Writers

REASONABLE REQUEST

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 10:48:53 +0100

(By Silver Scribbler)

Invite visitors to our home?

With the parking problems

Here in Willow Green

Best come by rail!

Arrive to find the station

No more than a platform and shelter

Walk down the ramp

Through the dimly lit underpass

Mind the dog mess, whose owners

Have never heard of the blindness

Toxocara canis can cause.

Passing piles of bricks

Where once the Railway Hotel stood

Stepping through puddles in the road

Keeping an eye, for the bulky lorries

As they ramble over the bridge.

Right at the end of the road

Head toward the light, aroma of donar kebab

Ignore the litter, youths hanging around

Don’t chastise them for

Their disgusting habits

Just walk on

And welcome

Comments

Swooning Sleepless

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 01:31:53 +0100

Hate the concept
dread the thought
of sleep
she said.

Swooning.

@prettyintelligentprincess

Comments

Xmas is coming-

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 21:28:11 +0100

Hi guys
Xmas is coming- Buy one of my art works for your best friends at :
http://www.redbubble.com/people/Rolandrimsky

Comments

its a beautiful day!

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 17:45:51 +0100

hey ev'ry1

i am new on this group and i am very excited to learn from each and every talented writers in this group!

Comments

RETURNING OFFICER

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 16:58:34 +0100

"Friends, I , the returning officer hereby declare Hon tortoise, Ludgate as the elected President of territory 28793 XX of crater Palanduma, Mars. Out of the Total 23987 votes, 23943 were discarded as void. God bless all."

Comments

hi all

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 09:17:39 +0100

I have been doing my crafting this week getting my christmas cards maked so not alot of writing being done. My garden has to have so work done on it too. The children book I am having a go at is still being hard work at the bit of it that I cannot think of the next bit. I know the end and the start is down. It is getting it to the end. I write short storys and this one is alot longer. But I would like to do it if I can. Working on christmas storys for my blog this weekend. Happy writing all

Comments

Trying this blogging...

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 22:10:12 +0100

........thing out! Hopefully I'll get used to the set up! Any other good folk from the UK???!!!

Comments

Hi

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 19:49:15 +0100

I just wanted to say hello. Im pretty new to blogging and am still learning the ropes. I get great pleasure writting poetry, and thought that by bloging. I could share it with other people. The following poem is titled

Chaos of alcholism

Stripped of dignity
and set on one.
Stood at the bar like
he lost someone.

Why wont you just tell
him whats going on?
Ten pints later
crying for his Mum.
Where did it go wrong?
Where has he gone?

"Could of been something"
He mutters "could've shone
Instead I'm Here,
Having another one"
Drinking his answers
His questions have gone.

Comments

hi

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 08:43:26 +0100

Hi hope you all read my little story I posted. Working on some christmas ones now. I write for children but hope all will like them. I am still working on the bigger one. But it is not going to well. Cannot get sat down to write it lots of things to do around the house. I also love reading old books and I sit down to write then end up reading a book. I know I should be writing but I do it. Or I end up in the garden on a good day. Maybe I will get work done this winter when it is to wet outside. Happy writing all .

Comments

Can't is waiting

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 02:21:37 +0100

I can't seem to find
Any my space in my mind
There are the things
To do
the people Who
must be seen and spoken to

All I have inside are things
I have to decide
But there's
No-one awake to listen to

I hear the sirens in the street
the voices raised
as people meet
and cars passing make
sounds like waves on the beach

I can't seem to find
Anywhere to sit and hide
To watch
and learn from my children
Missing them is watching
Through someone else's eyes

Comments

A Long Time Waiting

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 23:10:19 +0100

If it's coming, let it come.

Bring on the darkness. I've waited so long for it's cold shadow to descend.

A month I was told. Three have passed and still I wait.

I relax, and here it comes. All pain gone.

I am no more.....

Comments

Autumn Days

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 16:01:21 +0100

Leaves a trillion on my lawn
I rake and then...
They're back by dawn

I rake, I sing,
I'm full of beans
I feel as though
I'm in my teens

The air is clean
the morning's fresh
This time of day
for me is best

Heart a pumping
back now breaking
But I must continue
Raking

Because the gardener
comes on Friday
So the garden
MUST be tidy

I cannot have him
think me lazy
Though my husband
says I'm crazy

The tree that sheds
the leaves galore
Aint even ours
It's theirs next door!!!

