A whole string of prizes to announce including three first prizes
Britbird gets $400 for her first at The Lancet (is this a joint first?)
TomC wins $200 first in Pier Pressure's Short-Story Competition
RVJones wins $200 first in Pier Pressure's Poetry Competition
TomC, Debbie, and Michael J Hulme made up 3 of the 5 shortlisted stories in Pier Pressure
also Debbie announces she has made the Momaya Anthology
SEVEN Prizes/Places!!
Tuesday, 31 July 2007
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Prompts 07:00 Wednesday
The telephone rang
Beauty of the body
Not Welsh enough, too rich
Mary had a little car, it caused her jubilation
Your own FOLBOT wherevere you go!
Sturdy. No maintenance costs. Easily transported
Rallie Health belt Tones ASbdominal Muscles
She read Nurse Drew's little book and is now "happily married" in the true sense.
Are your teeth worth threepence each?
The onion is a friendly plant.
For sheer dependability give me "Craven A"
Made specially to prevent sore throats.
As used by Donald Budge, World Champion
Do you know that chocolate grows on trees?
Has explored Amazon in search of Col. Fawcett
One of England's hardest-working women.
An aunt of mine, now, alas, dead.
A mexican Life, One Pound, ten shillings.
My dear, he thinks life is just one lark after another.
Talking to Heinz
I have nothing in my pocket
Ploughman's Breakfast
My dear, I bought the most marvellous hat
But she used to worry sheep
Beauty of the body
Not Welsh enough, too rich
Mary had a little car, it caused her jubilation
Your own FOLBOT wherevere you go!
Sturdy. No maintenance costs. Easily transported
Rallie Health belt Tones ASbdominal Muscles
She read Nurse Drew's little book and is now "happily married" in the true sense.
Are your teeth worth threepence each?
The onion is a friendly plant.
For sheer dependability give me "Craven A"
Made specially to prevent sore throats.
As used by Donald Budge, World Champion
Do you know that chocolate grows on trees?
Has explored Amazon in search of Col. Fawcett
One of England's hardest-working women.
An aunt of mine, now, alas, dead.
A mexican Life, One Pound, ten shillings.
My dear, he thinks life is just one lark after another.
Talking to Heinz
I have nothing in my pocket
Ploughman's Breakfast
My dear, I bought the most marvellous hat
But she used to worry sheep
Tuesday, 24 July 2007
Prompts 11:27 24-07
A high fever and hot blood
About mountains it is useless to argue
And began pacing back and forth in its cage
Clear, pretty sure they're green
Half-closed to focus better on the drawing
He heard that there were other places
He is alone. It is Christmas
I am a man now
If you had made it smaller
Mummy and Daddy, in various disguises
Quiet at first, stretched out in its cage
Remember the dark wood
She looks at her subject
She was having trouble with the shading in her drawing
The black panther at the zoo
The curtains have been drawn
The girl made a noise with her easel and her chair
The machines are laughing
The panther spotted her
The view from half-way is nobody's view
There is no time here
About mountains it is useless to argue
And began pacing back and forth in its cage
Clear, pretty sure they're green
Half-closed to focus better on the drawing
He heard that there were other places
He is alone. It is Christmas
I am a man now
If you had made it smaller
Mummy and Daddy, in various disguises
Quiet at first, stretched out in its cage
Remember the dark wood
She looks at her subject
She was having trouble with the shading in her drawing
The black panther at the zoo
The curtains have been drawn
The girl made a noise with her easel and her chair
The machines are laughing
The panther spotted her
The view from half-way is nobody's view
There is no time here
Monday, 23 July 2007
Monday 23rd prompts
Tabard
rising waters, rising tempers
I'm at the art gallery
I've got a peanut in my pocket
you need to cry
she saw Adam bathed in light
basking in misery
sharking for beginners
babies for sale
helluva fuss over such littleness
much sadness
Mitch Midgely's last walk
another siren, another calamity
makes you bend your back
spinal column
newsprint on your arse
the last of the mohinders
rising waters, rising tempers
I'm at the art gallery
I've got a peanut in my pocket
you need to cry
she saw Adam bathed in light
basking in misery
sharking for beginners
babies for sale
helluva fuss over such littleness
much sadness
Mitch Midgely's last walk
another siren, another calamity
makes you bend your back
spinal column
newsprint on your arse
the last of the mohinders
Thursday, 19 July 2007
Thursday 19th Prompts at 20:30
Listless Rug Syndrome
Is there anybody there? said the traveller
An explosive situation
Playing the Bedtime blues
The Actuary's Alphabet
Eight girls in a Hummer limousine
Filigree
Toothbrush Number Three
The marks that blu-tack leaves behind
Walls have ears
Peeping Tom meets Tiny Tim
Roses were red, once upon a time
Is there anybody there? said the traveller
An explosive situation
Playing the Bedtime blues
The Actuary's Alphabet
Eight girls in a Hummer limousine
Filigree
Toothbrush Number Three
The marks that blu-tack leaves behind
Walls have ears
Peeping Tom meets Tiny Tim
Roses were red, once upon a time
Thursday 19th Prompts at 09:50
When the party's over
Restless leg syndrome
Passport to another world
In the red
A Fish called Freddie
Out, then in again
I heard you calling in the night
Why so untouchable?
A night with tigers
Circus tricks
Restless leg syndrome
Passport to another world
In the red
A Fish called Freddie
Out, then in again
I heard you calling in the night
Why so untouchable?
A night with tigers
Circus tricks
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
Wednesday 18th Prompts at 19:00
Families, and How to Survive Them
How Long is a Five-Inch Piece of String?
Aspects of My Novel
The Terrorist's Supermarket
Picnic in Basrah
Third, but by THAT Much
The Difference Between a Burning Bush and a Shrub on Fire
Finally Leaving
My bed is a bed of nails, and I lie bleeding
From the River, to the Sea
Not Our Fault
Nine Green Bottles
If You had one crate for your life, what would you pack?
Marshallows, Nuts, Raisins, but Clean Out of Wine
LOOK OUT, Lookout!
How Long is a Five-Inch Piece of String?
Aspects of My Novel
The Terrorist's Supermarket
Picnic in Basrah
Third, but by THAT Much
The Difference Between a Burning Bush and a Shrub on Fire
Finally Leaving
My bed is a bed of nails, and I lie bleeding
From the River, to the Sea
Not Our Fault
Nine Green Bottles
If You had one crate for your life, what would you pack?
Marshallows, Nuts, Raisins, but Clean Out of Wine
LOOK OUT, Lookout!
Wednesday 18th Prompts at 09:15
In One Ear, Out the Other
Questionnaire
Boys' Toys
Love Hurts
Eric's Primal Scream
That Aching Space Where Something Used to Be
Lemmings
Pistachio Nightmares
The Mystery of the Aubergine Bathtub
Things Children Don't Say
Seeing the World through Green Goggles
From Rutland, With Love
Questionnaire
Boys' Toys
Love Hurts
Eric's Primal Scream
That Aching Space Where Something Used to Be
Lemmings
Pistachio Nightmares
The Mystery of the Aubergine Bathtub
Things Children Don't Say
Seeing the World through Green Goggles
From Rutland, With Love
Tuesday, 17 July 2007
Tuesday 17th Prompts at 23:00
They're Coming to Get You!
