Day 58 - 30 seconds and Day 59 - 30 hours

When I wrote this story I had it down right until the moment Izzy left the bookstore with her signed copy of her idol's autobiography. But, and pardon the crudity, when I was sitting on the loo thinking about the next story (yes I think about writing anywhere and everywhere!) I decided that I didn't want to leave this one alone. I felt that there was another tale to tell from the perspective of the popstar. We sadly live in a world where first impressions are all too often how we judge others. We have no time to investigate the whys or wherefores or wonder why people act the way they do and whether that is their true self or not. This is especially true when it comes to those in the public eye as we tend to believe a lot of what we read in the papers. We know it's sensationalist most of the time yet the images and perspectives of the journalists are how we view those people.

I wanted to do a kind of JLo style story here. Remember her video of, I can't remember the song, but it was when she was going out with Ben Affleck and she made that video of random situations that could be totally misconstrued, well this is how I wanted my story to be. I wanted my dreamy eyed groupie to tell her passion and desire to encounter the love of her life, pop star Marc Donovan. I then wanted to explain the hectic and exhausting life of that same pop star.

Day 60 will be The Brief Encounter. Wait and see!

Enjoy both tales

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 57 - The house of leaves

I had the title of this story before I had the premise or the plot. There is a book called The House of Leaves, which my sister has read and which I gather is rather complicated and involves decipher codes or notes or something. Unless I have the time I really can't be doing with such books. I'm not a detective and I have no patience any more. Anyhoo, I loved the title and for this story decided to take it literally to mean a house of leaves, or more specifically a naturally occuring hut that forms every autumn when leaves fall onto the carcass of a dead tree. I liked the idea of a battle between two rival gangs over ownership of the hut every year but wanted this story to be about them both being faced with the ultimate foe and how they have to band together to evict the unlikely and fearsome resident to reclaim what they feel is theirs. Ultimately it means though that the race for ownership is in fact a draw and that sharing it will be the only way forward. At least until next year.

This is kind of my home ground really, writing quirky off the wall stories that have elements of current issues in them. The current issue here being the existence of Big Cats. It is loosely modelled on my own home village which has a sizeable forest that borders two villages and has (apparently) a Big Cat of its own, although only a couple of people have claimed to have seen it.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 56 - Jasper

I don't have a story today because I'm feeling pretty down. I've had to give up my dog to my parents because his arthritis has progressed to the point where he can't manage the stairs to my flat. So instead of a fictional story I'm going to tell you about my dog.

I have a Golden Retriever. His name is Jasper. He was born on 15th November 1997 on a farm in Wales. He's a registered pedigree dog with the most ridiculous Kennel Club name ever thought of: Moany Mondeo. For a start the adjective 'moany' couldn't be a more inaccurate descriptor. He's the happiest dog ever known to man. I know I'm his owner and I'm bound to say that but it is the truth. He's never been a great lover of other dogs; he tends to give them just a cursory glance when out for a walk, but people-oh my god!. Jasper loves people. He's a little unsure about young children but he loves older kids and adults. He makes a beeline for them whenever he sees them. He'll bound up to them wagging his tail, panting and staring up at them with his big eyes. Once he's been petted by them he's happy and will leave them alone, but he has to greet them. It's always a bit of a talking point as everyone I encounter comments on what a lovely dog he is. And it's true (although I am biased naturally). This trait comes as a bit of a surprise to me, especially given what Jasper and I have been through over the years.

