Thursday, 30 April 2015

Flash: Girl Next Door

‘Hello Tansy.’
‘George! George! Georgo!’
‘Georgo! I’m playing marbles. Do you want a game?’
‘I’m on my way to work, I can’t really stop.’
‘Go on George; one game?’
‘Go on, it’s fun. You can be this blue clearsy. He is a prince and he’s trapped in this daisy patch. I’m going to be the giant ord. She is a magician and she’s going to rescue you.’
‘I thought with marbles you just tried to hit each other.’
‘No George, that’s naughty. Don’t hit me or I’ll make you sit on the naughty step.’
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘So you be the prince and I’ll be the magician.’
‘What are you giggling at, Tansy?’
‘This is what it will be like when we get married.’
‘Oh no Tansy, not that again.’

Tuesday, 28 April 2015

On your marks, get set...

On a precipice, the line of a notepad, then plunging in to a sea of words, of blue squiggles, only decipherable to me, so I can camouflage my vulnerability.

The procrasti – did I leave the gas on? The procrastinay – I’m not sure I locked the back door. The procrastinate – we’ve run out of milk. PROCRASTINATION can be an issue. So sometimes I need to be tricked into writing. It is very like getting into the sea; dead metaphors lurk like jellyfish tentacles, luring you into slimy, useless embraces.
Fear of beginning, of ‘what I might write might not be quite as good as Shakespeare’ has halted many a mediocre writer. Why, sometimes it even halts me. Often the first few paragraphs of what I write are shite. I couldn’t resist the rhyme there and I’ve just demonstrated what I mean perfectly. I suppose it’s about getting anything down and chopping away later.  

If I over-analyse when blocked, awful things happen in my mind. Where are the ideas? Where are the words? Will they ever come again? Have I lost it? Did I ever have it? 
So I’ll just throw myself into the sea. Bring on the lazy metaphors, indulge the proliferation of alliteration, have fun splashing in sentences. Swimming is a bit like flying, flying is a bit like writing, and writing is blissful when we find our flow.

Thursday, 23 April 2015

Flash: Fury Friends

Her teddy bear told her to do things. She didn’t always comply but if she was in a good mood she’d indulge him.
‘Let’s sit in the sun,’ he’d say. ‘Please can you make me a daisy chain crown?’

He also wanted to watch films. Toy Story was a particular favourite, and later he discovered Chucky, which they saw 15 times. After this, he took an unhealthy interest in knives.

She got a hamster for her birthday. Her teddy bear was understandably jealous.

‘Please can I have a Stanley knife?’ he asked.

She did not allow him a knife. Instead she started taking precautions and at night would lock him in the hamster cage. The hamster made a nest in his belly.

She enjoyed having a hamster more than a teddy. It was real and therefore more grown up. Gradually the hamster devoured her bear completely and used him for bedding. Then the hamster started talking to her.

‘Let’s go to the library,’ it would say. ‘Please can you get me American Psycho?’