Metamorphoses
Why VAT Returns Are Green
Jackie Brown's Schooldays
The Best Things in Life Are Three
Listening to John & Paul
Cheese, Chicken, No Difference
Damascus, Hardly
Laurel & the Other One, One of them is Fat
The Secret Laptop
A Dozen Pencils, Eleven Erasers
While Julie Swims
How To Be Truly Bad
Blenkinsop's Boil
Metamorphoses
Why VAT Returns Are Green
Jackie Brown's Schooldays
The Best Things in Life Are Three
Listening to John & Paul
Cheese, Chicken, No Difference
Damascus, Hardly
Laurel & the Other One, One of them is Fat
The Secret Laptop
A Dozen Pencils, Eleven Erasers
While Julie Swims
How To Be Truly Bad
Blenkinsop's Boil
Tuesday 17th Prompts at 21:00
Smokers outside the hospital
An end has to start
Editors
Pimp My Snack
Skinny Dipping for Fatties
In the Eight Miles Since He Left Me
Judge Me Not Too Harshly
A Most Expensive Mistake
Green Green Green with just a hint of Peachy Softness
You Can't Buy it on eBay
Lincoln Logs and an Erector Set
The Care Bares
Joop, the World's Oldest Orangutan
A story beginning, "I didn't think you'd mind ..."
An end has to start
Editors
Pimp My Snack
Skinny Dipping for Fatties
In the Eight Miles Since He Left Me
Judge Me Not Too Harshly
A Most Expensive Mistake
Green Green Green with just a hint of Peachy Softness
You Can't Buy it on eBay
Lincoln Logs and an Erector Set
The Care Bares
Joop, the World's Oldest Orangutan
A story beginning, "I didn't think you'd mind ..."
Tuesday 17th Prompts at 19:00
Today, I'm Yours
Blessings
Saturday Morning Television
The Eleventh Commandment
Adventures of a Dyslexic Sign Writer
Her Master's Voice
Green Thoughts in a Green Shade
Sleep, My Darling, Sleep
The Pity of it All
Confessions of a Game Show Host
Sidekick in the Sidecar
The Endless Steps
Blessings
Saturday Morning Television
The Eleventh Commandment
Adventures of a Dyslexic Sign Writer
Her Master's Voice
Green Thoughts in a Green Shade
Sleep, My Darling, Sleep
The Pity of it All
Confessions of a Game Show Host
Sidekick in the Sidecar
The Endless Steps
Tuesday 17th Prompts at 9.30
High apple pie in the sky hopes
Shaw Jumping
66 not 70 mm
Would You Hit a Man Wearing Glasses?
Deflation
How Green Was My Underwear
NASA Shuttle Diplomacy
Returning to Report My Death
Tack, Tacks, Tax
Underneath the Carpet Lies
Black Booty
Bank Holiday Special
Pint of Semi-Skimmed and Two Eggs
Shaw Jumping
66 not 70 mm
Would You Hit a Man Wearing Glasses?
Deflation
How Green Was My Underwear
NASA Shuttle Diplomacy
Returning to Report My Death
Tack, Tacks, Tax
Underneath the Carpet Lies
Black Booty
Bank Holiday Special
Pint of Semi-Skimmed and Two Eggs
Monday, 16 July 2007
Monday 16th Prompts 07:57
Who put that crease in your soul?
In your small garden
An old man, by a dim light
John One takes his place at the table
Hers is the clean apron
The price of a goose egg
Watching James Bond
It's better by car, so walk
John Davies, eighty-five cold winters
The view from half-way is nobody's view
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the rain
Someone put a grenade in the fruit bowl
I walked him home through the suburban cool
The French Exchange
It must have been too cold for him, his heart gave way
Upon the burning of our house
The sea is calm tonight
He disappeared in the dead of winter
He worked hard, made a good sound
The days dawns stinking of flowers and rain
In your small garden
An old man, by a dim light
John One takes his place at the table
Hers is the clean apron
The price of a goose egg
Watching James Bond
It's better by car, so walk
John Davies, eighty-five cold winters
The view from half-way is nobody's view
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the rain
Someone put a grenade in the fruit bowl
I walked him home through the suburban cool
The French Exchange
It must have been too cold for him, his heart gave way
Upon the burning of our house
The sea is calm tonight
He disappeared in the dead of winter
He worked hard, made a good sound
The days dawns stinking of flowers and rain
Saturday, 14 July 2007
08:35 Saturday PROMPTS
Ambling with his cattle from the starved pastures
And learn, too late
Bonfire
Dawn rolls up what the night unwound
Fluster of lost door keys
How to catch a javelin
Here is Peter. Here is Jane. They like fun.
I have lived in important places, times
Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills
Light the blue touch-paper and retire
Most near, most dear, most loved, most far
No one will help. Let's kiss and part.
Skin like marzipan
The art of losing isn't hard to master
The father tip-toes out, backwards
The house is shut and still
Olympic Abuse
The tunnel that contains the dawn of all his fears
The waste remains, the waste remains, and kills
The weight of the sky
The winds have stretched so tight the skin on bare racks of bone
True North, West Lies
Walk, down the fern trail. It doesn't matter where.
We managed. No need for the heroic.
Father and Son
What does it matter, where or how we die?
When you're away I sleep a lot. Pee more often
Baked beans, strychnine
Where did those enormous children come from?
Why does a dog hate so?
And learn, too late
Bonfire
Dawn rolls up what the night unwound
Fluster of lost door keys
How to catch a javelin
Here is Peter. Here is Jane. They like fun.
I have lived in important places, times
Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills
Light the blue touch-paper and retire
Most near, most dear, most loved, most far
No one will help. Let's kiss and part.
Skin like marzipan
The art of losing isn't hard to master
The father tip-toes out, backwards
The house is shut and still
Olympic Abuse
The tunnel that contains the dawn of all his fears
The waste remains, the waste remains, and kills
The weight of the sky
The winds have stretched so tight the skin on bare racks of bone
True North, West Lies
Walk, down the fern trail. It doesn't matter where.
We managed. No need for the heroic.
Father and Son
What does it matter, where or how we die?
When you're away I sleep a lot. Pee more often
Baked beans, strychnine
Where did those enormous children come from?
Why does a dog hate so?
Friday, 13 July 2007
07:08 Friday PROMPTS
Black Will have black
On nights when the cool air slips in
The colour of bad luck
Inside a chicken is another chicken
She was sixteen, he was twenty
A daydream of horses
Suspended, cantilevered, arched
They would come through the long light
She wanders round their room
City streets awash with noise
I have seen, in neglected corners
My daughter sleeps with a giraffe
The evryday sink, the clutter of dishes
See Son Ticket
I am thinking of marrying the girl from the castle
I dreamt I had buried you
Below, on the pond, the wind shivers
His lamp no longer glows
An eye that doesn't quite look straight
My mother has been travelling it seems
I hate this furniture almost as much as it hates me
I run towards my death, with luck we will miss each other
A teacher stands at a blackboard, seething
I am the car-crash of car-crash TV
The villagers never like you
A bowl of rotten fruit, children
Magisterial
I was ten when they buried you, eleven years too late
Fifty-two dead nurses
Once I saw a man climb a palm tree backwards
I'm waiting for Jerry Anderson by the old wicker gate
Eating peanut paste and onions
The reverse-shredder
Tanned blonde, green dress, hot, hot, night
Why she hates the Japanese
On nights when the cool air slips in
The colour of bad luck
Inside a chicken is another chicken
She was sixteen, he was twenty
A daydream of horses
Suspended, cantilevered, arched
They would come through the long light
She wanders round their room
City streets awash with noise
I have seen, in neglected corners
My daughter sleeps with a giraffe
The evryday sink, the clutter of dishes
See Son Ticket
I am thinking of marrying the girl from the castle
I dreamt I had buried you
Below, on the pond, the wind shivers
His lamp no longer glows
An eye that doesn't quite look straight
My mother has been travelling it seems
I hate this furniture almost as much as it hates me
I run towards my death, with luck we will miss each other
A teacher stands at a blackboard, seething
I am the car-crash of car-crash TV
The villagers never like you
A bowl of rotten fruit, children
Magisterial
I was ten when they buried you, eleven years too late
Fifty-two dead nurses
Once I saw a man climb a palm tree backwards
I'm waiting for Jerry Anderson by the old wicker gate
Eating peanut paste and onions
The reverse-shredder
Tanned blonde, green dress, hot, hot, night
Why she hates the Japanese
Thursday, 12 July 2007
Thursday Prompts at 20:15
All my in-laws are outlaws
Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!