Jasper was given to me at the age of twelve weeks by an ex-boyfriend as a valentine gift. I remember the very first time I saw him. I was sat in the living room of the house I shared with my boyfriend one day, watching TV. I heard the front door shut but then heard nothing. So I poked my head round the lounge door and there sat bolt upright in the hallway, bold as brass, was this little, fluffy orange-blonde blob. He had huge dark eyes, a rosy pink nose, fluffy, saucer-shaped paws. Being a huge dog lover I scooped him up in to my arms and sat him on my lap. I grabbed the phone and instantly called my mother.
"So what are you going to call him?" she asked.
"I've got no idea," I replied. "But he's funny and orange."
My mum pondered my bizarre description and said, "What about Jasper?"
Although she never explained why she came to that conclusion I always assumed it was an homage to Jasper Carrott (a famous british comedian from the 80s).
"Perfect!" I said.
That first night my boyfriend made him sleep downstairs. He baracaded the stairs so Jasper couldn't get up. It broke my heart as I wanted to have him in the bed with me. I knew that wasn't practical but as the night wore on and Jasper's whimpering didn't subside I gave in to temptation. I went downstairs, picked Jasper up and plopped him down on a rug beside me.
Our early life together wasn't rosy. When my relationship fell apart I found myself in a quandry. Jasper was mine, there was no disputing that, but I had to find somewhere for us to now live. As luck would have it, I managed to find a house share that allowed a dog. I moved out that day and moved, in about ten miles down the road, with a guy that had a large semi. But that situation didn't last. I came home one day and received a letter from my landlord asking me to leave. No explanation. I was panic-stricken. I scoured the papers looking for alternative accommodation hoping that there would be somewhere else we could go, but my search was fruitless. I found I had to do the unthinkable; I rang my ex. He agreed to take Jasper in until I found a more suitable arrangement. Had I known then what was about to happen I would never have taken him there, but I was desperate. I dropped Jasper off and moved myself out of the house share and into a bed-sit. I wasn't there very long before the flat above me flooded and I came home to devastation. My belongings were ruined and I had no insurance. I found somewhere else to live, luckily, but it wasn't the most ideal of situations. That, however, was the least of my problems. When I went to visit Jasper one day I was horrified with what I saw. My boyfriend had kept him locked in a back bedroom. The room was stripped bare: no carpets, no curtains. Jasper was living amongst a ladder and various other decorating equipment, paint pots, rollers, brushes and general domestic rubble. Jasper was so desperate to get out he'd been scratching the door. I screamed at my ex, demanding to know why he was treating Jasper this way. He offered no explanation but I was sure it was just to get back at me. With no plan in place I scooped my eighteen month old dog up and put him in my car. The only option I had was to call my parents.
I drove through the evening, two hundred miles up the M6 to Scotland, and tearfully dropped Jasper off with people I knew I could trust and rely on to care for Jasper. After my failed relationship and my disillusionment at living in Manchester I had already begun searching for work in Scotland (my intention being to return) and a few months after I left Jasper under the care of my parents I was reunited with him. I couldn't have been happier.

Ever since then Jasper has lived the life of a king. He's had a lovely house to roam about in, a nice garden to pee all over, woods and fields to gambol through, friendly villagers to pet and coddle him, mounds of soft toys to shred, numerous holidays that have taken him to Cornwall, where he was admired by an Italian woman who called him 'a little angel' in Italian (I had to laugh!), Wales, Skye, Loch Ness, Aviemore and the Lake District.

He has his dislikes: polished floors, long walks, pigeons. And his passions: my sofa, gouging out the eyes of his teddies, food, food and more food. Now I know that food is an obvious one. All dogs love food. But Jasper goes the extra mile in order to fulfil his craving and has gotten me into trouble on numerous occasions as a result of it.
For example my dad took Jasper for a walk one day and stopped to talk to a villager as he exited his home. Little did my dad know that Jasper meanwhile had snuck into the villager's kitchen, pulled out a shrink wrapped packet of raw chicken from his shopping bags and begun to chew on it. My dad was contrite and luckily the villager was a friend and found the incident rather amusing. But that's not the only ocassion Jasper has had his nose where he shouldn't. I found him on the road munching on a bread roll one morning. After a little detective work I found my neighbour had left her shopping bags by the steps to her garden. Jasper again had dug his nose into the plastic bag and pulled it out.
On another occasion my mum had taken some chicken thighs out of the freezer to defrost which Jasper had pulled down off the kitchen worksurface and gnawed on. Before my mum found out and had a hairy fit I rushed to the supermarket to replace the contaminated chicken but could only find chicken legs on sale. My friend was bent double in hysterics as she watched me hack chicken legs with a cook's knife to make them look like thighs. Luckily I did an excellent job (perhaps I should have been a butcher not a writer) as mum never suspected a thing (although if she reads this I'm sure she'll have something to say about it).

But Jasper hadn't always eaten edible things. I've sadly had him at the vets a few times after he'd eaten my mother's spectacles, and then on a separate occasion a pile of pig pellets which resulted in him undergoing an x-ray and a lengthy operation to remove the 'fibrous mass' from his intestine. The problem is he is a complete scavenger. In fact when I take him for a walk its a battle of wits as to whether I can keep him from vacuuming up scraps off the ground before he can find them.

For all his faults though I have put him through some trying times. Not least dressing him up for my sister's 30th birthday. The photographic evidence says more than I can ever say about that day.