Comments

Enough Is Enough

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 15:11:04 +0100

Bang, bang, bang!
I gritted my teeth and sat quietly.
Bang, bang, bang!
I tried desperately to pretend it didn't bother me but it was no good, I was mad as hell.
Was it the fact that I was tired or was it really annoying?
In my pondering I hadn't noticed that it had gone quiet.
I started to relax and with a deep sigh, went back to my book.
Two words in and there it was again, the rhythmic kicking of the back of my seat.

My long haul flight to Thailand had been marred by some little brat kicking my seat. Well enough was enough they were going to get the full force of my wrath.
I stood up and turned in my confined space and shouted at the top of my voice
"Can you stop kicking my seat? Four bloody hours of bang, bang, bang. I've had......"

I was halted mid sentence by the sight before me. My seat was being repeatedly kicked, and I had every right to complain, but the culprit was a little boy with Cerebral palsy.

Floor open now and swallow me; wait a minute, I would be outside the plane then, falling at speed. Perhaps that would be my punishment.

His parents and most of the other nearby passengers glared at me.
I sat down again hanging my head in shame and said nothing for the rest of the flight.

Comments

title-7250676

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 02:01:54 +0100

I am not a creative writer...
I am a destructive writer

The thing that it has been
Is not as it shall be
And not as it should be

I discern faults and cracks among the surfaces
and among the faces there are gourds
and shells of eggs
and pickle jars
and horses
with feet of clay and eyes alight with dust

Do comment please.
I am curious to learn where this new material is going, and how long the stream is. Seems an endless not...

Comments

My Poetry Book is selling now!

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 12:52:00 +0100

Here's a picture of the proof copy of the paperback edition of Alternative Poetry Books - Yellow edition. It was exactly right and so the book has now been released for sale on the various Amazon sites!

It is only £4.99 in the UK and $7.99 in the US and is various prices in other countries.

It can be bought from my blog (linked to from the picture) - where I am still selling signed embossed certified copies (only 50 so once they're gone they're gone) for the same price as the standard copies are selling on Amazon.co.uk - £4.99 - but with £2.00 P&P

I have started a Blog Tour to promote the book and my first interview is on the WordPress Blog site with Janet Colley on her "A Place of My Own Blog" : http://jscolley.wordpress.com/2009/10/21/interview-with-a-poet/

The yellow edition is the first of a seven book series which is intended to build to create a rainbow of poetry for your bookshelf.

I'm busy putting together the Pink edition (instead of Indigo) to be released in December/January and the Red edition will be released in time for Valentine's Day.

I took advice from my lovely Blog.co.uk readers as to the format of the book and the price so here's hoping I got it right

You can read a free sample short e-book on the Freado website here : http://www.freado.com

My little yellow/red book is on the front page twice as it is third in rank for most viewed book and second in rank for most pages read! Just click on the image of my book on the Freado site and it will take you to a free view sample of the yellow edition.

Sorry if this entry is a bit spammy - this is the first time I've done something like this and I'm finding it hard to get the right 'tone' I think. I just get a bit over-excited and then possibly get a bit too pushy. It's difficult for me to judge.

Comments

Publication Day - almost there!

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 20:37:15 +0200

My second book, The Magical Properties of Plants... and How to Find Them is almost published. The proofs have been painstakingly checked and sent back, corrections made, and now it's just a matter of waiting. As far as I know, publication date is 1st November or thereabouts.

It's a bit like giving birth in a way... I know roughly what it will look like, but not the detail. It will have illustrations that I finished earlier in the year, but I don't know exactly where they will end up in the text. One, which was drawn to resemble a woodcut, heads up every chapter.

I always like the way my publishers put their books together. On my first book which came out last year, I was amazed that they even used the sort of font that I'd envisaged!

And of course, I'm already writing on my next book - and the one after that. I thought I'd finished the next one... it was sitting on my desk, waiting for me to pack it up and send it off and then... WHAM! A chance browse in a book and I realised I'd missed something really important.

Now maybe some people would say 'Sod it' and just send the manuscript off, but not me. In a book of about 300 pages I'm not going to settle for anything less than my best. So I had to bin the printed text and go back to the original manuscript and rewrite. But I tell myself it'll all be worth it in the end.

I had something rather similar with this present book (the one on plants.) It grew so large and unwieldy that eventually I decided to go back and rewrite it in order to lose 12,000 words. Even so, the finished book has weighed in at over 400 pages!