Safeway the Hard Way
The Revolution Will Be Televised
What's blue and sits in the corner?
Five Gold Rings
Run, Paint, Run
The Host The Ghost The Most Holy-O
Walking the Cow
Standing In A Trash Can, Thinking About You
Putting the Bad Wine back in the Bottle
Talking to Convent School Girls
Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!
Safeway the Hard Way
The Revolution Will Be Televised
What's blue and sits in the corner?
Five Gold Rings
Run, Paint, Run
The Host The Ghost The Most Holy-O
Walking the Cow
Standing In A Trash Can, Thinking About You
Putting the Bad Wine back in the Bottle
Talking to Convent School Girls
Thursday 9 am prompts
the congregation of the girls
procurement blues
yesterday, with cows in the field
a cupful of tar
show
Carmelite chocolate
busy with tasks which don’t need doing
a banana
driving thirty years ago, when the roads were quiet and the cars were noisy
it shouldn’t have happened
three years ago last Friday morning, or maybe four years, I’m not sure
Wally may call, but Pete will meet you in person
oh shite
oh Susannah
a banjo in my throat
hello my sweet
grimacing death
I don’t want it to be this way
procurement blues
yesterday, with cows in the field
a cupful of tar
show
Carmelite chocolate
busy with tasks which don’t need doing
a banana
driving thirty years ago, when the roads were quiet and the cars were noisy
it shouldn’t have happened
three years ago last Friday morning, or maybe four years, I’m not sure
Wally may call, but Pete will meet you in person
oh shite
oh Susannah
a banjo in my throat
hello my sweet
grimacing death
I don’t want it to be this way
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
And Cally is a Joint-Winner
Forget to mention:
Cally gets a joint first at BBC-Sedburgh Prize
That's 12 prizes/places reported this week!
Cally gets a joint first at BBC-Sedburgh Prize
That's 12 prizes/places reported this week!
Rush of Final Placings in Comps
Boot Campers had FIVE shortlistings at Kings Lynn (WD Lexie, Tom, MJ)
plus a commended in Leaf (MJ)
Plus a HR in Frome for JJ
I also see Fleur's 3rd at Charnwood Arts is up but I think we already recorded that.
Hits for the year now total 116 ($3,573)
2007 Prizes/Places are now:
05 First Places (one joint)
03 Runner-Up
03 Third Place
26 Named Finalists, HR or Commended
37 Total
plus a commended in Leaf (MJ)
Plus a HR in Frome for JJ
I also see Fleur's 3rd at Charnwood Arts is up but I think we already recorded that.
Hits for the year now total 116 ($3,573)
2007 Prizes/Places are now:
05 First Places (one joint)
03 Runner-Up
03 Third Place
26 Named Finalists, HR or Commended
37 Total
Wednesday Prompts at 7 p.m.
Walking in Sand
The Difference Between Porridge and Gruel
Sunbathing in Iraq
Having a Baby?
Middle Mind, Muddling
Howling at the Moon, But Quietly
A Story beginning, "It doesn't follow that pain is bad ..."
PINK
A letter in the form of a complaint or a complaint in the form of a letter
Tread softly
Cutting the cloth of heaven
The Difference Between Porridge and Gruel
Sunbathing in Iraq
Having a Baby?
Middle Mind, Muddling
Howling at the Moon, But Quietly
A Story beginning, "It doesn't follow that pain is bad ..."
PINK
A letter in the form of a complaint or a complaint in the form of a letter
Tread softly
Cutting the cloth of heaven
Tuesday, 10 July 2007
Kieran Downes
I had some shock news today.
Kieran Downes, I met on a cruise-ship 7-8 years ago and we became mates, played some bridge together. He stopped with us in Newbury with his wife and two great kids.
A few years back his marriage failed and he went to live in London but we met a few times and my family stayed with him for a weekend.
Not sure why, but today I googled his name and discovered he had been murdered in late 2004 in Kiev, Ukraine.
Obviously now I'm trying to find out what I can. I post this here as there is always a possibility that a friend of Kieran's might stumble on this entry and can then contact me.
alex.keegan(at)btinternet.com
Kieran Downes, I met on a cruise-ship 7-8 years ago and we became mates, played some bridge together. He stopped with us in Newbury with his wife and two great kids.
A few years back his marriage failed and he went to live in London but we met a few times and my family stayed with him for a weekend.
Not sure why, but today I googled his name and discovered he had been murdered in late 2004 in Kiev, Ukraine.
Obviously now I'm trying to find out what I can. I post this here as there is always a possibility that a friend of Kieran's might stumble on this entry and can then contact me.
alex.keegan(at)btinternet.com
Saturday, 7 July 2007
July Blast Ongoing
JULY BLAST
Has produced:
13 Poems
43 Flashes
08 Stories
64 Pieces
Crits so far exactly 250
Has produced:
13 Poems
43 Flashes
08 Stories
64 Pieces
Crits so far exactly 250
Publications, Hits
BCers had 4 stories longlisted at Cadenza, 3 of which made the shortlist and 1 managed $100 3rd place.
HITS now total 107 for the year and $3,573. Prizes and Places now total 29
Publications have now risen to 33 web, 29 paper, 62 Total
HITS now total 107 for the year and $3,573. Prizes and Places now total 29
Publications have now risen to 33 web, 29 paper, 62 Total
Saturday 06:30, but...
Prompts here, but our priority is the seven Primary Stories in by last night's 10PM deadline.
(I critiqued all seven by midnight)
We go for a coffee and talk about him
I can't find my slippers
I saw my ex-first-wife in a corner shop in Carlisle
Most of them wore dark blue overalls, some red
My brother's imaginations did not include a violent death
A school desk full of foetuses
In a canyon
The men who kept growing spare hearts
She had GRACE
I cannot read his books
I surprise myself by missing her
They are rounding up the smokers
An old rotten plank
As I flew in over you, you were an X, pinned to the ground
Jerry the graffiti king, has painted on the moon
I was always more scared of my mother
Pilgrim
13 Reasons for Studying the Navel
Interviews With Various Devils
Diana
The girl I almost fucked, married an army guy
Acumen
Amo, Amas, Amat, Mrs Fucking Cleese
Blackberry Soup
Saturday Morning, Same Old Shit
Troublesome
(I critiqued all seven by midnight)
We go for a coffee and talk about him
I can't find my slippers
I saw my ex-first-wife in a corner shop in Carlisle
Most of them wore dark blue overalls, some red
My brother's imaginations did not include a violent death
A school desk full of foetuses
In a canyon
The men who kept growing spare hearts
She had GRACE
I cannot read his books
I surprise myself by missing her
They are rounding up the smokers
An old rotten plank
As I flew in over you, you were an X, pinned to the ground
Jerry the graffiti king, has painted on the moon
I was always more scared of my mother
Pilgrim
13 Reasons for Studying the Navel
Interviews With Various Devils
Diana
The girl I almost fucked, married an army guy
Acumen
Amo, Amas, Amat, Mrs Fucking Cleese
Blackberry Soup
Saturday Morning, Same Old Shit
Troublesome
Friday, 6 July 2007
Friday Prompts at 21:00
Run for your Life! Monica's Coming!
Stretch your talents as a condom tester
Dinner guest finds host's wife in freezer
Lapis Lazuli
To the Memory of Mr. Oldham
Sally up our Alley
The Pealing of Bells from the Church on top of the Hill
An Unfortunate Mutation
Prayer Before Birth
Cruel and Unusual
A story BEGINNING “It was all a dream ...”
The Crying Game
What are Little Gits made of?
