Hunted – #FlashFiction

Image courtesy of Priya Bajpal

The colours are bright.

To my left, a lion shadowed by the trees. Watching. To my right a tiger, his orange body striped black. Amber eyes glowing fierce and hungry.

I’ve never felt so scared.

A scream is torn from my throat as I curl into a ball, waiting for him to spring.

Above me, the universe spins and collides. Stars crashing into planets. The end of something.

A warning.

Suddenly, blackness.

Relief.

My chest loosens. Heart slows.

The door cracks open.

‘Don’t you like your new nursery.’ My mother whispers, fiddling with the timer on my nightlight.

My mobile rotates, wallpaper looms.

I cry.

 

‘Hunted’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word flash fiction challenge, inspired by a photo prompt. Join in and/or read the other entries over at host Rochelle’s blog here

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Goal setting – Creating a vision board

 

This weekend my sister came to stay. We’re very different but it’s lovely to spend time together.  Sunday morning, while she was playing my piano I decided to refresh my vision board.

Half an hour later I had gathered a stack of magazines, scissors and was sitting at the breakfast bar cutting out headlines, random words and letters to spell out positive phrases.

‘Louise,’ she stage whispered making me jump. I hadn’t heard her come into the kitchen. ‘Are you blackmailing someone?’

‘Umm, no.’ I said while thinking God, what DOES she think of me.

‘Are you making a ransom note?’

‘No. I can promise there are absolutely no victims of kidnapping here, but you must swear NOT to go into the utility room.’

Her eyes flickered towards the door of the utility room and back to me.

‘If you were doing something,’ she shrugged, ‘As research for a book. I promise I wouldn’t tell anyone.’ (And THAT’S why I love her).

‘I’m making a visualisation board, for positive thinking.’ I said. Disinterested she wandered back to the piano.  I know, I know. I am SO disappointing for a crime writer sometimes.

Positive thinking isn’t something that comes naturally to me. By nature, I worry. A lot. My anxiety was exacerbated after a change in health led to disability and chronic pain which also threw clinical depression into the mix.

Alongside gratitude journaling, which I blogged about here, I find it really beneficial to my mood to keep a visual reminder of the things I want. Of the person I strive to be. My hopes and dreams. Goals for the future. Where I want my writing career to be.

Everything manmade in our world began as the seeds of creation in someone’s mind. No matter how unachievable they were told their goals were and regardless of the opinions of others, through belief and determination their ideas became a reality.

Ours can too.

Recently on YouTube I’ve discussed whether you can use the Law of Attraction to visualise your way onto the bestsellers list (you can watch that here). A vision board is an extension of that mind-set.

I love having such a positive board hanging in my study. When I’ve killed someone off (writing wise of course – sorry sis) I can spin around in my chair and the world is light once more.

 

 

If you want to make a board, here’s how: –

1) Gather images, headlines and random words; anything that catches your eye in a magazine (or print from online). Be completely open and do this from the heart. You’ll know if an image provokes a positive feeling and it doesn’t have to make sense. Don’t try to analyse too much what the stuff you are gathering means at this stage.

2) After you have a substantial pile, sift through it for a second time, discarding anything that doesn’t resonate as strongly with you this time around.

3) Glue or pin what’s left onto your board and leave it somewhere you can see it every day. Don’t worry if some of the images don’t make sense to you at this stage. Be patient and wait and see what happens, it should all become clear.

Alternatively you can make a board specific to goals you already have in mind.

Join us for an evening of books & mince pies!

 

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Like I’d ever let you REALLY have the last mince pie…

 

Do come and join Darren O’Sullivan and I at Waterstones in Peterborough on Thursday 20th December where we’ll be talking about, and signing, our books, along with answering any questions you might have from 5pm.

Peterborough is beautifully Christmassy in the evening with gorgeous lights, and if that doesn’t put you in the festive mood, we’ll also be bringing mince pies!

