grip tightens and his face distorts. “Actually it is entirely logical,” says a monotonic voice from behind me. It is the woman. And as her words register, I feel a pinch on the side my neck.
  13. We'll be discussing The Secret History by Donna Tartt on 2nd July. The book after that will be Vernon God Little by DBC Pierre.
  14. ... I have moved Woolyhead's story from the Writers' Group Introduction Thread. Here it is. I'm sure Woolyhead would appreciate some constructive comments. Title: LUCIFER'S STORY. By Woolyhead Two men sit at a cocktail bar. "Good evening." We nod back. A short silence follows. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Lucifer and you are?” We tell him. We ask whether Lucifer is his real name. He laughs. He understands what we really mean. "Oh it's my real name alright. And I really am the devil. No doubt you've heard of me." Another silence. Uneasiness. He waits as we absorb the situation. What's he going to say next? Is it a joke? If so it isn't very funny. He sits staring at the large mirror on the wall opposite. We follow his gaze and suddenly realise that he has no reflection. Our growing fear is quickly replaced by disbelief. Must be a trick. Maybe we're not sitting in the right place. We move about to see if we can change the angle. Still can't see him. He turns his head and smiles. “Satisfied? No, I can see you're not. But don't worry, I'm not after you. You're perfectly safe. So before you panic, just let me tell you what I'm doing here. "As you know, I was thrown out of Heaven for being too radical. My ideas really could have improved things. But would they listen? Of course not. Why should they? All those civil servants up there have got it made. It's down here that things aren't so good. I told Him where he'd gone wrong of course but nobody ever wants criticism, do they. He said my perception must be faulty. Faulty, me? Rubbish! No, what it was is a cover-up for all the mistakes His people made with this universe. I expect you've come across hundreds of them. Most people have. I told Him that with creatures such as you, free will is a big mistake. You know how it is. If everything worth while is too hard to resist, why struggle when you can be forgiven. If you're a believer, that is. Of course if you're not then you're doomed anyway. What a setup. Sounds like a no win situation all round, doesn't it. You'd think that sin didn't really matter as much as the forgiving. Well I suppose that with His resources maybe it doesn't. He might as well have said "Do what you want and then be forgiven." It's not the way I'd do things. But then I'm only part human... well almost. When I asked about it He said "Love conquers all." Now I know a thing or two about love and about life in general and I can say with confidence that love hardly ever survives long enough to affect anything, especially with your lot. If you'd only take better care of things. And of each other of course. And not keep on needing forgiveness. Why can't you just do things right once in a while? I'm not saying that I'm perfect myself. Far from it. I admit to liking a bit of laugh now and then. I mean, who doesn't ? And that's my point. People aren't designed to be perfect. It's alright for those religious freaks. They don't seem to want anything out of life apart from serving as slaves to admiration, guilt, begging and forgiveness. Not much of a horizon for someone created in His own image, is it? Heaven certainly didn't suit me. No sex, no jokes, no laughter, no fun. All hail Marys and hallelujahs from morning to night. Of course that's OK if you haven't got an intellect and none of those healthy, physical desires. You know what I mean, don’t you? So what was my idea, you may ask. And well you may, my friend. Let me tell you. My first idea was that if they were to be given free will then they must damn well take the consequences when they choose personal gratification over duty. After all, I had to be responsible for what I did. And although I say it myself, I'm a little more honest about it than your lot. Of course He didn't like that idea so I came up with another one straight away. But would He agree? Of course not. He insisted on giving you all what He called "proper" free will so that you could all make your mistakes just the way you wanted to. He said that He only wanted properly forgiven, pure souls with Him in heaven, not some preordained quota. I didn't know what to say. I could have pointed out that my idea was in His own interest, that free will was bound to benefit me more than Him But what was the point in trying to convince Him? He always knows best. OK, in theory I'm better off with His arrangement, except that now I only seem to get those souls who actually believe in punishment. I ask you, where's the fun in torturing people like that? Mind you they're not happy. They think they've been caught in some sort of a scam. As if the temptations were too strong to allow their tiny minds to make use of their so-called free will. And there's no screaming or moaning any more. Oh no, nothing amusing like that to listen to .... just complaining, morning and night. I tell you I'm getting fed up with it." We don't know what to say. A long silence follows while he stares at the mirror. Suddenly he speaks. "It's almost as if I wasn't here. You can see what's happened of course. They only have to ask, in a half hearted way and He forgives them. You can you see where that leaves me, can't you? I'm stuck with the really sad cases, the nutters who actually want to be punished. No pleasure in that for me. Of course, now it's too late I can see what His plan was .... Please everyone, except me, by letting them get away with murder, then forgiving them all. He's got me to do His dirty work for Him while I get nothing in return. His idea of a joke, I suppose. So who's the real victim of this scam, would you say? Right, it's me. Anyway, drink up. I can see you're decent sort of chaps. I'm taking you to a nice little place in Soho where the girls are right out of this world. And it's my treat. No, really. I insist. END
  15. Woolyhead, Please direct your technical questions elsewhere. Ron Closing thread
  16. Owing to pb63's absence and two of us not having finished the book, tonight's meeting has been re-scheduled for next Tuesday (26th) at 7.30. Apologies to any newcomers who were planning on coming along, but hopefully you can make the alternative date. ---------- Post added 28-02-2013 at 09:41 ---------- The next meeting will be on Tuesday 2nd April at 7.30, and we'll be discussing George Bernard Shaw's play Pygmalion. The next book after that will be The Monk, by Matthew Gregory Lewis.