The Long Walk to Freedom
Stretch your talents as a condom tester
Dinner guest finds host's wife in freezer
Lapis Lazuli
To the Memory of Mr. Oldham
Sally up our Alley
The Pealing of Bells from the Church on top of the Hill
An Unfortunate Mutation
Prayer Before Birth
Cruel and Unusual
A story BEGINNING “It was all a dream ...”
The Crying Game
What are Little Gits made of?
The Long Walk to Freedom
Friday Prompts at 19:00
Love Fifteen
Among the Beetles
The man in the bowler hat said so
Like statues in the fields
I know nothing about the horse
Fairground memories
Addicted to the girl
Under the apple tree
Cherry earrings
On the antlers, I hung my overcoat
Night of the hypnotist
Making tracks
My life as a bat
Supernatural divorces
Henry Bloodaxe and the No Smoking sign
Among the Beetles
The man in the bowler hat said so
Like statues in the fields
I know nothing about the horse
Fairground memories
Addicted to the girl
Under the apple tree
Cherry earrings
On the antlers, I hung my overcoat
Night of the hypnotist
Making tracks
My life as a bat
Supernatural divorces
Henry Bloodaxe and the No Smoking sign
Friday 15:30
At Luigi's we drink and smoke
We sing songs about dead soldiers
Lead us not into redemption
We stand on tables and scream at water
The waiter is a sickly boy from Bruges
We cope with the deaths of children, but horses?
This is why I do not weep
When my father died, the dead clock in the hall started working
I appreciate, having no face is a problem, but get a grip
From a balloon the city is patterns, but they are gone when we land
What did you say to him, your murderer?
Once, at a London station, I passed my first wife who did not see me
Like someone wearing the glove he cannot find
I will leave you my debt
This is the first sun of a rotten spring
I didn't mean to, but I have torn the sky
I examine my corpse. It's pathetic
Duvet, blanket, coat
There is something about a good, stiff shit
We will send a dozen men on horses
My boy has fallen in love with a dragon and wants to make babies
Hamster Jam
I would love to unlock the door and let you in
I have an unreasonable hatred of serial killers
We sing songs about dead soldiers
Lead us not into redemption
We stand on tables and scream at water
The waiter is a sickly boy from Bruges
We cope with the deaths of children, but horses?
This is why I do not weep
When my father died, the dead clock in the hall started working
I appreciate, having no face is a problem, but get a grip
From a balloon the city is patterns, but they are gone when we land
What did you say to him, your murderer?
Once, at a London station, I passed my first wife who did not see me
Like someone wearing the glove he cannot find
I will leave you my debt
This is the first sun of a rotten spring
I didn't mean to, but I have torn the sky
I examine my corpse. It's pathetic
Duvet, blanket, coat
There is something about a good, stiff shit
We will send a dozen men on horses
My boy has fallen in love with a dragon and wants to make babies
Hamster Jam
I would love to unlock the door and let you in
I have an unreasonable hatred of serial killers
Friday Prompts at 09:45
The Difference Between Suicide & Killing Yourself
Selling the Farm
Why Whales Want to be Dolphins
A story beginning "This is my last word"
A Short History of Adultery
The Language Instinct
Borders
A Bit of a Know-it-All
The Madwoman in the Attic
Mother Tongue
The American Boy
Shadowed by your father
Don’t talk to me of love
Pink, Stink
Selling the Farm
Why Whales Want to be Dolphins
A story beginning "This is my last word"
A Short History of Adultery
The Language Instinct
Borders
A Bit of a Know-it-All
The Madwoman in the Attic
Mother Tongue
The American Boy
Shadowed by your father
Don’t talk to me of love
Pink, Stink
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Thursday Prompts at 19:00
A female addressed to me has been quarantined
Reflections in a toilet bowl
Grey Sabbath
Hissy Fits
Debbie’s Disastrous Birthday
A bouquet of Stone Roses
Baby Shambles
Moroccan Eggs under a Blazing Sun
Echoes of the Blind Pianist
My Way
Under the Thumb
Daddy doesn’t live here any more
Racing Times
A School for Scandal
Dodging the Paparazzi
Proud to stand up and be shot
8 out of 10 cats are grey in the dark
Reflections in a toilet bowl
Grey Sabbath
Hissy Fits
Debbie’s Disastrous Birthday
A bouquet of Stone Roses
Baby Shambles
Moroccan Eggs under a Blazing Sun
Echoes of the Blind Pianist
My Way
Under the Thumb
Daddy doesn’t live here any more
Racing Times
A School for Scandal
Dodging the Paparazzi
Proud to stand up and be shot
8 out of 10 cats are grey in the dark
13:30, Some More
A dog, the past-midnight suburbs
Entering by the only road
A baseball bat is as good as anything
Clouds decaying
We slaughtered the cattle, burned the fields
Illegal dreams
And we've surely lost our way
I dreamt of home but it was burning
Propeller
What of dignity?
Across water, across time
Not as yellow as expected
A truth for the dark or for the pillow
Don't talk to me about love, talk about Prague
It's not the best view
There's a Fog Upon L.A.
Something of Value
If you must walk on water, make it look like it's tricky
Stone to Stone
X-997-0/A You are an error.
Don't sit in my father's chair
Marzipan
A soldier with black skin took my gun
They have sent us this way, down a dusty road
It started with a stabbing, outside a pub
Entering by the only road
A baseball bat is as good as anything
Clouds decaying
We slaughtered the cattle, burned the fields
Illegal dreams
And we've surely lost our way
I dreamt of home but it was burning
Propeller
What of dignity?
Across water, across time
Not as yellow as expected
A truth for the dark or for the pillow
Don't talk to me about love, talk about Prague
It's not the best view
There's a Fog Upon L.A.
Something of Value
If you must walk on water, make it look like it's tricky
Stone to Stone
X-997-0/A You are an error.
Don't sit in my father's chair
Marzipan
A soldier with black skin took my gun
They have sent us this way, down a dusty road
It started with a stabbing, outside a pub
07:30 Thursday. More Prompts
"Give me back my mink!" she cried.
Actors and voices and lights
All night I have held your hand
And they were turning into butterflies
As soiled as money, old as rag
Dogs bicker in the garbage, cats scream
Dumbly trudging through noise
Here, with my axe, I am chopping in the stillness
I dreamed I saw bombers, riding in the sky
I'll get up soon, and leave my bed unmade
I'll go home, light the lamp
I'm going to join a rock 'n roll band
January Noon. The idle length of a street
Like the wind roaring and pausing
My great-great grandfather sat here, with his sons
My phone only accepts wrong numbers
Now twelve years later, you turn on me
On the dazed white sand, umbrellas leaning
Slow as a fish she came, slow
This afternoon I'll stand up on the hill
We have got to get ourselves, back to the garden
Well, maybe it's just the time of year
Actors and voices and lights
All night I have held your hand
And they were turning into butterflies
As soiled as money, old as rag
Dogs bicker in the garbage, cats scream
Dumbly trudging through noise
Here, with my axe, I am chopping in the stillness
I dreamed I saw bombers, riding in the sky
I'll get up soon, and leave my bed unmade
I'll go home, light the lamp
I'm going to join a rock 'n roll band
January Noon. The idle length of a street
Like the wind roaring and pausing
My great-great grandfather sat here, with his sons
My phone only accepts wrong numbers
Now twelve years later, you turn on me
On the dazed white sand, umbrellas leaning
Slow as a fish she came, slow
This afternoon I'll stand up on the hill
We have got to get ourselves, back to the garden
Well, maybe it's just the time of year
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
Wednesday Prompts 04 23:00
Amber gambler
If only I could find a crystal set
I place my hope on the water
TREASON
Vergissmeinnicht
The hour of our departing
My dark fathers
I am almost afraid
The cinnamon peeler
I shall paint my nails red
SWEETNESS
The trick is to keep breathing
A swarm of bees in June
If only I could find a crystal set
I place my hope on the water
TREASON
Vergissmeinnicht
The hour of our departing
My dark fathers
I am almost afraid
The cinnamon peeler
I shall paint my nails red
SWEETNESS
The trick is to keep breathing
A swarm of bees in June
Wednesday Prompts 03 21:00
I was in bumpy darkness
There across the roadway, there across the river
Slowly he would cruise the neighbourhood
Among all the legs I knew
The baby was finally named
The hardest thing in this world is to live in it
You'll be sorry for what you've said
Now take this granite bowl
We've had our rations for today, it's down in black and white
You felt ill this afternoon, because you're getting better
There across the roadway, there across the river
Slowly he would cruise the neighbourhood
Among all the legs I knew
The baby was finally named
The hardest thing in this world is to live in it
You'll be sorry for what you've said
Now take this granite bowl
We've had our rations for today, it's down in black and white
You felt ill this afternoon, because you're getting better
Wednesday Prompts 02 19:00
Cakes and Babies
Happy Fourth of July!
