A new challenge for 2019 is for Wordsmiths of Melton members to write a 500 word FLASH FICTION story to a set theme. These works will be presented for critique by forwarding an email to the facilitator by 5.00 pm on the Sunday prior to Flash Fiction day.
Those offering critique are reminded to review our guidelines and the rules below before offering your critique.
Those offering critique are reminded to review our guidelines and the rules below before offering your critique.
Please find below the details for our first theme day to be held on the 13th of March.
Writing genre: ROMANCE
For Authors:
* Writers will have one month to consider and write the piece.
* Stories are limited to a maximum of 500 words.
* Normal writing scenarios apply i.e. Beginning, Middle, Satisfactory end.
* Do not use parts, or characters, from stories you are writing or have previously written.
* Submissions should be polished. The best you can do. Competition ready, not first drafts.
* Finished pieces should be sent to the facilitator via e-mail by the Sunday before the nominated Theme Day for distribution.
For Those Submitting their Critique:
* Once received, please critique and review each piece in line with our critiquing guidelines.
* A Verbal critique will be presented to all attendees on Theme Day for respectful discussion with each author.
* Printed marked up copies of the critique will be presented to the author of the piece.
Critiquing hints:
* Condense your critique.
* Ignore spelling, grammatical and layout errors.
* Comment only on readability, plot and setting.
* Are the characters believable?
* Does it show not tell?
* Does it make sense?
Writing Exercise 23-08-2017
Julee Stillman
Published Wordsmiths of Melton website, Members Stories 26-08-2017
Mary
rushed through the doors of the department store, late again. It hadn’t been
necessary to call in on her boyfriend, yet she did. A waste of time, he forgot
to buy the acne cream. She ran a finger over a blossoming lump on her chin. Mr Jones
wouldn’t be happy. He expected her to look flawless. That’s why she rose early
each morning, allowing more time than necessary, to ensure her makeup and hair
met with his approval. He told her, if she managed to keep herself well-groomed
and spoke to the customers politely, a promotion might come her way. To hold
the position of head of the perfume department met all Mary’s dreams. Perfume,
perfume, and more perfume to play with each day. Did she dare to dream?
Les Stillman
Published Wordsmiths of Melton website, Members Stories 26-08-2017
Mary
arrived late for work again. Why? Because she’d needed to see her boyfriend,
hoping he’d bought the creams she wanted from the chemist. The creams and
lotions she applied daily helped to keep up appearances and were indispensable
in helping her to advance at work. Her boss, Mr Jones, said she must look her
best always and not to come to work if she didn’t. She rose early every
morning, allowing more time than necessary, making sure her makeup and hair
looked immaculate. In the end, it would be worth it because Mr Jones said if
everything kept going along as well as they were she’d be in line for a
promotion. Just think, head girl in the perfume department. All that fancy
smelling scent to play with all day. It hardly seemed possible.
Terry L Probert
·
Published
Wordsmiths of Melton website, Members Stories 24-08-2017
Mary found herself late for work again. Why?
Because before she jumped into the shower, she had asked her boyfriend Rob, to
rush out and have her prescription filled at the pharmacy. As he picked up his
car keys Mary thrust a list of makeup items she needed into his hand. Out of
the shower and her hair straightened, Mary wondered where Jeff could be. You
could walk to the chemist from their flat. The new eye liner she wanted, had a
brush for applying wings that would give her the finishing touches she wanted
for her face. Moments later, he burst through the front door full of apology,
but Mary had no time for that.
Mr Jones her boss, impressed on Mary
that as Manager of First Impressions, (which everyone knew to be the glorified
title for whoever sat at the reception desk) she needed to look her best. He
had dropped a couple of copies of Vogue and pointed to the cover as an example
of the look he wanted. The girls she shared the desk with and most of the women
in the department considered him a tosser. However, Mary had a plan.