If you're going to write a book, demand the best from yourself. You deserve it!

Comments

title-7219196

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 21:52:12 +0200

Chapter 1

Wet, wet, cold and wet. The story of my weather. When the sun shines it only melts the frost and the breeze only forces the rain on to your face. Do I need to explain anymore why I moved? Well, I suppose my dad’s promotion could account for some part but only a very, very small part. I don’t know who was more surprised at my reaction to the news! Me or my parents? They did the whole
“Can you come downstairs for a second Rachel, me and your dad need to talk to you about something”
So the typical ‘big news is coming’ intro. Maybe a death, pregnancy, adoption, selling the house, but never would I have guessed I was getting the best news ever. Moving to California! Some people would see that as the worst possible news. You know, moving out of childhood home, starting a new school in 5th year (well 11th grade from now on) in a new country half way across the world. Yeah, not me. For me it was like music to my ears. And the music was good. It was more like party music than a lullaby but not some cheesy celebration song either. More like “get this party started”. That kind. But seriously what was bad about moving to California? The sun, the sea, the cute surfer guys and the chance to start my whole life over.
Ok, my normal life was not that bad but Glasgow was becoming a bit cramped and predictable! And my friends were starting to get on my nerves! I never felt like we were really all close. There was too much making fun of people and not sticking up for each other. I mean what kind of friends are those! But here’s looking to the future and good friends
So now on the plane from London to Los Angeles airport I kind of now understand why my mum and dad are so surprised at my reaction. You see I forgot to ask them the obvious question: where are we staying? Obvious to some people but apparently not me. So, yeah a couple of days later I hear where we are actually going; Cayucos, California, USA. Where? I know! So I did a bit of googling and it is located in northern California on the coast. It is half way between Los Angeles and San Francisco 222 miles from Los Angeles, which almost a 4 hour drive and 223 miles away from San Francisco. Basically away from right bang in the middle! Then I noticed the current approximate population is; 2700. That's’ like only double the amount in my school back home! I probably haven’t told you but I'm pretty much a big town/city girl. I'm like the bubbly, chatty, friendly, funny girl who always has people around her. Yet here I am moving to some tiny place with 2700 residents, some of which aren’t permanent and most are like over 40, and I wonder why my parents were confused at my excitement of moving.
Now on my 3 hour 45 minute car journey from Los Angeles airport I am preparing for the end of my normal life. I am ready for rural mania. Let’s just hope the beach is worth it.

Comments

Unseeing bird

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 22:26:08 +0200

I'm listening to the unbelievable work of Antony & The Johnsons.
Inspired? Don't know, but this fell out of my fingers...

Long ago
I was pulled from the fire
But the embers still glow
And I am still burning

My arms
Ached less then
I was strong enough, and willing
For years
But now the dust
Has fallen
Covers all and people
Write their names on my eyes

I rarely punctuate my verse, or edit back what first emerges.
That way I feel it keeps the spontaneity of the moment in which it was written.
It is entirely a thing of that moment.

I also habitually break the structure and rhythm of the lines.

What does that say...?

Comments

Poetry - a viewpoint

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 22:10:35 +0200

I like poems in general that tell a story although I am willing to look at anything in verse because I enjoy it. I enjooy listening to poetry read well and I like to read it for myself. Reading other poet's work will inspire me to write my own most of the time although when I read Marrianne Moore I feel inadequate. When I read Chaucer or Shakespeare I get interested and become deeply involved with it.

I love to write blank verse and rhyming couplets.

With Island Artists I also enjoy performing and reading my own prose and verse. There is a thrill about having an audience for your work who will respond often by asking for more if you get it right and heckle you if you don't. As I said, I like poems that tell a story so one day I began a poem inspired by Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky and the mad genius of Spike Milligan to emerge two years later with a sixty page epic poem with illustrations drawn by myself.

The title is The Turval and the Grobble ISBN 987-1-4452-0198-6 which I not only enjoyed writing but also enjoy reading. When I read portions of it I wonder where on earth it came from recognising influences from my studies of Shakespeare's works and Chaucer's - a certain bawdiness combined with a desire to write a comical story that is a little bit saucy but at the same time is good verse. I think I have done it right.

Comments

Endless Note

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 21:20:45 +0200

Should I really be listenign to TG at my age...?