Bland, James Bland
I asked in the bar for a double entendre, and the barman gave me one
Jelly babies, only the black ones
Elephant boy
Old is the new new
Lucy's Juicy Lips
He keeps it in his pocket
Missing Letters
Mandy's First Time in Toonland
Sipping tequila as the sun goes down
All I'm left with is the dregs at the bottom of my heart
A Fresh Twist
Let's Call the Whole Thing Off
Kids in America
An email addressed to me has been quarantined
Happy Fourth of July!
Bland, James Bland
I asked in the bar for a double entendre, and the barman gave me one
Jelly babies, only the black ones
Elephant boy
Old is the new new
Lucy's Juicy Lips
He keeps it in his pocket
Missing Letters
Mandy's First Time in Toonland
Sipping tequila as the sun goes down
All I'm left with is the dregs at the bottom of my heart
A Fresh Twist
Let's Call the Whole Thing Off
Kids in America
An email addressed to me has been quarantined
Wednesday Prompts 01 07:52
So black no sky squeaks through
All evening eating peanut paste and onions
And by came an angel who had a bright key
Bobbing closer, yellow-pointed, painted wooden shoes
Burrowing Under Barbed-Wire With Spoons
Cigarettes and Coffee
For lipstick, I use my lips
Getting and spending. We lay waste our powers
Hard to Handle
How comforting it is, to get together
It is almost like a wedding
It is what you have forgotten, what you must forget
It's not what they built, but what they knocked down.
I've Been Loving You Too Long
Mr Pitiful
Not Fade Away
Nothing more needs to be said
Respect
Something breaks off all of a sudden
Stolid, blue business suit, the New York Times
The Arms of Mine
The sun surrounds us, but he is a shadow
The world is too much with us; late and soon
Tramp
Wanda you could lose some weight
Why does he lounge there, watching?
It went east. We heard it go. We heard it talking
The television went black
My fingers, separate, gleaming, bloody, like pets
You'll not believe the things you find in skips
And slams the church door in our faces
All evening eating peanut paste and onions
And by came an angel who had a bright key
Bobbing closer, yellow-pointed, painted wooden shoes
Burrowing Under Barbed-Wire With Spoons
Cigarettes and Coffee
For lipstick, I use my lips
Getting and spending. We lay waste our powers
Hard to Handle
How comforting it is, to get together
It is almost like a wedding
It is what you have forgotten, what you must forget
It's not what they built, but what they knocked down.
I've Been Loving You Too Long
Mr Pitiful
Not Fade Away
Nothing more needs to be said
Respect
Something breaks off all of a sudden
Stolid, blue business suit, the New York Times
The Arms of Mine
The sun surrounds us, but he is a shadow
The world is too much with us; late and soon
Tramp
Wanda you could lose some weight
Why does he lounge there, watching?
It went east. We heard it go. We heard it talking
The television went black
My fingers, separate, gleaming, bloody, like pets
You'll not believe the things you find in skips
And slams the church door in our faces
Tuesday, 3 July 2007
11 PM
I've been thinking about Greece
The light of oil lamps and candles
It lives in my spine
O child this is your dream
Every pebble dreams
I'm afraid you think you need to bow before me
ME 109
The beach was full of the young and beautiful
When you are fallen, think of today
The key turns in the ignition
At best we can slow the rate of departure
How difficult it is to look at them
A woman in my class write, "I am sick!"
What seas, what shore, what grey rocks, what islands
The pulse in the arm, less strong and stronger
Whispers and small laughter
Light, dark, dry, damp
I have walked many years in this dark city
There were three paintings and they looked like a set
The light of oil lamps and candles
It lives in my spine
O child this is your dream
Every pebble dreams
I'm afraid you think you need to bow before me
ME 109
The beach was full of the young and beautiful
When you are fallen, think of today
The key turns in the ignition
At best we can slow the rate of departure
How difficult it is to look at them
A woman in my class write, "I am sick!"
What seas, what shore, what grey rocks, what islands
The pulse in the arm, less strong and stronger
Whispers and small laughter
Light, dark, dry, damp
I have walked many years in this dark city
There were three paintings and they looked like a set
9PM
A blond boy wearing thick glasses
A spiteful scar across his face
Because you will not overthrow your life
Even though you outwit me.
I could have been an acrobat
I get rid of the lizard.
I had a wife. I got drunk every Saturday night.
I knelt beside a stream
I must be my father
I once met an intelligent Frenchman
I owe my discovery to the conjunction of a mirror and an encyclopedia
I remember him
I want to fuck a college girl
It is so horrible between us
Montreal, what the fuck?
My balls float in the bath
My dark companion has a camera
Sick of all the shit
Sister in the snow
So the great affair is over
The child, in strangers' hands
The sea is rising, mother
Things will be a lot better in Milan.
Whatever I say is too loud.
Where is the beetle I gave you?
Which one is the washing machine?
You fucking whore
Slowly, I married her. I had to get her back, somehow
Take the word butterfly. Yes, TAKE it.
See you at the next funeral
Pride and Instability
The Soft Hush of Sand
All Red Traffic Lights
A story beginning, "There are times in the affairs of men ..."
Carrying Pheasants Home
Mourning Mouth
Time to Say Goodbye to God
Above Suspicion, or is it Under?
Pink Knickers
I Ache. Conjugate.
Drop thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease
Tongue Cramp
Jack Flash Sat on a Candlestick
So Much to Do, So Little Done
A spiteful scar across his face
Because you will not overthrow your life
Even though you outwit me.
I could have been an acrobat
I get rid of the lizard.
I had a wife. I got drunk every Saturday night.
I knelt beside a stream
I must be my father
I once met an intelligent Frenchman
I owe my discovery to the conjunction of a mirror and an encyclopedia
I remember him
I want to fuck a college girl
It is so horrible between us
Montreal, what the fuck?
My balls float in the bath
My dark companion has a camera
Sick of all the shit
Sister in the snow
So the great affair is over
The child, in strangers' hands
The sea is rising, mother
Things will be a lot better in Milan.
Whatever I say is too loud.
Where is the beetle I gave you?
Which one is the washing machine?
You fucking whore
Slowly, I married her. I had to get her back, somehow
Take the word butterfly. Yes, TAKE it.
See you at the next funeral
Pride and Instability
The Soft Hush of Sand
All Red Traffic Lights
A story beginning, "There are times in the affairs of men ..."
Carrying Pheasants Home
Mourning Mouth
Time to Say Goodbye to God
Above Suspicion, or is it Under?
Pink Knickers
I Ache. Conjugate.
Drop thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease
Tongue Cramp
Jack Flash Sat on a Candlestick
So Much to Do, So Little Done
More Prompts for 21:00
See you at the next funeral
Pride and Instability
The Soft Hush of Sand
All Red Traffic Lights
A story beginning, "There are times in the affairs of men ..."