So although he will only be five miles down the road from me. I'm going to miss him laying by my feet as I write my stories and farting indiscrimately!

Day 55 - The shamen's curse

I read an article today about a man in the states that has created the world's smallest model railway. This thing is literally the size of you thumb and is carved out of moulded plastic and is powered by a motor that is seemingly available from model stores. His idea was to have a model railway within a model railway. A neat idea, which gave me a neat idea for a bit of a gothic story.

This one centres around Wiley who has just bought a curse model of the village he lives in. But as Wiley starts to act out fictious stories surrounding the village and its residents whilst playing with it, those stories begin to come true. At first the stories are innocent but as the curse of the model village takes control of Wiley they become increasingly sinister and violent.

There is no blood and gore in this as I really wanted to do a gothic middle grade story as I know when I was aged 8 - 12 I loved gothic stories, and still do (read The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole, widely known as the first true gothic story published).

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 54 - Paw prints

Did you know that there is a dog that paints? His abstract art works sell for £1000 and are displayed in New York galleries. Who would have thought it. I told my friend this on the weekend and she promptly told me to shove a brush in Jasper's paws and get him to earn his keep(Jasper is my geriatric Retriever). Naturally I didn't, I'm too nice to turn Jasper into a money spinner. Besides he's more liable to eat the brush than paint with it. What I did do is come up with a story about a dog that revives the fortunes of a seaside town on the verge of bankruptcy because of declining tourism. At first the guerilla artist canine (modelled on Banksy but I recinded from calling the dog Pawsy)paints for pleasure, then for profit, then rebels and starts to paint the town-red!

I actually wrote this one in about an hour and a half. I'd just come back from visiting a friend's art exhibit at a local festival (we had lunch afterwards at a bakery. Fisher and Donaldson fudge donuts can't be beaten in my opinion!) and wanted to participate in the Quiz night at my parent's village hall. It's a hotly contest annual event with the prize being a six inch high cup (I did say it was hotly contested, didn't I?). I managed the quiz, although my team lost, sadly. Never mind, there's always next year.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 53 - Soaring

There was a major accident at a crossroads near where my parents live, yesterday. It's a terrible accident black spot as people using both the roads that intersect each other as though they're formula one tracks. The occasions I've been past it and seen fresh bunches of flowers tied to the fence, I've always felt very melancholy. Such a senseless waste.

Anyhow I was feeling pretty somber about it as although it was a bad accident I don't think there were any fatalities (or at least that's what I'm hoping). But with that in mind I couldn't help but filter it into a story. And so I created 'Soaring'. The tale of a girl (who's sex is only revealed by her bike), that has been in an accident and is between worlds.

I always find writing emotional drama a bit challenging. I'm never sure if I'm emotive enough without being overpowering. Well I'll leave it for you to decide.

Enjoy!

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 51 - The ugly truth

After my recent wine tasting I was sat in my friends garden munching on cheese and french bread (ah that's the life!) and out of the blue said 'Why are spiders ugly?'. Was it alcohol fuelled ramblings or true philosophical musings? Who knows. What it did do though was give me an idea for a story.

It's just a little one with a daughter and grandfather pondering that very question. I was conscious of this one becoming too didactic so tried to tone down the explanations as to why the spider has evolved to become a hairy, leggy, eight eyed horror (yes I hate spiders, even though they serve a very useful purpose).

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 50 - Lost and found

The idea for this one was planted by my father. He writes too, although mostly stage and screen plays, and had an idea of a homeless boy befriending a stray dog. Naturally I took the idea and swivelled it around on its head and came up with an unorthodox search and rescue mission conducted by a dog who senses that all is not well in his house.

Initially I just used the name Rover as a substitute until I came up with a name that was less cliche, but as I wrote the story I realised that it actually said a lot about his character and his purpose in the story, so I decided to keep it.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 49 - Hot and Cold

A bit of humour to start the week off. I always enjoy writing stories with a bit of bite to them and this one I particularly love, especially the sharp tongue of my protagonist, Libby. She has the quick wit I always wished I had so I enjoyed living vicariously through her, if not for just a few hundred words.

I think the only challenge was trying to maintain the pace and wit, but with a bit of perseverence and forethought I think I pulled it off.

What do you think?

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 48 - Tales from Grimwold:Gilivan the Gryphon

Lets hope I getting back on track.

