A Winning Autumn! NaNoWriMo and Flash Fiction

So it is nearly Christmas and what have I done?  Quite a lot as happens, I've surprised even myself!

To get the bad news out of the way, the third Aten Sequence book - 'Tomb of the Golden Osiris' is still in bits on my laptop awaiting radical revision and rebuilding. A project for the dark winter nights of early 2016!

For the first time this November I participated in National Novel Writing Month - NaNoWriMo.

The aim of this challenge is to write 50,000 words of a novel from scratch between 1st and 30th of November.  NaNoWriMo was set up to get writers writing and words on the page.  The goal is to get the procrastinators amongst us to commit to their writing and produce something.  Who doesn't have folders on their laptop that have the first five pages of that brilliant idea you had back in 2002 or outlines of plots? All you need at the end of the month is 50,000 words, not a revised, edited, fully polished novel - that comes later.

Like everything in life, it is probably best you have no clue what it is going to be like until you do it. I signed up, calculated I would have to write 1667 words a day and talked about it a lot. 1st November was fortuitously a Sunday, but also the morning after the night before.  I managed a whopping 469 words and realised I had a challenge on my hands.

I won't lie, NaNoWriMo does take over your life for that month, but you get to know how you like to write and when, what excuses you make for not writing and how to push through when you really do not feel like it.

With a lot of support and encouragement from my friends I made it, with one day in hand and can now call my self a NaNoWriMo Winner. I also raised $313 in sponsorship, which goes to helping keep National Novel Writing Month going and run creative writing projects with young people. Thank you so much to all the amazing, generous people who sponsored me - you know who you are!

So now all I have to do to finish 'The Jackal Code' is write another 50,000 words, revise, edit, edit some more and then send it out there.  A busy 2016, me thinks?

Watford Writers Flash Fiction Competition - 'Revenge'

The flash fiction competition theme for Watford Writers on 7th December was no more than 300 words on the theme of  'Revenge'.  There were many excellent stories entered, with some truly fiendish plots and twists.  Don't upset some of these people, I'm telling you!  So I was thrilled to have won first place and big congratulations to Steve Clifford and Rachael Muirhead who came second and third.

So have read and see what you think.

Christmas Morning

By the time the body was taken away, the poor sod had been dead for hours.  I knew it didn’t matter.  The piece of shrapnel that took half his head off had seen to that.

It was Geordie I was worried about.  Geordie, who had held the bloodied corpse to his chest and rocked it like a baby.

‘What’ll I tell his Mam?’ he’d asked with bewildered eyes. ‘I promised I’d keep him safe.’

It took the sergeant, threat of a field punishment and hot tea laced with rum before he’d let go.

‘I made him join up,’ Geordie said.

‘Nobody’s fault, it’s this bloody war,’ I replied.  I saw the CO thread his way down the trench to rouse the men for stand to. ‘Pick up your rifle or you’ll cop it.’

Geordie stood up and shouldered his weapon.

‘I’ll kill those bastards.  Then his Mam will know I tried.’

‘Don’t talk daft! They’re soldiers, like us.  That shell was fired from miles away.’

Expecting the order to prepare for ‘morning hate’, I looked around. The Captain was huddled with the NCO.

‘A cake’s been sent over from the German lines. They want a truce for Christmas morning.’ I heard him say.

Geordie turned pale.

‘No bloody Christmas peace for them, they killed my mate,’ he screamed.

Before I could stop him, he had pulled the pin from a grenade and scrabbled over the top.  It detonated seconds later. I wept silent tears as blood-stained debris rained into the trench.

His shattered body hung on the wire, lit by the rising sun.  Down the lines the German soldiers started to sing a carol; its message of hope and love too late for Geordie to hear.

Flash fiction – or How I Got with the Programme!

I suppose you could say I came to writing via a circuitous route.  I started the first Aten Sequence book a few months before I went travelling in 2007 around Australia, with all good intentions of having it finished by the time I returned. Well that never happened – too many beaches, kangaroos, outback trails, excellent restaurants and fun to be had!

On my return I discovered an American website called Hubpages and started writing articles and earning money online, so fiction writing was firmly on the back burner.  After several years, I turned back to my original project and the first two Aten Sequence books were completed and self-published

But like all things, if you are passionate about what you do, you want to learn, you want to improve, and want your writing to be the best it can be. So how to do it?  Of course, one of the best ways is to keep on writing, so I started writing short stories as well as starting on the third Aten book.  I also started reading everything I could on composing stories, structuring novels, marketing and how to get book reviews.

But the thing that always puzzled me was the amount of people who wrote flash fiction. Why?  What was the point of it?  Flash fiction, if you have never come across the term before, is a very short, complete story of under 500 words or so.  There is even micro fiction, which is generally accepted as a story of 300 words or less.  But if you have novels to write, why spend your precious time crafting these stories?

I finally learned the benefit of flash fiction and how I could use it to improve my writing skills when I joined a writers group.  Again this was something I had thought about for around three years before I plucked up the courage to attend one of the Monday night meetings, where regular flash fiction competitions are held. These stories have to be 300 words excluding the title and the theme is chosen by the group.

So how did starting to write flash fiction help to improve my writing?

·                   It made me start to consider every word I used and weigh up how important it was to the story.  Writing full length novels makes it very easy to fall into the trap of using too many words and indulging in long, rambling sentences.