Carrying Pheasants Home
Mourning Mouth
Time to Say Goodbye to God
Above Suspicion, or is it Under?
Pink Knickers
I Ache. Conjugate.
Drop thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease
Tongue Cramp
Jack Flash Sat on a Candlestick
So Much to Do, So Little Done
Pride and Instability
The Soft Hush of Sand
All Red Traffic Lights
A story beginning, "There are times in the affairs of men ..."
Carrying Pheasants Home
Mourning Mouth
Time to Say Goodbye to God
Above Suspicion, or is it Under?
Pink Knickers
I Ache. Conjugate.
Drop thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease
Tongue Cramp
Jack Flash Sat on a Candlestick
So Much to Do, So Little Done
For 7PM (or 9)
Prompts for the 1900 slot.
If you don't use them then, you can use them at 9PM
(I have to go out)
The door opened slowly
I came by myself to a very crowded place
Lady, unfold me
I am the lover, between the one who hurt you, and the one who might stay
I am a broken repair-man
She wore green stockings: she slept with everyone
I saw my dead mother walking up the high street, pulling a basket on wheels
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
Under the avalanche
75 square metres of insulation
Welcome to the war; make yourselves comfortable
The room is dark, the photographs gloomy
I knew you were falling in love with me
Absence is my last weapon
I have reserved for you, a special contempt
Who by fire? Who by water?
I am dancing on the darker side
Balloons and streamers, all black
These walls are too thin
The polished floor
I would trade you for a 50-inch flat TV (HD Ready)
My keys, my brown bag
If you don't use them then, you can use them at 9PM
(I have to go out)
The door opened slowly
I came by myself to a very crowded place
Lady, unfold me
I am the lover, between the one who hurt you, and the one who might stay
I am a broken repair-man
She wore green stockings: she slept with everyone
I saw my dead mother walking up the high street, pulling a basket on wheels
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
Under the avalanche
75 square metres of insulation
Welcome to the war; make yourselves comfortable
The room is dark, the photographs gloomy
I knew you were falling in love with me
Absence is my last weapon
I have reserved for you, a special contempt
Who by fire? Who by water?
I am dancing on the darker side
Balloons and streamers, all black
These walls are too thin
The polished floor
I would trade you for a 50-inch flat TV (HD Ready)
My keys, my brown bag
Prompts at 2PM
You tore your shirt
It is dark at four o'clock
We touch each other between the legs
I have been punished
I was lost, then I met you on the road
This is why she hates my work
Doctor, Doctor, pass the fuse
He meets a girl, it could almost be an accident
I am a spy, the devil pays me well
The sun is streaming through the rooflight, dust spins
Without you, without memory, without sky
I don't tell you everything, and you rarely listen
Let us change our profession
Without my lenses, what kind of witness do I make?
I found a poem on a bus
My imaginary friend doesn't like me any more
Between us the air is putrid, boiling. This is lust and we are lost.
I took a man to water but he would not drown
We ate dinner with our eyes closed
This is my voice.
It is dark at four o'clock
We touch each other between the legs
I have been punished
I was lost, then I met you on the road
This is why she hates my work
Doctor, Doctor, pass the fuse
He meets a girl, it could almost be an accident
I am a spy, the devil pays me well
The sun is streaming through the rooflight, dust spins
Without you, without memory, without sky
I don't tell you everything, and you rarely listen
Let us change our profession
Without my lenses, what kind of witness do I make?
I found a poem on a bus
My imaginary friend doesn't like me any more
Between us the air is putrid, boiling. This is lust and we are lost.
I took a man to water but he would not drown
We ate dinner with our eyes closed
This is my voice.
Prompts at 11:00
I do not know if the world has lied. I have lied
Like an empty telephone box passed at night
I have a tin of cancer
Bunker
Let them eat toilet-cakes
The hat-check girl has syphillis
My grandfather loved tobacco and little girls
Alcopops
I wanted to thank you but can't remember why
Find somewhere safe
We are wrapped together, on this ledge, two sad Americans
Listen to very old men
Radio 999and9
A remembrance of Insects
Goodbye, dope, sex, dreams
A buttercup beneath the chin
Tomorrow I will invent a new trick
Thomas has bought the farm
The Chinese Poet's Wishes
A Burning House
Like an empty telephone box passed at night
I have a tin of cancer
Bunker
Let them eat toilet-cakes
The hat-check girl has syphillis
My grandfather loved tobacco and little girls
Alcopops
I wanted to thank you but can't remember why
Find somewhere safe
We are wrapped together, on this ledge, two sad Americans
Listen to very old men
Radio 999and9
A remembrance of Insects
Goodbye, dope, sex, dreams
A buttercup beneath the chin
Tomorrow I will invent a new trick
Thomas has bought the farm
The Chinese Poet's Wishes
A Burning House
07:13 Tuesday
PROMPTS
I hear a man climb the stairs and clear his throat
Outside a war is raging
Taste blood on your tongue
I write this only to rob you
People turn to stare from streetcars, spitting
Of fish and water snakes
If your neighbour disappears
It can spread, it can spread
Your wife and your daughter and your son, gone
In his black armour
Hawk
I have gone too far
Beneath my hands your small breasts
It isn't that you are beautiful
Salt
For my love is far away and death is closer
As though a masterpiece
Coffee. Warm bread
I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be
Who will remember us?
Listen, a moan, a murmur, a snigger
To mate for life
Many would have stopped before this
I hear a man climb the stairs and clear his throat
Outside a war is raging
Taste blood on your tongue
I write this only to rob you
People turn to stare from streetcars, spitting
Of fish and water snakes
If your neighbour disappears
It can spread, it can spread
Your wife and your daughter and your son, gone
In his black armour
Hawk
I have gone too far
Beneath my hands your small breasts
It isn't that you are beautiful
Salt
For my love is far away and death is closer
As though a masterpiece
Coffee. Warm bread
I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be
Who will remember us?
Listen, a moan, a murmur, a snigger
To mate for life
Many would have stopped before this
Monday, 2 July 2007
23:06 Prompts
They live opposite the church, funny couple
I take the route that crosses yours
A day bright with frost and fire
A young man, smiling
After an hour he stumbled away
He swims one-armed, in beautiful circles
He used to live in Baghdad
Hey, I shout, can you fix my life?
His father hurries to greet him
How lucky to be ignorant
I hear boots in the street
I've run out of tricks
My aunt paused
She says she wants to open the box
So we troop out into the street as the fog rolls in
The baker, the oven
The frequency of sea-monsters
The girl gently pries her mother's fingers
The river, dead negroes
They have found her bicycle
Troy has fallen
We called the house hell
At the village dance
The drowning, the singing
Mastery
When you leave the rough road
Three-wheel drive
I am uncertain. It is almost morning.
Ash on an old man's sleeve
I take the route that crosses yours
A day bright with frost and fire
A young man, smiling
After an hour he stumbled away
He swims one-armed, in beautiful circles
He used to live in Baghdad
Hey, I shout, can you fix my life?
His father hurries to greet him
How lucky to be ignorant
I hear boots in the street
I've run out of tricks
My aunt paused
She says she wants to open the box
So we troop out into the street as the fog rolls in
The baker, the oven
The frequency of sea-monsters
The girl gently pries her mother's fingers
The river, dead negroes
They have found her bicycle
Troy has fallen
We called the house hell
At the village dance
The drowning, the singing
Mastery
When you leave the rough road
Three-wheel drive
I am uncertain. It is almost morning.
Ash on an old man's sleeve
22:06 Prompts
A child builds a wall
A crowd in the face
At first I went just for the girls
Days pass, fires go out
Do blind people sing about beauty?
Fox
Has it ever worked?