I've been toying with the idea of creating a mythical world with which I can craft a few stories. I have an idea for a ghost related one which I'm investigating and hope to have something in the pipeline for the future. But Grimwold is more of a mythical place. I suspect this one is more likely to be a serial than a series, but we'll see. I have an idea for a continuation or two so you may see the intrepid Macadam Snore again. Incidentally his name is an anagram of my nephew's name!

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 47 - The purple pirates

Its funny how you react when life throws you a curve ball isn't it?

I admit that I'm completely not happy with this story. I'm not going to make excuses but given this is a blog about writing and how life impacts on writing I feel I should divulge why I'm not happy.

My dog is not well at the moment. He's not been well for sometime and today it came to a head, of sorts. I'll back up a bit here. My dog is 12 years old. He's been with me since he was 12 weeks old. Both of us have been through the mill over the years but we have a pretty comfortable life now. However, my dog has severe arthritis. He was diagnosed when he was 6 years old and although I was told it was going to get worse as he got older, inspite of taking medication to ease the condition, I secretly was in denial that that was going to happen. The last few weeks he's shown signs of deterioration-inability to climb the stairs to my flat, general sluggishness when out for a walk. Yesterday I had to physically coax him down the stairs to go for a walk with choc drops. To see him standing at the top of the stairs, trembling because he wanted to come down but couldn't work out how to do it was heartbreaking. After a trip to the vet it became a reality that I was going to have to give him up at some point to my parents (who live in a cottage with no stairs). He's with them at the moment whilst he goes through a new course of medication. So I'm feeling blue and it's causing a mental block in my brain.

Anyway there it is.

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 46 - The envelope

A snap shot in time story. That's what this is. It's a moment that every person on the planet over the age of 16 can relate to. That dreaded moment when the exam results come through your door. I remember it well. Three times at the age of 15, then 16 and my final certificate came at 17. The anguish and torment and being so close to having your life change irreparably.

So I wanted to capture that moment in a story. But I didn't want it to be too introspective, too serious so I decided to put a slightly humorous spin on it by having the neurotic mother bleating in the background.

I probably would have drawn it out a bit further but to be honest, towards the end I came down with serious stomach cramps (which I'm still feeling as I type this blog). So I curtailed it. Perhaps that was the nature order of the story, perhaps fate took a hand and made me keep it short and sweet. You decide. Anyway I'm off to lay down and watch Matrix Reloaded.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 45 - Blaze

details to come

Day 44 - Forty winks in forty words

When I was washing up tonight the number forty popped into my mind. Not sure why. It may have been down to the fact that I had just been counting how many spiders were dangling outside my kitchen window (luckily there were not 40, just 8, otherwise I would be writing this blog from the other side of the planet!). I knew I wanted to write a really short story and so when this number landed in my head I immediately thought forty winks. It was the first thing that came to me. From there the idea of writing a dream in forty words that had a beginning a middle and an end. A tall order.

The more I thought about the dream state the more I realised that when we all go to bed, even as a child, we have the weight of the world upon our shoulders. Granted the types of problems kids worry about are different to those adults worry about but the prinicipal is the same. Then when we awake we are refreshed. The problems of the day before diminish, to make way for new ones. Inbetween that time is dream time. The idea of traversing your childhood in a night, picking out the elements of it that evoke the most happiness seemed like the perfect way to go from troubled to calm.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 43 - Unearthing Harry Sands

Last year there was a local news report about a man that had thrown a message in a bottle into the north sea off the coast of Orkney when he was eleven years old. Twenty five years later the bottle washed up on the West Sands of St Andrews (the town the now 33 year old, lives in). He was reunited with his bottle to much amazement.

That story had been sitting in my head waiting for me to turn it into something else. And then on Monday an idea was born for 'Unearthing Harry Sands'. This one was quite a complicated one to construct in my limited time frame and to be honest I finished it just after midnight (talk about knackered!). But despite the pressure I put on myself I really enjoyed crafting this story. The one real challenge, given that I wasn't tell the story from the very beginning, was filtering in all the elements of Holly's research. I hope I succeeded. But judge for yourself.

I should also add that I complicated matters for myself considerably by making an apple pie as well. Whilst I was peeling the apples I had my netbook beside me, making notes about the plot as they occurred to me. I think I must have a slightly sadistic streak in me to make my life needlessly complex!

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 42 - Alter egos

Would you believe I got the idea for this one from a car wash!

