I am always amazed at what comes from the topics set at our Writers’ Circus meetings.
Choosing arose from a challenge to write about ‘the thing you love best’ or ‘my favourite thing’.
Once the first few words were on the page the rest came in a rush, one of the easiest stories I have ever written, perhaps because the material was all there, in my noddle.
Have a go, you might enjoy it!
At Writers’ Circus we were challenged to write a piece about flying.
This tale recounts a short joy flight we experienced in Australia when visiting friends.
It happened a long time ago, but the take-off and landing trauma is with me still.
Far better to be in a big, big plane, with eyes firmly closed.
This short piece of nonsense was a response to a Writers’ Circus challenge.
We were asked to write about an exchange of emails or letters.
After a few false starts, this surreal piece wrote itself.
This is a tale of a man who goes out into the gloom of a blustery afternoon in late autumn in search of prawns to make a spicy stir fry. . ..
Recently I came across what turned out to be an older version of this story that was full or errors!
I went at once to this website and read the ‘posted’ version which, while passable, needed improvement.
Here is the revised version.
This is a trilogy of small tales based on a few of my forays into Italy, and the resulting confusion that resulted when I tried to communicate in pidgen Italian.
Thanks again to Kareth Paterson for her editorial improvements.
At least I know one person has read these tales!
At Writers’ Circus we were set the challenge, “Be careful when you tell a lie.”
This tale wrote itself and after comments from the group, here it is.
This is a trio of tales from our family archive.
I am sure that my version of the ‘truth’ of what happened will be disputed.
That, however, is the power of my pen.
Ah, yes. I know. I know. Men cannot ‘do’ suffering.
Here it is, my tale of woe about a heavy cold, now passing into history, I hope.
This tale is 98% true.
We boarded a bus heading for Glasgow. . .
This piece contains ‘vernacular’ language, as was used by some of our fellow travelers.
This is a little tale generated to answer the question set at our Writers’ Circus group, “Why does this/it always happen to me?”
I hope it will feel almost real to denizens of Glasgow.
For others from further afield you may have to interpolate/guess to understand the dialogue.
“Clatty Pats” (Cleopatra’s) is a nightclub which features in Glasgow’s very busy night-life. A few years ago I read that on an average weekend there can be over 300,000 revelers in Glasgow city centre.