He dives into the fire
I guess your guess is as good as mine
Let me sit among thieves
Married people, lovers
Pickpockets prowl among the stalls
She cleaned his car on the Sunday
Straitjacket
The air dislikes you
The couple at the other table were happy
The nurses are like white birds hovering
The way a window cracks
There a tree, there the river, there a tree
This was Sarajevo, summer
Why does a flower smell like rotting flesh?
A crowd in the face
At first I went just for the girls
Days pass, fires go out
Do blind people sing about beauty?
Fox
Has it ever worked?
He dives into the fire
I guess your guess is as good as mine
Let me sit among thieves
Married people, lovers
Pickpockets prowl among the stalls
She cleaned his car on the Sunday
Straitjacket
The air dislikes you
The couple at the other table were happy
The nurses are like white birds hovering
The way a window cracks
There a tree, there the river, there a tree
This was Sarajevo, summer
Why does a flower smell like rotting flesh?
21:00 Prompts
Had we but world enough, and time
Hot Dog, Jumping Frog, Alberquerque
Low Hangers
Still Life
The purple-headed mountains, the river running by
Soft, strong, and very very long
Over There, Not HERE
It Isn’t the Cough that Carries You Off
Annabelle and the Boy Scout
Past Life Regression
Magnolia or Cream?
I kid you not. It was THIS big ...
A story beginning, “This is all bollocks, lies ...”
And when the bloom has faded
We sang dirges in the dark
Hot Dog, Jumping Frog, Alberquerque
Low Hangers
Still Life
The purple-headed mountains, the river running by
Soft, strong, and very very long
Over There, Not HERE
It Isn’t the Cough that Carries You Off
Annabelle and the Boy Scout
Past Life Regression
Magnolia or Cream?
I kid you not. It was THIS big ...
A story beginning, “This is all bollocks, lies ...”
And when the bloom has faded
We sang dirges in the dark
17:10 Prompts
The river is within us
A dish, grapes, on an autumn table
Bucket
A distant granite
Chain
A woman lying naked in the cornfield
Nail
Between midnight and dawn, when the past is all deception
Light
I do not know much about Gods
Radio
I met men and women constantly dissatisfied
Jig-saw
I stayed, iced-in, in a dark cabin
Clouds
In the years since I saw you
Lady, darkness
She called for her husband
The clink of wires in the wind
The dwellers in cities
Monkeys
The night dies at ten-past-two, the time of the rat-people
The river is a strong brown god
The sea has many voices
A burned man
The shattered lobster-pot, the broken oar
The silent withering of autumn flowers
The woods are full of men with umbrellas
Unweave, unwind, unravel
A dish, grapes, on an autumn table
Bucket
A distant granite
Chain
A woman lying naked in the cornfield
Nail
Between midnight and dawn, when the past is all deception
Light
I do not know much about Gods
Radio
I met men and women constantly dissatisfied
Jig-saw
I stayed, iced-in, in a dark cabin
Clouds
In the years since I saw you
Lady, darkness
She called for her husband
The clink of wires in the wind
The dwellers in cities
Monkeys
The night dies at ten-past-two, the time of the rat-people
The river is a strong brown god
The sea has many voices
A burned man
The shattered lobster-pot, the broken oar
The silent withering of autumn flowers
The woods are full of men with umbrellas
Unweave, unwind, unravel
13:21 More Prompts
It is only by looking back that life takes on a pattern
Dirty little Jew
He had a gift for public speaking
Naked as a mannequin
He has moved, piece by piece into silence
Hate will keep us together
He feels the sun's benediction
Aisle, Altar, Hymn
Keep your jokes to yourself
Two men on a raft heading for the falls
For a while my hands are empty
There is no sky today
Two days listening to short-wave
He should have burned longer
The Eskimo Disco
Taken from the hands of a drunken miner
My trousers shrink, the belts shorten
This was a beginning
Let us go then, you, me and a few mates
Floating in Inner Space
They graze, anxiously planning
A sheep has two goals, to be out of this field and to be dead
The flock conspires
A devil at rest
Now all my words are bricks, but what for mortar?
Dirty little Jew
He had a gift for public speaking
Naked as a mannequin
He has moved, piece by piece into silence
Hate will keep us together
He feels the sun's benediction
Aisle, Altar, Hymn
Keep your jokes to yourself
Two men on a raft heading for the falls
For a while my hands are empty
There is no sky today
Two days listening to short-wave
He should have burned longer
The Eskimo Disco
Taken from the hands of a drunken miner
My trousers shrink, the belts shorten
This was a beginning
Let us go then, you, me and a few mates
Floating in Inner Space
They graze, anxiously planning
A sheep has two goals, to be out of this field and to be dead
The flock conspires
A devil at rest
Now all my words are bricks, but what for mortar?
Prompts for 09:00 Monday
An old man in a dry month
Broken hinges
Dying, darling, is the easy bit
Every streetlamp that I pass
I only did it for a laugh
I'd forgotten, she said
Laughter tinkled among the teacups
Memory and desire, stirring
Miss Helen Slingsby
She arrived at ten o'clock sharp
She fumbled in a jacket pocket, coming out with pens, comb
She had a bad cold. Nevertheless
Summer surprised us
The hippo rests on its belly in the mud
The phone wasn't exactly private
The steaming white flesh of perfectly-cooked fish
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens
We should get a room
What was the mystery number?
Where are the eagles and the trumpets?
Whisky and Ginger
Broken hinges
Dying, darling, is the easy bit
Every streetlamp that I pass
I only did it for a laugh
I'd forgotten, she said
Laughter tinkled among the teacups
Memory and desire, stirring
Miss Helen Slingsby
She arrived at ten o'clock sharp
She fumbled in a jacket pocket, coming out with pens, comb
She had a bad cold. Nevertheless
Summer surprised us
The hippo rests on its belly in the mud
The phone wasn't exactly private
The steaming white flesh of perfectly-cooked fish
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens
We should get a room
What was the mystery number?
Where are the eagles and the trumpets?
Whisky and Ginger
Blast Prompts 07:20 Monday
And indeed there will be time
Angels staggering on tenement roofs
Arms
Blind streets
Burning money in wastebaskets
Decisions and revisions
Expelled from the academies
Faint music from a far room
His hair is growing thin
Jumping in limousines
Platonic conversations
Restless nights in cheap hotels
Smoking in the supernatural darkness
Soft October night
Starving, hysterical, naked
The best minds of my generation
The fag-ends of my younger days
The FBI
The machinery of night
The soot that falls from chimneys
Time to turn back and descend the stair
Tragedy among the scholars
Wandered around and around at three a.m.
What is it?
When the evening is spread out against the sky
With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares
Angels staggering on tenement roofs
Arms
Blind streets
Burning money in wastebaskets
Decisions and revisions
Expelled from the academies
Faint music from a far room
His hair is growing thin
Jumping in limousines
Platonic conversations
Restless nights in cheap hotels
Smoking in the supernatural darkness
Soft October night
Starving, hysterical, naked
The best minds of my generation
The fag-ends of my younger days
The FBI
The machinery of night
The soot that falls from chimneys
Time to turn back and descend the stair
Tragedy among the scholars
Wandered around and around at three a.m.
What is it?
When the evening is spread out against the sky
With dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares
Sunday, 1 July 2007
10:45 p.m. SUNDAY
Booty Queen
License my roving hands, and let them go, Behind, before, above, between, below
Epidemic!
The Three Tenners
A Game of Three Halves
Eyes Sticking Out of My head
Red-Raw, Bleeding (and that’s the good bits)
Rosy Fingered Dawn
Dimples
Words that Run Away from You
Black Spot
Northanger Park
A Portrait of the Artist as a Mad Hatter
Visiting from St Petersburg
Why daffodils are Yellow
The Hidden Paw
License my roving hands, and let them go, Behind, before, above, between, below
Epidemic!