Anything
Anything

I do not have
Anything
For you
Despite the screaming

Anything
Anything

I do not want
Anything
From you

Bleeding in sleep
Does not leave
Anything
For me

You could be anyone
But you are not anyone
And tonight
Does not mean
Anything

You turn to steal
From me
But I do not have
Anything for you

Turn to steel
Turn to stone
Turn to sleep again

Anything could happen
Anything could happen

What just happened?

You did not say
Anything
I did not feel
Anything

Comments

Taunting The Memories

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 01:09:01 +0200

Taunting and trivial..
He was there again,
him and I
the conversation
again.

Talking
before sleep hits,
Words,twist inside.

'Disappointed'
'Embarrassed'

'YOU DID NOT'
'YOU DID NOT'
'YOU DID NOT'

No, I did not
But you...
you did.
Over and over
again.
You did.

Voice outside sleep
is strong.

I stand up.
I face him.
I tell him.
Screaming silent words.

Silent now.
Heart racing.
Tears falling.
Hands clenching.

Wishing to be somewhere else
Someone else

Wishing for sleep
and silence
and sense.

He does not hear.
can not hear.
Never hears.
He is not there.

He is here.
Stuck.
Deeply piereced
inside the fragments of thought.

Inside the mess of memories
The mess of me.

Comments

17 Again (film)

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 03:35:31 +0200

Plot

In 1989, Mike O'Donnell (Zac Efron) was a big success in high school. He seemingly had it all, when, right before the championship basketball game, his girlfriend Scarlet Porter (Allison Miller) informed him she was pregnant. In that moment, he made the decision to throw everything away (including basketball and a chance at a scholarship) and proposed to her.

Twenty years later, Mike's (Matthew Perry) life has come to a standstill. Scarlet (Leslie Mann) has separated from him, forcing him to move in with his geeky and wealthy best friend Ned Gold (Thomas Lennon). His job is going nowhere, and his kids Maggie (Michelle Trachtenberg) and Alex (Sterling Knight) want nothing to do with him. While visiting Hayden High School to reminisce about the life he threw away, he encounters a mysterious janitor (Brian Doyle-Murray). On the way home, he sees the janitor standing on the edge of a bridge - apparently about to commit suicide, Mike runs towards him, but his path is blocked momentarily by a passing truck. When he reaches the edge, the janitor is gone, and there is a strange vortex below the bridge. Mike slips and falls into the vortex, blacks out, and awakens back on the bridge. When he gets home, he discovers that he has been magically transformed into his 17-year old self.

Ned sees Mike in his house, and thinks he's a thief. Ned fights with Mike, as Mike trys to prove he's the real Mike. When Ned trys to hit Mike over the head with a picture of the two of them at their 1989 graduation, he realizes that's the real Mike. Mike then returns to the school to find the janitor that he spoke with the day before and became aware of there being no such person working there. Mike then decides that with Ned posing as his father, Mike enrolls at Hayden High as "Mark Gold". He believes he has been given the chance to live his life over again, "but to do it right". Then he discovers that Maggie is dating the basketball captain Stan (Hunter Parrish), who is bullying Alex. He realizes that his real mission is to help his children, and makes friends with both Alex and Maggie. With "Mark"'s help, Alex gets a place on the basketball team and the girlfriend he desires. "Mark" comforts Maggie when she is dumped by Stan, who was pressuring her for sex. "Mark" also meets Scarlet. He helps her decorate her garden, gaining a new appreciation for her, and dances with her before she goes on a date (to the song that he and Scarlet danced to at their wedding). "Mark" and Scarlet clearly feel a connection as they danced, and are about to kiss, until Alex walks in on them. At first Scarlet seemed uncaring that her son is right there, but then she feels embarrassed and tells "Mark" that she is Alex's mother and that this is inappropriate.