Jones had let slip he would soon be
advertising a role for someone to lead the Perfumery Department and with the
attention she gave to her appearance, she could be sure of his support when
considering the applicants.
While her colleagues walked to the mall
for lunch, Mary typed her application, folded it into an envelope and set it
aside. For a finishing touch, she reached into her handbag and plucked out the
package Rob had bought this morning. It made her smile, this lipstick shade,
‘Sudden Death’ should do the trick. Holding her compact making sure of a
liberal application to her lips, Mary blotted them with a tissue and checked
her look. Sure that the job was in the bag, she pressed a kiss onto the back of
the envelope to seal it. She held the envelope to the light and inspected it
again, a blood red smile crossed her lips, how could that stuffy old boardroom
resist?
All afternoon Mary dreamed of making the
department hers. Having all of the samples and beauticians at her call would
make her dream of a modelling career and Vogue cover that much closer. However,
before that happened, Rob and Mr Jones would have to go.
---O---
Set as part of a writing exercise set by Matthew Naqvi for this week's challenge, he asked us to take ten minutes to write something themed, My Happy Piece. It was quite a challenge and below is one of those efforts.
Happy
Les Stillman
I have
writer's block. Well, I think I have. Mathew asked us to write about some happy
time and I can’t think of one – is that writers block?
Happy? Okay,
I guess I’m happy when I wake up each morning, take a breath and realise I’m
still alive. Although sometimes I think – bugger, I’m still alive.
Hmmm. Happy.
I suppose I’m happy when a favourite show comes back on the television, but I
don’t think that’s what Mathew wants.
I’m holding
my chin and pursing my lips, trying to think. Happy? What the hell is happy.
Sometimes,
when the sun is shining and the air smells sweat and fresh, I take a deep
breath and feel happy. Or it that a feeling of contentment?
Perhaps my
life is so full of joy that I can’t distinguish one happy moment from all the
happy moments. Yes, I think that’s it – My life is happy.
Boxes of Memories
 |
| Lionel Probert Orroroo 1948 |
Albums of photos from when they were poor
I pry loose the string that hold them in place
And blow away dust from a black and white face
The face of a man I’ve known for most of my life
Astride a three-fifty Beezer smiling, and looking up at his
wife
This, the last day of owning his very own wheels
And still, the look on his face some sadness reveals
But as her hand on the swell in her figure will tell
In just a few months I’ll be around to give them both Hell
First story for this year comes from Kevin Drum.
Set as a writing challenge last Wednesday, all members were set a task of writing a 250 word short story on the theme: Guilty as Sin. This is Kevin's effort.
Guilty As Sin
‘Hell it’s hot in here,’ Mario complained, admiring the latest addition to his arm-sleeve tattoo.
Stretching and straightening up,
stylus in hand, with a wry grin Leo responded. ‘Not half as hot as its going to
be for you tomorrow old son when you front the beak.’
‘What d’ya mean?’ shot back Mario. ’You
know it’s a put-up job by the coppers as payback for me back-handing that
smart-arse sergeant from the drug squad.’
Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at
the ceiling. ’When will you ever learn, dumbo? The more you retaliate, the
harder life will get.’
Always seeing only one point of
view—his, Mario spluttered. ’You’d think that bloody servo owner wouldn’t miss
one lousy packet or two of cigarettes...’
‘One packet Mario, one bloody
packet or two. How about a boot full? You didn’t do yourself any favours either
waving around that replica Glock 37 pistol.’
‘Okay, okay, don’t rub it in I’ve
made a few mistakes…’
‘A few, how many times have you
been in the can in the past ten years—at least five at my last count. Face up
to it, you’re a loser, now give me my hundred bucks and get out of here.’
Head down Mario mumbled,’ I’ve been
meaning to tell you, I’m broke.’
Leo exploded—‘you not only steal
from innocent people but now me. The beak may not give you what you deserve tomorrow,
but for mine—stealing from your mates—you’re guilty as sin.
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