Getting My Writing Mojo Back

Whether it’s a tempory high or a sign that this current  haze of anxiety and depression is passing, my motivation is back with a vengeance.  There are lists upon lists of things I want to write, make and fix.

One terrifying task looming on the horizon is the dreaded driving test.  I am straddling the line between avoidance and obsessively worrying.

It’s been nearly a month since I wrote a post for this blog. In that time I have written a little but have mostly spent time planning and honing my skills with sentence structures and narrative arcs.

Back in May, I wrote a piece of Flash Fiction for Winchester Writers’ Prize. I had no luck with the competition  but I’m relatively happy with it and decided to share it with you lovely people. The prize offered adjudication for an extra charge. I haven’t done any editing since the adjudication, though i do think the feedback is useful. I’ll include it at the bottom. Let me know what you think.

Court shoes cling with tacky insistence to rotting floorboards. Each breath brings the dank scent of mold. My toe catches on a bottle. It’s chime echoes about the hall a mockery of the music that once played. It comes to jarring halt against a piece of wood, blocking the stairway to the stage. One shaft of light reaches the raised platform. The glass ceiling all but boarded over,
‘What have they done to you?’ I place one gloved hand on the board. A sharp pain stabs my palm. A spot of blood pools about the splinter, staining white gloves.
‘Perfect. Just bloody perfect,’
A scraping noise resounds, I lift my head to see a girl skating towards the stage.
‘Were you talking to y’self? Only mad people talk to themselves’
‘Nonsense.’ I say pulling the splinter free.
‘S’what I heard,’ she shrugs and skates up the plyboard onto the stage.
‘Do your parents know you are here?’ The girl slides back down and circles me on her heels.
‘They split a year ago. Dad’s workin’ and Mum’s moved away,’ she scuffs the floor ‘It’s the only place I got to skate.’
‘It was an ice rink when i was young. Dottie and I would dance by candle light the stars and moon shining down upon us.’ I look up to the boarded ceiling ‘all the magic’s gone now she’s dead.’ I push back the pain in my throat. ‘You don’t want to hear stories from an old lady.’
‘I don’t mind.’
I look her up and down, she seems genuinely curious.
‘If that’s the case I have something to show you. Here help me move this’ the board moved easily with her help. I bend low, my light blue skirt skimming the floor. I pry open a floorboard, my gloves growing messy with sticky dust. The tin box stils, just where Dottie and I left it. I open it, inside lies a photograph and two pairs of leather ice skates.
‘This is Dottie.’ I says pointing to the woman on the left, laughter lines crease her eyes and curls fly forward on a gust of wind. A younger version of myself stares at Dottie, besotted.
‘You miss her’ the girl says, it’s not a question. ‘I miss my mum too, we used to skate here, when it was a roller disco.’ I press the photograph into my pocket and pull out the blades.
‘Watcha doin?’ The girl asks as I prop myself against the wall and pull on a pair of ice skates.
‘Here put these on.’ I toss the other pair to her
‘There’s no ice.’
‘Isn’t there?’
The boards covering the windows slip away. Crystal clear light refracts onto white ice. The stage fills with ghostly musicians.
‘The magic never left this place after all.’
The girl slips and I skate to her side placing a firm arm under her back.
‘How did you-?’
‘I’m going to teach you how to really skate.’

  • The University of Winchester Writers’ Festival added a note.

    Note: The interaction between the old woman and the girl is moving in parts – I believe the girl is genuinely interested at the end. The piece is unnecessarily confusing however — knowing where they are, that the narrator is an old woman, would improve the immediacy of the story. Be careful of grammatical mistakes — they also make the story difficult to comprehend. But some nice work here.

 

Today’s Wordcount: 475

p.s Grammar is a super difficult thing for me, dyslexia is a bitch

First draft of my Flash Fiction

I don’t know if this is something unique to me, but I’m feeling more than a little embarrassed at taking so long to write a piece of flash fiction. I feel like I should just be able to hash out five hundred words and be done with it. five hundred words in a novel is barely a scene, I know I can write that amount in an hour and be relativity happy with it. I have always struggled with endings. I also really enjoy taking my time to get to know a character, dropping small hints and contradictions. With such a short I am having to be so much more concise.  I hope the more short stories I write the better my writing will get.  I’ve got to cut my flash fiction down from nine hundred. I don’t think that will be too tricky. I’m sure I have waffled on.

Having finished a draft of a story today I’m finding it difficult to get on with my novel. I’m just pretty darn pleased with myself. I want to leave the draft until at least tomorrow, just to give my brain a little space from it.

Today’s Word Count: 671

Research

Today I worked more on the flash fiction. I was looking at the location of an ice rink, as set forth by the rules of this month writers forum. My mum loved Granby Halls, she used to go roller skating all the time.

Looking into the history of the place it turns out it was built with a second hall, the Empress Hall, which originally served as an ice rink. The old place eventually got demolished in 1999. I was only eleven.

When looking at the sport I came across a few photos of awesome women from the 60’s. Time travel may well be an aspect in my story.

 

 

 

I only wrote a few key sentences of my story today so all together my word count is around 200

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A Witch an Ice Rink and a Time Capsule

I’m going to give this Flash Fiction Competition another go. I’m not leaving this one to the last minute. This months entry is due on 29th April. I could attempt the one before that, but i don’t do well with pressure.

The theme is Keep it Light and the plot has to be taken from the Fiction Square in this months copy. Roll two dice for characters, two for traits, one for the conflict, one for the location and a final one for an object.

I ended up with a  reluctant witch and a foolish skater at an Ice rink. One or both of them have suffered a loss and are in search of a time capsule. I’m looking forward to playing about with a light hearted plot as I tend to lean towards the darker aspects of fiction.

I’ve written out a rough plot. I like my characters, particularly the witch.  Fingers crossed I will actually submit this one.

Today’s word count, including the plot is: 270 words