 

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Writing with sound – Placing a reader in the scene #writingtips

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“The world has music for those who listen.” William Shakespeare

My son is home for Christmas from uni with a mountain of both coursework and laundry. Studying media, one of his assignments is to record a two minute piece of writing of his choosing and add any sound effects he thinks should accompany it.

When we last spoke on the phone I knew he’d be doing this and he was on his way to get approval from his lecturer for the piece he wanted to record. What I didn’t know was that piece is the opening to my debut, ‘The Sister’. His lecturer thankfully said he felt right in the scene as he read it and that it is the perfect piece to record.

I’ve written before about bringing the senses into prose when writing (you can read that here). Making the reader feel as though they are right there with the characters, feeling what they feel, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear.

Sound is one of the most powerful senses, believed to be the last thing to go when we die. When I’m out with my dog I never listen to music or scroll through my mobile. Instead, I drink in my surroundings, taking note of where I am and I close my eyes. What can I hear that would place me in my scene? What is unique to it? What can I use in my stories? These are the things the reader needs to hear.

Today, my son and I went to the park with his recording equipment to record the sounds that accompany ‘The Sister’. Although I believe I am mostly mindful, mostly attentive, I was stunned by the multitude of sounds I could pick out when I stood still and really allowed myself to listen.

Layers of noise, all demanding attention from a chainsaw to bird song, kids playing, dogs barking, to the more subtle sounds, the wind against a leaf, the snapping of a twig under footfall in the distance. We’ve had a fabulous afternoon recording and have returned home with a memory card full of noises and I’ve a head full of inspiration.

If you’re writing a story, take a minute to read it back. What sounds would you use if you could? Are you doing enough to set the scene? A reader who feels is a reader who will keep on turning the pagers.

Here’s the sounds we’ve inserted into The Sister: –

Stepping out of my car with heartbreak-heavy legs (car engine, car slowing, stopping, engine cut, car door slam), I zip my jacket (pulling on & zipping a coat) and pull on leather gloves (the stretch of leather gloves being pulled on) before (walking on a hard surface) hefting my spade and bag from the boot (unloading something heavy. A chink of metal): it is time. (footsteps on gravel) My wellingtons slip-slide (footsteps through mud) across the squelching mud to the gap in the hedge. It’s been there for as long as I can remember. I shiver as I enter the forest; it’s darker than I’d thought and I take deep breaths (breathing) of the pine-scented air to steady myself. I fight the urge to go home and come back in the morning, remind myself why I’m here and drive myself forwards. (Walking. Leaves. Snapping twigs).

My smartphone lights the way as I look out for rabbit holes I might fall down. I take giant steps (larger strides) over fallen limbs of trees I’d once have hurdled. At twenty-five I’m not too old to run, but my load is cumbersome; besides, I’m in no rush to get there, I was never supposed to do this alone.

I stop and rest the spade handle against my hip (spade sticking in the ground), splay my fingers and shake out my pins and needles. There’s a rustling in the bushes (leaves rustling) and I have a sense of being watched. My heart stutters (gasp) as two rabbits dart out, (louder rustling) bounding away when they see my light. ‘I’m OK,’ (voice) I reassure myself, but my voice seems loud and echoey, reminding me how alone I am.

My rucksack feels tight across my shoulders and I readjust the straps (the sound of straps sliding) before marching on (more purposeful steps), snapping twigs underfoot (twigs). I’m beginning to think I’ve taken the wrong fork when I reach the clearing with the lightning-struck tree (stop footsteps. Breathing). I wasn’t sure it would still be here, but as I look around it seems nothing has changed – but of course, everything has. Memories of the last time I was here hit me so hard I feel winded. I sink to the ground. (Clothes crinkling as sitting. Dislodging leaves). The dampness of the leaves and earth seep through my trousers, as the past seeps through to my present.

What REALLY happens at an author Christmas party… #HQmasParty

Authors are often solitary creatures, introverted. Much of our days spent alone with only a laptop (and in my case a cat) for company.

