There beside a pile of slightly chipped plates and a cruet set was Bill Haley. It was the first in a deep pile of old LPs stacked vertically in a cardboard box at the edge of the car boot sale table...
A longer story of 4,500 words about the trials of being a fostered child and a foster parent. I have been neither so the detail is invented. To all those who have experience of either role, apologies for any errors.
A writing competition some years ago, challenged competitors to complete a published first half of a story from one of a number of famous writers. I chose Alexi Sayle. Following my efforts, I lost Mr Sayle’s first half and had to write my own. This story is thus my own work but thanks is due to Alexi Sayle for the title and initial idea. 1,800 words.
This 1,000 word story is structured according to women’s magazine specifications and was published by one of the high street publications. It is one of my early attempts to write from the first person, female perspective.
Suppose someone you love is kidnapped but that someone is terminally ill. How much effort would you put into paying the ransom? And if you insist it would make no difference, what if the person kidnapped would rather die now than later in pain? 1,200 words.
There was a fashion some years ago that allowed women to wear such skimpy clothing that their underwear was constantly on show. This story of 2,300 words attempts to understand the motives for doing so and the thoughts of those who noticed.
A story of 1,500 words that is, quite frankly, politically incorrect in today’s climate. But it describes the antics of university staff and students from past years. Some ideas have been influenced by the writings of Howard Jacobson.
This story of 2,300 words is a reflection of my experience of Africa. I was supposed to live there as a partner for 2 years. I lasted 6 months. The story line is fictitious but it might as well have been true.
A 2,000 word story about the notion of dying and being aware of it. Do the rules of ethics and morality change when you know you haven’t got much time left? Do you need to be alive to experience the consequences for social rules to matter?