I kid you not. I was walking my dog, searching my brain for today's story and as I rounded the corner to the car wash at the petrol station there was a large cloud of white mist emanating from it that gusted across the street. From the time it took to walk from the station to my flat (approximately 100 yards) I had an idea of mist turning a kid's parents into kids, but in reality it was all a dream.

I instantly felt a real buzz and was itching to get to my laptop to write it up. So after dining on beans on toast (my meal planner at the moment consists of meals that can be prepared in five minutes or less - that is the criteria when I browse the aisles at Morrisons!), I got to it. I did have a rather cheeky glass of wine though, to take off the edge. It's only the start of the week and it's gonna get crazy.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 41 - Walter the dead genius

I'm wrestling with the 'show don't tell' issue at the moment. I'm finding that in order to keep the stories to a minimum in terms of length I'm having to put some element of telling into the story as a background, otherwise the stories would be ridiculously long. I noticed it particularly with this story. When I felt there was too much telling I went back over it and injected some dialogue to break it up. Being conscious of pace etc I'm feeling its necessary to get some kind of balance between the two. What do you think?

Also I'm realising that I could not live without the internet. I mean my everyday life would suffer but my writing and this project would be seriously compromised. Having any information at your finger tips is incredibly valuable. For example, take this story. How much time would it have taken me to find a picture of a 19th century school boy that I could use for one line in the story? With the net I got it in 60 seconds. I know you know that but did you really stop and think?

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 40 - TIDI

So I came up with this one as I was lying in bed this morning. My alarm went off at 8am and I realised 'I have to write a story before noon'. The reason for the urgency, as readers may remember from yesterday's post, was the wine tasting afternoon. Two hundred reds, whites, roses and champagnes. It was a really enjoyable day, and I felt vindicated when I managed to guess an expensive wine against a cheap wine. Although the event was from noon until 4pm my friend and I only lasted until 2. By then we were feeling a little woozy (not enough spitoons), so, with a touch of the munchies, we continued our refined afternoon with a visit to the local cheese shop, I M Mellis(I love this place even though it smells of feet), and spent what felt like a months salary on cheese. Then after a trip to the bakers for a french stick and, what I can only describe as heaven in a bun, the famous Fisher and Donaldson fudge donuts (ah mahoney!), we were set for picnicing in the sunshine.

As for the story. I was pleased with how quickly this one came out. It was proof really that I can commit and produce something with little time on my hands. I also think that when my deadline for production is tight my writing is much more succinct. What do you think?
Anyway the idea came from a kid's drawing of a robot, which got me thinking what if a boy invented a robot that did his chores, and what would happen if he overworked it. And thus TIDI was born: the Technological Initiator of Direct Instructions.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 39 - Not enough nuts!

This is a cute little fable I put together. It's just a short one, but to be honest it's good to scatter a few briefer stories in amongst some meatier stories, especially when you've just written a gothic horror. Who would have thought that squirrels would have succeeded that one!

I was a little concerned that this one may come across as being a bit patronising as i know kids can sniff out a story they feel is talking down to them, which was why I played up the character of Nuts and made him a bit of a loveable lazy squirrel. I'm sure even adults can relate to having the odd lazy, day of procrastination. Although the bottle of wine I had with my pizza might have had something to do with that. I recommend Hardy's Chardonnay. Really nice wine.

For those interested I should be able to give you some more vinery recommendations as I'm at a four hour wine tasting tomorrow. As I said to my friend I better get tomorrow's story written before I go otherwise it'll probably be a story about flying goblins or skateboarding clouds.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 38 - The last pawn

I honestly don't know where the idea for this one came from. I think my warped, sadistic mind was on overdrive as the notion of having a human chessboard crept in.

Fortunately I came up with this one yesterday so I had some time to think about it. I had a few ideas as to how I wanted to put it together, but they all seemed unnecessarily complicated and would have meant the story was twice as long as it actually was. So I basically divided it up into three key scenes. That's the formula I'm trying to use for all my stories to keep them as brief as possible. Sometimes it doesn't work but then that's life.

As turned out the story took longer for me to write than I expected. At 11.30pm I gave up trying to finish it on the day so posted what I could and finished the rest on Friday. I can safely say that this week has been really difficult. But I'm soldiering on. No pain no gain, right?

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 37 - Critter Twister

'Raining cats and dogs' was the inspiration for this story, perpetrated by a freak storm that sucked up anything with legs and a heart (humans excluded). I do actually really like writing animal stories, which is no surprise really given my novel is about a dog.

