Writing

Dipping my toe in the water.

I was talking on Twitter the other day with the lovely @Keris and @DianeShipley about writing. Well more specifically about not writing. Since I was young writing has always been something I’ve enjoyed and it’s always been on my list of dream jobs that are completely impossible and unrealistic. The last few years have taught me that whilst becoming a leading lady on Broadway is impossible and unrealistic, writing doesn’t have to be. It’s something I can at least try, I might fail but if I don’t try it then I’ll never know.

A couple of weeks ago Lee “Budgie” Barnett set a challenge on his blog. He has been writing Fast Fiction Challenges for a few years now, he asks people for a title of no more than four words and a word to be included in the text of the tale. He then writes a story of exactly 200 words using the title and word. For his birthday he challenged anyone who wanted to play to write a Fast Fiction with the title “Stranger and Stranger” and the word set. I’ve loved reading the responses Budgie comes up with, so I thought I’d have a go. Once I was done I realised that I’d written my first piece of fiction for years. It’s only a tiny step, but it’s a step in the right direction.

I’ve put my entry under a cut, so feel free to have a look at my brief foray back into the world of creative writing. Looking at it now I can see a few things I’d like to change, but I’m copying it across as it was written. If you want to read some of Budgie’s Fast Fictions than head over to here where all of his entries this year are collected (he’s been writing one a day since 1st June).

Stranger and Stranger.
She carefully lit the candles and looked down at the table she had painstakingly set, smoothing a barely visible wrinkle. She wanted every little bit of tonight to be perfect, with this in mind she had brought out the best table linen and cutlery, found a perfect cd and bought candles with scents that would complement the food she was serving. She’d spent two days slaving over the food, creating a feast she hoped he would appreciate.

She stood up sharply, hearing his footsteps on the gravel drive. The pounding of her heart sped up, she had dreamed about how this might play out time and time again.

She opened the door and gazed at the man standing opposite her, smiling shyly at him. She ushered him in, after dropping his bag in the hallway he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight, almost crushing hug. When he finally let her go she led him through to the table and fetched the first course.

She looked across the table, it felt more like they were two strangers than husband and wife. But then that was probably to be expected, they often said that soldiers never came home the same.

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