B A Paris & Louise Jensen

Every so often there’s a chance to get out, a literary festival, a bookish event, a party. Today, was my publisher’s author Christmas bash and it felt odd to be discarding my pyjamas in favour of real, actual, normal clothes (if you can call tinsel, Rudolph earrings and a present fascinator normal clothes.)

Darren O’Sullivan

Alice Feeney, Louise Jensen

An author party isn’t just an excuse for drinking (okay it is a bit). It’s a chance to catch up with old friends and make some new. To connect. To realise that however alone we can sometimes feel, we all have the same fears, not matter what stage of writing we are at; that we’ll run out of ideas; that our current book won’t be as well received as out last. We all have the same love/hate relationship with our current WIP.

Louise Mangos & Roz Watkins

After a civilised start to the evening, with a gorgeous meal in the London Bridge Hotel, we headed over to the News Building, which houses Harper Collins. On the 17th floor we were met by caterers with glasses of prosecco and canapés and gazing out across the stunning river views I felt a million miles from home.

Lisa Hall, Louise Jensen, Darren O’Sullivan

The writing community is super supportive and one I’m very grateful to be part of. Tomorrow even though I’ll be back in my editing cave, back in my pyjamas, I’ll know I’m not alone.

Louise Jensen & Darren O’Sullivan

Vicky Newham & B A Paris

Louise Jensen & Roz Watkins

Darren O’Sullivan, Lisa Hall, Louise Jensen, Alice Feeney, Mel McGrath, Louise Mangos

Phaedra Patrick & Lisa Hall

B A Paris, Phaedra Patrick, Louise Jensen, Diane Jeffrey, Sally Gardner

How many authors can you fit in a lift..?

Giveaway! Signed copies of The Date!

**GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED**

CONGRATULATIONS TO THE WINNERS (PICKED BY MY SON) OF RACHEL GILBERT FOR THE WORST DATE AND SUE BARTON FOR THE BEST

Firstly, a huge thank you for all the support for my latest psychological thriller centered around Face Blindness, The Date. Since its summer release I’m thrilled that it very quickly sold in excess of 100,000 copies, was nominated for The Guardian’s ‘Not the Booker Prize’ and to now learn that it is in the top 10 biggest selling books on Apple’s iBook store this year is phenomenal, particularly since it wasn’t released until halfway through the year.

The mass market paperback doesn’t hit the shops until next Spring, but as it’s Christmas I thought I’d give away a couple of signed and dedicated copies, along with postcards and bookmarks. If you already have the ebook or have listened to the audiobook, this could make a perfect gift for a friend.

To enter please comment below with either your best or worst date. Competition will run until Tuesday 11th.

Good luck!

Louise X

Here’s the blurb: –

One night can change everything.

‘I know it as soon as I wake up and open my eyes… Something is wrong.’

Her Saturday night started normally. Recently separated from her husband, Ali has been persuaded by her friends to go on a date with a new man. She is ready, she is nervous, she is excited. She is about to take a step into her new future. By Sunday morning, Ali’s life is unrecognisable. She wakes, and she knows that something is wrong. She is home, she is alone, she is hurt and she has no memory of what happened to her.

Worse still, when she looks in the mirror, Ali doesn’t recognise the face staring back at her

You can also find The Date on your local Amazon here.

The Journey #FlashFiction

Photo prompt – Dawn Miller

Him

‘I need to find out who I am,’ she can’t meet my eye.

I want to tell her I know who she is; the love of my life. I want to tell her I’ve spent weeks organising a flash mob to dance her perfect proposal, but I don’t. I watch her leave.

I have my dignity, even if I don’t have her.

Her

I tell him I’m leaving and my heart actually breaks. But he’s been avoiding me. My friends have seen him out with a bunch of girls. I walk away.

I have my dignity, even if I don’t have him.

‘The Journey’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge prompted by the fabulous Rochelle. Do read the other entries and/or post your own story.