So despite the fact that I had to create another story today to make up for yesterday's lapse I managed to put another together as well as come up with a premise for tomorrows story. Watch out now for a bit of a gothic horror tale...

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 36 - Making bluebirds

I've faltered.For the first time. Today I had no premise. Only a bare idea which I couldn't get to work. Or perhaps not so much get to work I just couldn't get my head in gear. Today I got some bad news which is playing on my mind. There is no excuse for delayed production. I know it is going to sting me tomorrow when I have to finish a story and write another one. And what's more I have to produce a newsletter for the university library. Where am I going to get the time?

Please, everyone, collectively give me some strength. This week I need it.

So I finally posted a story, albeit a little late. This was a quickie that I put together at lunchtime. Though it means I now have no premise for today's story. Gonna have to get my thinking cap on again!

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 35 - The jester and the frog

I had no plan with this story. To be perfectly honest. I actually let it come out as I wrote it. I knew I wanted to write a story about a boy who tells lies, but that was all that I had. Then as I sat down in front of my laptop I pondered the idea of a boy that tells lies he thinks are true. That then led me on to a boy who tells the life of someone else that he thinks is his own. Naturally such a connection, I felt, could happen between twins.

Immediately the story started to take shape in my mind. Given the fanciful idea I thought a fantasy land would be the best back drop and one which I could really play up the flamboyant stories the main character Leasere weaves. For anyone interested the names in the story are all derived from Old English. Leasere means jester and Gebroor means brother. I have a love for old english words and felt that they complemented the fantasy element to the story nicely.

Anyway, enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 34 - The leopard and the mouse

This is going to be another of my favourite stories. It turned out rather differently from what I at first envisaged. I got the idea from a photograph in a newspaper of an audacious little mouse feasting on a leopard's food whilst the leopard, a female called Sheena, looked on. I knew there was a story there but originally had the leopard as a depressed recluse rather than just a shy one. The more I thought about the story the more I thought Sheena being shy and seemingly without a talent in comparison to the other animals the more I thought the mouse could play a role in bringing her character out and giving her purpose.

I tried to keep the dialogue deliberately simple and snappy and kept the involvement of the crowd to a minimum as I didn't want to draw away from the conversation between the mouse and the leopard too much. I thought it would make the story too jerky. You make think differently. I'll leave it up to you.

Anyway I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 33 - For the love of the game (part 2 - final part)

For those that live in the Fife area, you'll know that there was no golf today owing to the fact that the wind was so strong today it blew me across Morrisons carpark (with my trolley).

But in spite of that I am posting the rest of my golf story, as promised. I did enjoy writing this one. Golf, as a St Andrean, is integral to my life. Most of my family are involved in some way or other in the golf industry so it was only a matter of time that I'd write a story about it.

The only problem I really had with this one was when I wrote the beginning reflective scene where Mackenzie looks back on a discussion he had with his grandfather. Initially I wrote it as a dialogue but then realised that that wouldn't work and actually jerked the reader from present to past then back to present. So I phrased most of it in prose which I think makes the writing and the reading flow better.

Enjoy

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 32 - For the love of the game (part 1)

So its Dunhill Cup weekend this weekend here in windy St Andrews and I thought I'd write a golf themed story. I started this story last weekend but, and I'm going to be honest, I'm am absolutely exhausted this week. For the first time I feel expired. Though having to produce stories when I've been speaking at events or helping the family does impact on energy levels. So don't shoot me when I've only produced half a story. I will post the rest tomorrow, promise!

Enjoy, what's there

The Imaginary Scrapbook

Day 31 - The Black Band

I got the idea for this story this morning after reading about a quite disturbing trend in the school yard. Kids, mostly pre teens, are wearing coloured plastic bangles that denote various sexual acts, either that they are willing to participate in or have already done. I couldn't believe it myself that kids as young as eight were saying they were expecting to have sex if one of their bangles were snapped. I don't quite know how this started up but I felt obligated to write a piece on it.

I did have in my mind to write a much darker story today and did struggle with whether I should make the story more graphic but opted to make it a 'rape that almost happens'. I thought that would get the essence of the story across without terrifying kids.

I will say though that I did draw on a personal experience that happened to me when I was 11 for this particular story. I don't know whether that helped the writing or not. Certainly I found some parts easier to write than others, but it did help me get into Kayleigh's shoes more realistically.

Enjoy, if I can really say that for this story,

The Imaginary Scrapbook