  17. I notice there's a new P.G.Wodehouse series on telly. I liked the books but wasn't immediately bowled over by the first episode on TV. Ought to give it a chance, I suppose. Here's my attempt at writing a wodehouse-inspired scene, based on two of his other characters: The Fly Chives appeared, more flustered than usual. "Chives, swat that damned fly for me, there’s a good chap.” I gestured towards the speck on the pane. “Very good, Sir,” he replied, moving towards the infested area. He assessed the situation and then strode to the magazine rack. “This should suffice,” he said, with a hint of mischief in his voice. He picked out The Science of Life, and advanced towards the window. Deducing his intentions, I intervened. “Good God, Man! Not that. It was a gift from HG Wells.” He retraced his steps and plucked an alternative. “The Illustrated London News, Sir?” he asked. “Yes, yes,” I said, “but first show me the cover.” He presented the face of the magazine towards me as if it were a vintage wine. “Who is that, Chives?” “I forget her name, Sir, but I believe she succeeded in flying from London to Australia.” “Australia, you say. Bravo! In that case it would be disrespectful to smudge the old girl’s face, don’t you think?” “As you wish, Sir. I will take care not to spoil the good lady’s visage.” He rolled the magazine, with the back cover facing outwards. I continued reading, but was soon interrupted. “The elusive insect appears to have moved, Sir.” He discerned my confusion, and continued. “Quite possibly, it has escaped through the open window.” “The devious blighter. Well keep your eyes open in case it returns, Chives.” “Of course, Sir. And if that’s all, Sir, then may I resume attending to the fire in the housekeeper’s quarters?” “Yes, carry on, Chives.”
  18. Of course the quip is slightly undermined by my own experience of having received a SFWG prize from your own pocket, Mantaspook. Consequently, I suppose I can claim that I have made money from my writing. And although the £10 book token did not prompt me to give up the day job, nevertheless I am in your debt.
  19. ... ah yes, Mantaspook, I see the flaw in your plan - there is no prize money. And now I will miss out on your offer of a pint. And a sighting of your wallet will remain an elusive dream. I've not felt this disheartened since missing the passing of Halley's comet.
  20. I enjoyed last night's discussion. Exotic chocolates, mince pies, beer, wine, whisky... a potent concoction that Dr Jekyll himself might have shied away from. The next meeting will be on Wednesday 30th January, and we'll be discussing 'Portnoy's Complaint' by Philip Roth. GlobeTrotter will be posting details of February's book in due course, we hope.
  21. Mossdog, Login details can be found HERE – please read the terms and conditions first. For further information have a look at the GETTING STARTED thread.