With "Mark's" help during the basketball game, Alex makes the winning basket. Meanwhile, Ned is attracted to the principal of Hayden High, Jane Masterson (Melora Hardin). Although his initial attempts to 'peacock' her fail he manages to take her out to dinner. When "Mark" notices the two of them leaving he decides to throw a party at "Ned's" house to celebrate Alex scoring the winning basket and to help him get the girl he likes. Purring the party Scarlet appears, looking for Alex, and "Mark" tells her that Alex could have a girlfriend by the end of the party and brings her up to the balcony to show her. Ned and Jane soon bond over a love of The Lord Of The Rings. However, when he takes her back to his house, they discover an out-of-control party raging there. (after Maggie tries to have sex with "Mark") Maggie sees Ned and goes looking for "Mark" to warn him and finds Mark with her mother Scarlet. While "Mark" and Scarlet are talking, Mike's feelings for her are reawakened, (especially after she tells him "he's really become a part of the family"). But when he kisses her, she is appalled, and slaps him and calls him a "weirdo little man child" even though he chases after her and tries to tell her that he is Mike. This exchange is witnessed by Maggie and her friends, who are all disgusted, especially since Maggie has become smitten with "Mark".

The following morning, Ned reminds Mike that it is the date of his divorce hearing with Scarlet. "Mark" appears in court to read a letter from Mike O'Donnell. Scarlet is touched by the letter. When she sees that the "letter" is really just a piece of paper with directions on it, she realizes that "Mark" spoke extemporaneously. Later, at the championship game, Mike makes a gesture which she recognizes as his. Realizing that she is in the same situation as twenty years earlier, she flees the scene. Mike follows, handing the ball to Alex, who goes on to make the winning shot. The janitor catches sight of Mike and changes him back into his adult self. Mike promises Scarlet to spend the rest of his life making it up to her. Scarlet and Mike kiss and reunite.

In the end, Mike happily reconciles with his family, and becomes the coach of the Hayden High basketball team, while Ned and Ms. Masterson seem to have a "relationship".

Cast

* Zac Efron - Mike O'Donnell (17 years old)/"Mark Gold"
* Leslie Mann - Scarlet O'Donnell (37 years old)
* Thomas Lennon - Ned Gold (37 years old)
* Michelle Trachtenberg - Maggie O'Donnell
* Sterling Knight - Alex O'Donnell
* Hunter Parrish - Stan (Maggie's boyfriend)
* Melora Hardin - Principal Jane Masterson
* Matthew Perry - Mike O'Donnell (37 years old)
* Jim Gaffigan - The Coach
* Nicole Sullivan - Naomi
* Brian Doyle Murray - The Janitor
* Margaret Cho - Health Teacher
* Allison Miller as Scarlet O'Donnell (17 years old)
* Tyler Steelman as Ned Gold (17 years old)

Comments

The Lipstick

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 18:32:57 +0200

It's vivd colour, 'choosy cherry,'
Slicks on like paint,
Can come with or without a pretty case,
Easy to play with when you're bored,
Less easy to get off your teeth,
More grown-up than lipstick - it's lost its childish sparkle,
Yet a childs first thing to hand when dressing up,
Covering their cheeks,
Giving themselves a bright red smile,
Saying 'Dolly wants some too,' followed by a mothers yell of 'No!'
Scribbled messages on walls,
Or as you get older, kisses on secret notes,
'SWALK',
The colours getting more duller, more neutral,
As the individual gets older,
Eventually leaving some smudged,
On their grandsons cheek.

Comments

Mirror Mirror

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 19:19:32 +0200

Mirror, mirror, tell me true
Who is this I see
Can this old woman
Really be me.

My hair is still plentiful though a mixture of shades
My eyes see clearly now
Hearing is not what it was
People do mumble these days !
Can this old woman
Really be me ?

The music blares out of the TV
Just when I'm trying to follow the plot
One day its Monday
Suddenly its Friday approaching again
Can this old woman
Really be me

My shoes are flat
Dress sizes get bigger and bigger
Once I had a waist
My figure was shapely and trim
Can this old woman
Really be me ?

Did I take my tablets ?
Oh no I've forgotten again
I think I'll just have a lie down
Put the wireless on
Yes this old woman
Really is me.

Comments

Train Journey

Sat, 10 Oct 2009 01:18:45 +0200

He ate his sandwiches,
the old man,
then reached for a soft banana;
dessert.

'I'm watching him,' he said.
'I wish I was watching him too,' she said.

It is dark as the train burrows through the blackness...
...it is dark here too.

Dark.
Mixed and rapid response.
She giggles, then chuckles
deeply, into her glass of red.
many women,
many.

'No,just one,' he said.

'I would love you to have me,' he said.

A precious time capsule, still.
Precious and secure.
Locked.

Across the ocean
across the spinning of time,
she wraps herself around
around
and around...

inside the silky web of
adulterous cushions and drapes...

Inside the secretness
Of her other life.

