Image courtesy of Sandra Crook
‘Writing’s a dead end job.’ The careers advisor had said. Even now, I remember the heavy feeling in my stomach as my hopes sank.
I straighten the stack of paperbacks on the table. Check there’s a spare pen.
‘There’s no money in books.’ She had said and I wish she could see me now, sitting under the ‘Bestsellers’ sign.
Outside, the queue snakes around the corner. It’s nearly time.
‘Lisa, have you finished?’ My manager snaps. ‘The author will be here in a minute.’
I scuttle back to my place behind the till, wishing again I hadn’t given up so easily.
My careers advisor told me writing wasn’t a viable career and sadly I listened to her and for 25 years I pushed my dreams to one side. Thankfully, in my 40’s I decided to try and write a novel and am still stunned that my first two books, The Sister and The Gift, have both been International No.1 Bestsellers, selling over 750,000 copies. It’s never too late!
‘One Day’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge, inspired by a photo prompt. You can join in over at Rochelle’s blog, here.
Image courtesy of Shaktiki Sharma
‘Dan said ‘I’m going to give Stella the sack.’ Hilda relayed.
Stella’s throat burned hot. How could he? Today? It’s 30 years since she started here. Not that anyone remembered. She’d helped his wife arrange a birthday party for him too.
Stella fired off an email telling her boss everyone called him fish breath behind his back. She pressed send and gathered her belongings and her dignity, and stood.
‘Not going anywhere, Stella?’ Dan carried in a cake. Thirty candles flickering. ‘I said this morning I’m going to get you back for the party and surprise you!’
‘Sorry,’ mouthed Hilda. ‘Misheard.’
This week my sister asked for a more lighthearted story and as it’s International Women’s Day and she’s the strongest woman I know I had to step outside my comfort zone and give it a go.
Big thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and recommended The Sister. Yesterday my publisher rang to congratulate me on half a million sales. You can read the first thought that popped into my head here. World Book Day was another step outside my comfort zone. An introverted writer giving a talk to 250 kids. What could possibly go wrong? I blogged about that here.
‘Act in haste’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge inspired by a photo prompt and organised by Rochelle.
Image © Rochelle Wisoff-Field
Elsa dabbed the cotton wool against Edward’s leg. It came away crimson.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘It doesn’t look good.’ She reached into her case and pulled out a bandage.
‘Elsa! Why aren’t you eating your chips and why has Teddy got ketchup over his leg?’ Elsa’s mum swiped the bear and began to sponge his fur.
‘He ranned out in front of a car, Mummy, just like me.’
‘Let’s get you both cleaned up.’ Elsa’s mum’s knuckles bleached white as she gripped the handles of Elsa’s wheelchair and pushed her out of the kitchen.
She wouldn’t cry again. She’d run out of tears.
Yesterday I wrote a post on the 15 stages we go through when writing a first draft – no wonder writers are often exhausted! You can read the post here.
‘Can’t you kiss it better?’ Was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge inspired by a photo prompt. Hop over to Rochelle’s blog for instructions on how to join in.
Image courtesy of Liz Young
I paint on the smile that won’t reach my eyes and smooth my dress as though that will suddenly make me lose 10lbs. Today I want to be sparkling. Beautiful. Brilliant.
The church is full. The bride is young, thin, radiant. As full of hope as I once was. I bite back tears. I won’t cry. I won’t.
You’re so handsome as you walk down the aisle. I try to catch your eye but I’m invisible to you now. But I’m still your mum and I cling to that thought as tightly as you once clung to my hand.
Be happy, my love.
‘Letting Go’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge, inspired by a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting – you can check out the other entries, or join in, here.
Image courtesy of Ted Strutz
‘What am I supposed to do with loaves and fishes?’ I swallow the hot lump that rises in my throat. Soon the kids will be home, hungry, not that this is a home, with the endless smell of mildew. The wallpaper blackening and curling.
‘I suppose you can’t turn water into wine either?’ Rob trails kisses along my collarbone.
‘You’re always hoping for a miracle.’ I push him hard. ‘Get a real job.’
‘I’ll get a book deal.’
Rob tears open the post. As he reads a smile stretches across his face. ‘You know that miracle you were hoping for?’
Yesterday I wrote a blog post about Friday Fictioneers which you can read here.
A writer’s life is not an easy one! Loaves & Fishes was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word flash fiction challenge inspired by a photo prompt. You can read the other entries over a host Rochelle’s blog here.
Image courtesy Roger Bultot
‘They were such a lovely couple, I can’t quite believe it’s happened’ says the woman wrapping her arms around herself as if she is cold, although this is the warmest March on record for years. At the side of the kerb, as close as the emergency services will allow, friends and neighbours huddle together. The sight of their shocked faces, tissues dabbing at tears, is such a contrast to the neat borders bursting with snowdrops and the reporter thinks they would make a great shot. The joy of Spring tempered by tragedy. New life highlighting the rawness of loss.
Apologies – I admit I’ve cheated a little this week as I’ve today written the above for my WIP but when I checked out the prompt it fitted perfectly. Friday Fictioneers is a weekly 100 word photo challenge inspired by a photo prompt. Hop over to host Rochelle’s blog to read the other entries or join in yourself.
Image courtesy of Al Forbes
‘We’ll be best friends forever won’t we?’ She asks, piercing the daisy stem with her thumbnail and threading another flower through. ‘Finished.’ She loops the chain around my neck and as she draws back and studies me, the scent of her lemon shampoo lingers. ‘You look beautiful,’ she says.
She races across the field, honey-hair shimmering in the sun, tanned arms pumping by her sides. My January-pale stumpy legs struggle to keep up.
I want to tell her she’s the one that’s beautiful but I’m just her best friend, and my heart aches as I know that’s all I’ll ever be.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story challenge inspired by a photo prompt (my story this week inspired by the BF on the numberplate).
To read the other entries hop over to host Rochelle’s blog here.