  22. Lytisha, thank you for supervising a fitting finale. Nice one, Mantaspook.
  23. Unsettling as it is to be reminded, I do agree with the sentiment.
  24. March 2011 theme: Mad as a March Hare Set by Geza As March is the month responsible for the hare population going slightly bonkers (if the saying is to be believed) I thought it would be appropriate for this month’s theme to explore the psyche of madness. Other great authors have tackled this theme with great effect; think Lewis Carol’s Alice in Wonderland and Stephen King’s spooky novel, The Shining. So your story could be as light hearted and funny as the Mad Hatter’s tea party or as spine chilling as the axe wielding ‘’Here’s Johnny’’ and of course anything in between. ---------- Post added 01-12-2012 at 11:59 ---------- April 2011 theme: Awakening Set by MaidinSheff April sees the return of spring to our islands and we can all see the natural world awakening to new life after the dark winter days. Your task then is to write a story about awakening. A theme which I think could accommodate any subject matter. How about waking up after being in a coma for decades? How will the world and the people you know have changed? What about being an ex-pat in a new country (or on a different planet if SciFi is your bent) and you’re trying to get to grips with a new language and strange culture (scope for comedy there). What would it be like to wake up after a catastrophic event or an accident which changes your life forever? You could win the lottery (you never know). What would it feel like to wake up in the morning and realise you actually are a millionnaire? Or maybe it just dawned on you that someone you trust isn’t who you thought they were. ---------- Post added 01-12-2012 at 12:00 ---------- May 2011 theme: Mayday Set by FatDave The May theme will be connected to May Day, or Mayday to be more accurate. I'd like to read a short story in which the protagonist is in trouble, whether it be trouble with the law, with criminals, a spouse or relative, trouble with management at work, financial difficulty etc... You might write about a couch spud who has panic attacks when he gets a final demand from Sky. Or a married man who has just received news his mistress is pregnant ("You can't ride two horses with one arse" my grandad used to say). I'm not asking for a solution to the trouble, just complexity of plot and how it's affecting the protagonist's life and that of those around them (I feel if I were an English teacher I would then tell everyone to swap their story with a partner and then write your way out of your partner's situation). Whatever the plot decision, or nature of story, I would like to read about a situation which doesn't have an immediately obvious escape route. Obviously, this is a plot driven story, characters and dialogue are secondary. June 2011 theme: On The Move Set by Lady Agatha As May turns to June I will be holidaying in a caravan by the Norfolk seaside. It's long been a tradition to spend a few days away in the summer for a change of scenery. So this is my theme - "On the Move". Your 500 word limited story could be about a simple journey where something unusual happens. It may involve someone moving house - perhaps they have lost their home and must now live in a caravan? Or it could be someone who begins moving in different circles - a new job or a new school ---------- Post added 01-12-2012 at 12:07 ---------- July 2011 theme: Skoolz Aht! Set by Lady Agatha As every parent knows, the long school summer holidays are almost upon us. Those never-ending summer 6 weeks are something that we’ve all experienced, and the memories will remain with us throughout our lives. When I was 5, we moved from the Norfolk Park flats to the new estate at Waterthorpe. This was in the late 1970s, before Crystal Peaks and Drakehouse were even thought of. My childhood summer holidays were therefore spent playing in the Ochre Dyke before it was filled with shopping trolleys and roaming around the fields without a car park in sight. As Mum worked, sometimes I went to my Nan’s and had peaches and cream in an old fashioned deck chair. Once or twice I went with my bus driver Dad for the day – he gave my a two pence ticket in case the inspector got on and sat me in the luggage rack. I’d like to see some short stories which involve children on their 6 weeks holiday. This could be a dramatised version of one of your own memories, or a piece of fiction told from the point of view of a child. Have fun with it and resurrect your inner child! August 2011 theme: The Wild Set by De Batz Very simple one this month: I'd like to read some short stories themed around the Wild. You might write about something that takes place far from civilization, or it may be that it is your protagonist who is herself wild. I look forward to reading your entries. September 2011 theme: Ancient Remains Set by Greg2 This theme invites you to imagine a story related to ancient remains. You might be inspired by some aspect of last month’s court case brought by a Druid disputing the digging up of Druid remains from Stonehenge, and write perhaps about the lives of Druids whose remains were buried at Stonehenge, or the concerns of present day Druids, or the perspective of the scientists here at Sheffield Univ who have dug up the remains. Or of course you might write about some entirely different set of ancient remains. ---------- Post added 01-12-2012 at 12:12 ---------- October 2011 theme: Horror! Set by FatDave This month brings Halloween, so expect the cinemas to be filled with cheesy modern horror films filled with soulless characters that nobody cares about who have been written purely to be killed. This month I want you to revisit your golden days of horror; whether it be creaking doors and