Comments

The Rain Poem II

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 11:18:01 +0200

Another poem I wrote on a rainy day... gee it appears that i like rain a lot...

The Rain Poem II

I like watching the rain drops
I like watching how they fall from nowhere in the sky and then on the rooftops
I like watching the drops gathering with their kind and then flow down onto the ground
I like watching how soil and grass look browner and greener after the rain falls on them

I like the sound of the rain drops
As they race to hit the rooftops
I like how the rain sounds approaching, distancing and returning
as the wind blows them everywhere it likes
I like the sound of the wind coming with the rain
And I like how it blows upon the trees, making them shake under the rain

I like how the wind feels on my skin
As they pass through the opened window behind which I stand watching

I like rains to shower longer
Because I like how the clouds cover the sun and make days look gloomier
I like listening to the rain drops longer
Because they resemble the rhythm of my heart

I like how people run under the rain
And then find shelters somewhere else
I like how they stand waiting for the rain to stop

But I like it only when I'm safe and warm at home
When I only look at rain wetting the earth but not me

I liked dancing in the rain
But that was when I was little
And now that I have felt enough
I like it better to remain dry

Comments

Do you like short stories

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 23:19:31 +0200

Hiya Folks I'm new here

I haven't been blogging long and I've only just found this group.

So by way of introduction I'd like to invite you to read a short story I have written and just posted on my blog.

Here is the link: Click here to read my short story

Also here is a short taster:

==================================================

A pale face came in to focus above him. It belonged to a pretty girl in fine clothes. She was obviously not a prisoner.

"Can you sit up?" the girl prompted him.

He was brought back to the moment. Kinnison shivered. The cobblestones beneath him were unyielding, cold and damp. This was the worst of all situations. He had entered Debtor's Prison with enough money to buy food and a cell but now he had nothing but his breeches. His shoes along with his shirt and jacket had been stripped from his unconscious body.

"I can try. Who are you?" He asked the girl.

"I'm Mary. I'm from the Sisters of Mercy refuge. We visit the Prison to tend the convicted. Do you know how long you've lain here?" She asked.

"Well, it was 6 of the evening clock when I entered this hell hole"

Pain seared through his shoulder as he raised himself onto an elbow. The morning sun light pierced his eyes.

"On Monday" He added. "I was attacked within the hour"

"That was yesterday" Mary said supporting his attempt to rise "It's ten of the clock Tuesday morning".

Kinnison managed to gain his feet but he could barely stand. Mary was joined by a colleague and together they tried to manoeuvre him across the yard to a water trough.

==================================================

Please feel free to vist I would love to hear the opinions of other writers.

Thanks ... Jimi

Comments

Books

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 18:42:28 +0200

He was old he stepped from step to step looking around at the lights coming through the gaps he wondered when the people outside would look in or turn the lights off so he kept moving up looking around making sure all his friends were in place.
Oh one of them was getting near he could feel them now he made sure spine was ready tested he relaxed all his characters in place he was ready.

Sarah took the book off the shelf sat down to read she was half way and happy with the book she had chose from days before and unknown to her the book was happy and his spine relaxed held by someone that would enjoy his contents.

Comments

Children's Book

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 18:21:02 +0200

I've started out writing a children's book after a good few years of concentrating on short stories.
The concensus seems to be that writing for children is harder than writing for adults and I don't disagree with this.
I am currently hovering at around the 14000 word mark and battling with the temptation to radically change things until I've got a first draft down. It's for 8-12 year olds and is based loosely around some adventures from my own childhood.
If anybody has any experience in writing for children or in getting published or otherwise, I would be grateful to hear your advice, as it is (as you are all aware) an extremely lonely road to walk.

Comments

Define tears

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 16:12:20 +0200

Tears are like the rain, which try and cleanse the pain,
Tears are a motion that convey emotion,
Tears are like the river, but what exactly do they deliver?
Tears are like the ocean, full of salt and cyclical commotion,
Tears can be the sign of true happiness, joy, smiles and pure contentness,
Tears can also be melancholic, far from the fun and frolic,
Tears are condensation resulting from the hearts sheer contemplation,
Tears enhance the iris colour providing the needed contrast for the previous pallor,
Tears are small drops, falling in one direction; down they go from the minds reflection,
Tears can take you through a trance, but when they are gone you can sing and dance,
But once I was told that tears are like people, full of water and can be lethal.

Comments