·         If using adjectives and adverbs is the cardinal sin of writing, then flash fiction helps you eliminate them and forces you to find ways of conveying your meaning without using too many descriptive words.  If you have only got 300 to use, you want to make sure each one counts.

·         It helps bring clarity.  You have a story to tell, ideas to get across, points of view you want to share.  You have to get rid of all the waffling, rambling and going around the long way.  For a complete story you still need a beginning, middle and end, so you need to strip out all the unessential elements and get on with it.

·         This stripping out also means ditching characters, too much scene setting, and any dialogue that does not add to the plot.  The ‘KISS’ principle reigns supreme; to tell your story in so few words you have to keep it as simple as possible.

·         You need to wrap the story up with a decisive last line. It is too easy with so few words to leave a story hanging and not give your readers an ending that satisfies them.

·         Flash fiction poses a new challenge every time.  You are given a theme, a word count and you have to produce a piece of writing in set time period. Challenges can be scary but they push us out of our fur-lined writing ruts and test us to think differently about what we are doing and write on topics we would usually avoid at all costs.

.·        Writing flash fiction gives you the opportunity to have a long, hard look at the bad writing habits you have gotten into. What words do you habitually overuse? Do you have certain phrases or expressions that creep into every piece you write, whether they are appropriate or not?  In these very short stories, there is no place for your writing ‘comfort blankets’. They have to be discarded to crisp up your story and let it be told within the word limit.

I am no great expert in writing flash fiction and am relative newbie in producing these very short stories.  But I am already beginning to see the benefits and am starting to bring what I have learned to my longer projects.

So, if like me, you are sceptical about how writing flash fiction can help you develop as an author, why not give it a go?  There are competitions and sites online where you test out your skill or you can join a local writers group, where you will receive useful feedback and critiques.

Here is an example of flash fiction.  It is a story I wrote on the theme of 'beyond the gate' for the Watford Writers Group, which I am very proud to say won the third prize.  I hope you enjoy it.

The Darkest Hour

The shadows lengthened as the moon slipped behind the mountain.

Maren knew it was time to wake the American.  The wounded flyer would only get one chance and, if he didn’t get it right, they could both be dead by the time the sun rose.

He reached out and shook the sleeping man’s shoulder, shoving his other hand over his mouth to stop him calling out.

‘Time to go,’ he whispered. ‘The moon’s just set, so it’s as dark as it’s going to get. You need to keep low and make as little noise as possible.  I haven’t seen or heard one of their patrols in a couple of hours, but it doesn’t mean they’re not out there waiting for us to make a move.

Maren took the top off his water bottle and thrust it at the American, who took a few thirsty mouthfuls.

The young flyer gave the old Basque guide a grateful look as he handed back the bottle.

‘Won’t you come too?  Someone tipped the Nazis off, those patrols were waiting for us? It’s too dangerous to stay.’

Maren shook his head.

‘My family is here.  If I don’t go back I’m putting them all under suspicion.  Besides, Todor is only expecting one package.’

‘How can I thank you for what you’ve done for me?  You’ve risked so much?’

‘By not getting caught.  The Spanish border is over there by that stand of pine trees.  Get beyond the gate and you should be safe.’

At that moment a light flashed three times in the trees, the signal Maren had been waiting for.

‘You must go now,’ he said pushing the American out of the barn door, watching as he stumbled into the dying night to be swallowed by the darkness.

Flash Fiction - A Jolly Good Catch

This is a short story I wrote for a flash fiction competition at Watford Writers.    It was my first evening at the writing group and my first entry.  I was very proud my story was voted into second place.

A Jolly Good Catch

We’d always thought of Edmunds as a good catcher and usually we applauded him for it.

It was a good thing until that night.  A good chap to have fielding on the rutted, makeshift pitches we used for battalion cricket matches.  He could catch any ball that came at him, however fast. He’d always manage to wrap his fingers around it and throw it back in one rapid, seamless movement.

That night was bitterly cold.  There was an iron frost and the sky was full with the cold sparkle of stars.  The half moon threw shadows over No Man’s Land, turning shell holes into pits of stygian hell. Moonlight glinted off the rifles and bayonets of the dead, strewn like random, broken puppets across the frozen mud.

We huddled on the fire step waiting for a German raid. The frigid air carried every sound we made, so each cough, foot stamp and curse must have carried to the German lines.

All we could hear was crackling frost, distant shelling and a machine gun chattering down the line.  Every time a Very light briefly lit up the dark night we expected to see the raiding party creeping towards our wire.

We were so lost in our waiting that at first we paid little heed to the dark object that flew with a faint hissing noise over the parapet.

Edmunds, acting on his famous reflex, stuck out a hand and caught it.

‘Jolly good catch,’ cried one of the men as another Very light lit up the sky.

Edmunds looked down and seemed confused by what he’d caught.

‘Throw the bloody thing back over the wire.’ I screamed before scrambling to get as far away from him as possible.

But Edmunds didn’t move.  His usual faultless follow-through was gone.

The thing went off.  Ears ringing, I turned to see Edmunds explode into a human fire ball.  I saw his lips move, but could hear nothing over the roar of the flames.  His catch had probably saved us, but the price he paid was a hideous death by fire.