lightning-illuminated stately homes, or sexy teens running terrified from another movie cliche. This exercise is all about scene setting, please do not be afraid of cheesiness, cornyness, or well worn themes, flaming torch and pitch fork carrying villagers are more than welcome this month. November 2011 theme: Plot Set by De Batz November's theme is 'plot', in the sense of gunpowder, treason and plot. Perhaps you might have an idea about a traitor at work or at home, or you may have a character who is an incessant schemer. I want to be intrigued, in all its possible senses! December 2011 theme: Christmas Present Set by Greg2 There are many ways you might choose to approach this theme, not all of them festive, but I’d like to read about Christmas presents which achieve their intended effect. ---------- Post added 01-12-2012 at 12:19 ---------- January 2012 theme: Resolution Set by Ron Blanco and Tallyman At the start of each new year, many of us will make a resolution to achieve a new goal. These resolutions are usually quite modest undertakings such as ‘to lose a few pounds’ or ‘to stop nagging at the son-in-law’. Perhaps, instead, your story might involve a resolution that is more extraordinary (or even sinister)? Alternatively, of course, your interpretation of the word 'resolution' doesn’t have to relate to new year promises at all; it may refer to completion, the final answer to something that needed to be resolved. February 2012 theme: Coming Clean Set by Ian Rivedon February is the month of St. Valentine's Day, which is overused and overhyped, so I'm going to ignore it. Instead, a semi-religious theme in that the first day of Lent falls on February 21st. Pancake Day is how most people identify with Shrove Tuesday, but as well as devouring pancakes, it is an opportunity to deny one's self something for Lent, and to confess one's sins. So! This month's theme is 'coming clean about something'. Five hundred or less words on 'getting something off your chest', for better—or worse! March 2012 theme: Confusion Set by De Batz This month's theme is confusion. Inspired partly by the joys and despair of new parenthood, I'd like to read about being unable to piece together the fragments of a narrative jigsaw, or a character's inability to follow the motivations of another. Perhaps your lead character has lost something and can't remember it, or is baffled by some new item of technology. April 2012 theme: Resurrection Set by Lady Agatha April is a red letter month for the gardener. This is the time to really get cracking with the sowing and planting, and there is incomparable joy in seeing the garden come back to life. Resurrection is indeed a familiar concept to the Christian in April. I believe that all Christian festivals have true pagan roots and that April must have long hosted a festival celebrating the land's return to fruition. So this is the April theme - Resurrection. Maybe you would like to use a Sci-Fi theme, or take us back to pastoral roots. Interpret as you wish. May 2012 theme: Mayday! Set by Tallyman Perhaps an obvious choice for the month, but one with plenty of scope! There's the Mayday festival, of course, and all the associations with spring, awakening and blossoming courtships, but also the Mayday call of distress, trouble and the need for assistance. Maybe these two strands combine somehow with a kind of 'Trouble at the Maypole' story, or maybe something else entirely. June 2012 theme: A Midsummer Night's Dream Set by mr_blue_owl As the summer solstice falls in June, I would like to set the June theme as 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. The stories can be in Shakespearean style about fairies etc, a dream whilst sleeping, a dream as in a 'wish', or anything else that springs to mind. ---------- Post added 01-12-2012 at 12:22 ---------- July 2012 theme: The Last Words of Mr. Kite Set by Owethemnowt Gives ample scope for interpretation both light and dark, comic and tragic. I suggest it as for the 500 word format it gives a clear opening or ending to a situation; final words on the matter; final, as in last spoken; words to be remembered or acted upon or a deed to be performed. August 2012 theme: Sheffield dot-to-dot Set by Ron Blanco This month’s task is to create a story that contains the following ten words and phrases: Winter Don Owl Coles Corner Steel Rock Henderson’s Blade Chuffin Peak The story doesn’t have to be about Sheffield, but it can be if you like. Try to use all ten words in the order they appear. The purpose of these constraints is to force your imagination to work hard. In order to further spark your imagination, try setting a time limit of ten minutes for your first draft, concentrating on just one key word at a time. September 2012 theme: One for sorrow, two for joy Set by Lady Agatha This month's theme is the magpie. Please write me a story featuring a single or a flock of magpies - the rest is up to you. October 2012 theme: The Goose Fair Set by Ron Blanco Today sees the opening of the annual Goose Fair in Nottingham. It is Europe’s second largest fun fair and dates back over seven hundred years. Your challenge this month is to write a story that is set at The Goose Fair. The story can be anything you like: a family visit to the fair; a first date for a young couple; a stressful episode for a security officer or fun fair worker; or some other incident. You also have the option to set the story in any time period between 1284 and the current day. November 2012 theme: Closure Set by LFT1 It is a real shame that the monthly story competition is drawing to close. With that in mind I propose the theme of Closure. This could be the end of the year / era / relationship / crime / project. Any sort of closure theme.
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