Mittwoch, 24. März 2010

Old ground and scary movies.

I know that I’ve mentioned my lethargy in regards to this shortening of my manuscript before, but I’ve nothing to report so I’ll come back to it.

I’ll be honest; I haven’t done a thing since my last post.
There, I’ve said it. It’s out now and I can’t take it back.

However, I do feel the tug of motivation nudging me to a fresh start again, so that’s got to be a good thing, right?

After I’ve finished it I’ll get back to the story I began all those many moons ago in Spain (!).
It’s a great idea and I find it hard to believe that I dried up on it so quickly, (It’s only 15000 words at the moment). The idea has so much to offer and blah blah fishcakes, I’m going back to finish it.

This time, however, it’ll be finished inside of 90,000 words and that’s even if the story hasn’t reached the grand finale, lol.
90,000 and that’s it, take it or leave it Mr. Publishing House.

The Ring is on TV at the moment. It’s probably one of the scariest movies ever made. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to watch it on my own but what can I do? Wake one of the kids up to sit with me?
Nah, I’ll man it out… gulp.

Right, enough twaddle, I’m off.
Reg :-)

Dienstag, 16. März 2010

In Print and famous… well one of them is right.

Sorry I’ve been away so long but I’ve been very busy surfing to find a market for an illustrated story of around 10,500 words.
t isn’t as easy as one would think.
If I were to need a publishing house for a graphic novel, a la Frank Miller style, I wouldn’t have a problem. The market is full of printers of comic books and their like and Andreas, (my half Spanish, half Dutch artist friend) is such a talented illustrator that I know we would be able sell it. However, the idea we had was to write a story and illustrate each page with a picture corresponding to the action described; and that seems to be the problem. Nobody prints or circulates these types of stories anymore.


The story is down and Andreas has a few tentative pictures, however we both think it’s not worth any more effort creating the illustrations until we find someone who might be interested.
Whatever, let’s see what comes out of it.

Next news is…

My 300 vampires story will be published in issue 4 of The Thinking Man’s Crumpet. As soon as it’s out I’ll put the address up here and you can all go out and buy it, lol.
No, just joshing there, however the story will come out in the next issue so I’m very happy about that. There’s no payment but it is something to put down on my woefully thin CV when I send Division off again. It’ll be nice to send my Mam a copy too.

The Editor for the House of Horror online magazine sent me a heart warming email yesterday as well. My story, (The Ides of March) has been pencilled in for issue 10, not issue 9 as I was originally told. Though I do get paid for this work, (the princely sum of 37 dollars I think) it won’t be in print, which I was disappointed about actually.

The thing is that when I sent it off I was under the impression it was an online AND printed magazine. The Duotrope’s Digest, which is a website that lists short story publishers, had House of Horror down as being a print magazine. However, when I asked about swapping my fee for a couple of copies I was told that they only print books on paper, short stories go online.


Ah well, why should it be easy when it can be hard, eh?
The rewrite for Division is going embarrassingly slow, I’m afraid. I can’t seem to find the time. I know it’s a weak excuse but I’m a busy guy, shift worker, Dad, drummer, writer and translator of lyrics… the list goes on. All I can say, (to mollify myself because nobody else needs mollifying) is that I’m on it, it isn’t going away and the cheque’s in the post.

Right, I’m off. Catch you again.

Reg :-)

Sonntag, 7. März 2010

Motherly Love : A short story.

It occurred to me that although I keep wittering on about my writing, you’ve never actually read anything that I’ve written.

So here’s a short 500 word story I sent in for the competition.

I hope you like it, it’s called…                 Motherly love.

The baby’s crying reached through the walls and pulled her out of their room and into the upstairs landing. She stood outside of the nursery not daring to go in, not daring to look.

Would it ever end she asked herself over and over again? Would this nightly torment ever let up?

No, it wouldn’t she knew, for this was her penance, her own private hell for taking a life, for committing the mortal sin of murder.

A tear welled up for all she had lost, how could she have been so stupid?
Would it really have been so bad to be a mother?

She pressed her hands over her ears in an attempt to block the sound out but she could still hear it, still hear the heart wrenching sound of her baby demanding attention; attention she would never be able to give.
In their bedroom her husband slumbered on, sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

She resented the easiness with which he coped with all that had happened but what had she expected? Men are like that. It had been her decision and hers alone. She hadn’t spoken with him about it because she knew he would never understand. Men never do, how can they? They go to work, come home and expect everything to be done for them.

A housewife is on the go from dawn to dusk and when, God forbid, a child comes along then she’s looking after two people, or maybe three or more. Men just don’t see it that way, they want a family, they want to play daddy but it’s the women who carry the burden, not the bloody men.

At the time she had thought she would never cope, that it would just be too much for her to bear. The decision hadn’t been easy but she didn’t see another way out. But now, after the deed had been done, she felt different.

The baby’s cries grew louder, echoing around her head and she closed her eyes in guilt ridden grief and self loathing. Why did she do this to herself every night, why?

The moon shone bright through the window, illuminating her hand hovering over the handle but she didn’t dare touch it. She would never go in, she knew that; but every night she stood outside the door and listened to her lost baby crying, weeping for what might have been.

They could have been a family, they could have been three, but not anymore; she had seen to that.

The bawling grew hysterical, it always did but still she didn’t move; defying her curiosity to go in, though it hurt like hell to do so.

Suddenly the door to their bedroom banged open and Mark walked out, half asleep and mumbling.

She stepped back to let him pass. She was invisible to him at this hour; in the day he sometimes talked to her, or to himself, but mostly he ignored her.

In the cold, silent moonlit corridor she watched mutely as he opened the nursery door.

She knew it would be best to go now but she couldn’t move. She watched as he bent down and picked up the screaming bundle, cooing softly to it.

“There now Sarah, there now,” he hushed into her ear. “I know, I know you want your mummy but she’s in heaven now, she left us to be with Grandma and now it’s only you and me.”

She turned and left, as she always did when he started to cry.

Samstag, 6. März 2010

Back from the land of the Bard, Sheep and Rugby Ball...

Well I’m back! Wales was great, my family are getting on well and it just went from good to brilliant all week. I spent far too much money in the pubs but, ah well, what did I expect? Right, to bizniz!

First off, I didn’t win the competition, sniff…
A lot of people wrote to the website to say they liked the story but the standard of the winner’s stories was very high and I didn’t feel cheated, despite all the encouragement from the other contestants.
The next competition is to write a short about snow and I’ve a doozy of an idea which I can’t wait to start on.

Speaking of websites…
I was supposed to be in print this week but I wasn’t!!!
If you remember, I received my first acceptance email for a magazine and website saying that I would be included in issue 9. Well issue 9 is here but my Ides of March story isn’t to be found in its crinkled innards.

I won’t lie, I was a tad miffed, but I’m over it now.
Anyway, I’ve shot off a quick mail to ask if they’re going to use it and if not, then I’ll send it off to another website that Richard of Struggling Authors sent to me.

I don’t know, it seems we would-be writers are treated as the lowest of the low, doesn’t it?

Yes we want it, we love it… oh we forgot to print it.

What a shambles… lol.

Actually I’m more worried about my 37 Dollars payment…

And it doesn’t stop there!
The band I write for has come up with another two songs for me to scribble lyrics to. Good grief, it’s all go for ginger boy, I can tell you!
However, it’s a labour of love that only my wife could resent so I’m happy.

Right, that’s it for now.

Hwyl fawr!