The Three Tenners
A Game of Three Halves
Eyes Sticking Out of My head
Red-Raw, Bleeding (and that’s the good bits)
Rosy Fingered Dawn
Dimples
Words that Run Away from You
Black Spot
Northanger Park
A Portrait of the Artist as a Mad Hatter
Visiting from St Petersburg
Why daffodils are Yellow
The Hidden Paw
8PM Sunday
She had an hour, at best
She slipped out of the building and crossed the road.
She wanted a little room for thinking
Sometimes there were things to watch
The Inspector was lost in thought as he steered his Sierra through the quiet streets.
The siren odour of a burger van
The universe is forever expanding
There are discarded things behind the garage
There are lessons in the circular
This is the gift my son gave me
When all the others were away at mass
A thin, tough body under the pyjamas
After swimming, that chlorinated feeling
An old, fat paperback, edge with grime
And some were responding, and some were crying
Because she shares a bedroom with the baby
Come kiss me goodnight
Photographs of the chapel.
She slipped out of the building and crossed the road.
She wanted a little room for thinking
Sometimes there were things to watch
The Inspector was lost in thought as he steered his Sierra through the quiet streets.
The siren odour of a burger van
The universe is forever expanding
There are discarded things behind the garage
There are lessons in the circular
This is the gift my son gave me
When all the others were away at mass
A thin, tough body under the pyjamas
After swimming, that chlorinated feeling
An old, fat paperback, edge with grime
And some were responding, and some were crying
Because she shares a bedroom with the baby
Come kiss me goodnight
Photographs of the chapel.
Live Blast Sessions Tonight
Here is the first 6PM
EDecember. Another Monday!
Early. Cold. Crisp. Black.
Firewood wrapped in newspaper
He drew love from his small body
Pig, running
Riding the crossbar
Self-levelling concrete.
He was breathing slowly.
I have forgotten my teachers
I have wrapped up the memories of my father
I taught myself to please him
I was all hers as we peeled potatoes
It's not the hens that matter, it's eggs
My father rode a horse, chasing gypsies
My mother sewed. I don't know what she thought about
One hundred and one tricks
Oxo
Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know
EDecember. Another Monday!
Early. Cold. Crisp. Black.
Firewood wrapped in newspaper
He drew love from his small body
Pig, running
Riding the crossbar
Self-levelling concrete.
He was breathing slowly.
I have forgotten my teachers
I have wrapped up the memories of my father
I taught myself to please him
I was all hers as we peeled potatoes
It's not the hens that matter, it's eggs
My father rode a horse, chasing gypsies
My mother sewed. I don't know what she thought about
One hundred and one tricks
Oxo
Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know
Non-BC but in the Blast?
Join ezboards (free)
Create a GLOBAL (not local) ezboard ID
Post a hello in the open area of Boot Camp, so we have your eez ID
We will then arrange access there
Create a GLOBAL (not local) ezboard ID
Post a hello in the open area of Boot Camp, so we have your eez ID
We will then arrange access there
Two more Near-Hits in comps
Joel returns to say he has two final placings, results TBA
Taking Prizes-Places to 29 for the year
Taking Prizes-Places to 29 for the year
July Blast 002 12:51 01-07
Almost at once you say that we must go
The furniture has moved, paintings
The gurney
Room Forty-Four
Something has been spilt
Yer Mam & Dad
The two young ones, fed, bathed, zippered
Race For Life
The difference between a man and a gun
You said, lightly, just forget it
You ask directions from a shepherd
Two kinds of dying
A child's handgrip, full of trust
The difference between a women and a violin
The voices don't worm through
I lay the suitcase on Dad's bed
A thumb-sized father climbs the stairs
I though, "He's full of shit,"
You do not do, you do not do
The furniture has moved, paintings
The gurney
Room Forty-Four
Something has been spilt
Yer Mam & Dad
The two young ones, fed, bathed, zippered
Race For Life
The difference between a man and a gun
You said, lightly, just forget it
You ask directions from a shepherd
Two kinds of dying
A child's handgrip, full of trust
The difference between a women and a violin
The voices don't worm through
I lay the suitcase on Dad's bed
A thumb-sized father climbs the stairs
I though, "He's full of shit,"
You do not do, you do not do
1st July Prompts at 09.45
Bring me the head of Feliciano Lopez
Mugshot
A murder of cows
A murder at Cowes
My Tiny Hand is Frozen
Behind the Blast
Eric's Extraordinary Adventure
I'll Whistle Tomorrow
I heard you calling in the night
Your pointed tongue
Driving down the Milky Way
Death of the Loch Ness Monster
The People's Sunday
Sod the Barbarians!
Mugshot
A murder of cows
A murder at Cowes
My Tiny Hand is Frozen
Behind the Blast
Eric's Extraordinary Adventure
I'll Whistle Tomorrow
I heard you calling in the night
Your pointed tongue
Driving down the Milky Way
Death of the Loch Ness Monster
The People's Sunday
Sod the Barbarians!
als on blast targets
what's the point of setting targets?
if you feel like writing, you write, right?
and if you don't, you don't.
that's the way i used to write when i started this whole thing of trying - pretending - to be a writer.
i had no idea how much i'd written in a week, or a month, and i had no idea how much i should be writing in a week or a month.
no one can tell you how much you SHOULD be writing. no one apart from yourself.
and that's where targets come in, for me.
it's easy to con yourself that you're a writer, but if you've got records of how much you wrote that week, that month, that year, how many words, stories, poems, how many subs, how many rejects ets then you can prove it. or otherwise.
it helps me to realise that i'm not doing enough, and it gives me a buzz to know that, hey, this month i'm the most productive i've been since january.
this month we're having a blast. personal targets are set for amounts of words, stories, flashes, poems, subs. these targets are posted, made public, and a continuous thread is kept updating how close we get to meeting the targets.
now that's pressure!
but a good, positive kind of pressure. the kind of pressure that inspires you to work, to admit your failures (and successes) to your peers.
the setting of these targets is, for me, important.
no point being all pie-in-the-sky about it. they have to be realistic, otherwise the month is a failure befre you start. but equally, there's no point being cautious, just in case. that ruins the whole point of the exercise.
so i've set realistic but demanding targets for myself. targets i should be able to meet, if i put in some effort. this should mean i get some writing done, more than usual, and get some stories out there, more than i already have.
the big thing is - as alex always says - to hit these targets quickly. a push at the beginning of the blast means that you're never playing catch-up.
personally, i find this almost impossible as i live my whole life around the premise of why do today what you can put off til tomorrow.
but i'm going to give it a go and try for a quick start to the blast, today, and try to hit all my targets early.
so here they are:
4 stories (usual for a month)
10 flashes (usually i do none!)
10 poems (most i've evere managed is six)
20 subs (i struggle to hit 10 usually)
20,000 words (again, i usually struggle to hit 10,000)
these might not seem like a big deal, but they are to me (and that's the point)
so, let's see how it goes.
if you feel like writing, you write, right?
and if you don't, you don't.
that's the way i used to write when i started this whole thing of trying - pretending - to be a writer.
i had no idea how much i'd written in a week, or a month, and i had no idea how much i should be writing in a week or a month.
no one can tell you how much you SHOULD be writing. no one apart from yourself.
and that's where targets come in, for me.
it's easy to con yourself that you're a writer, but if you've got records of how much you wrote that week, that month, that year, how many words, stories, poems, how many subs, how many rejects ets then you can prove it. or otherwise.
it helps me to realise that i'm not doing enough, and it gives me a buzz to know that, hey, this month i'm the most productive i've been since january.
this month we're having a blast. personal targets are set for amounts of words, stories, flashes, poems, subs. these targets are posted, made public, and a continuous thread is kept updating how close we get to meeting the targets.
now that's pressure!
but a good, positive kind of pressure. the kind of pressure that inspires you to work, to admit your failures (and successes) to your peers.
the setting of these targets is, for me, important.
no point being all pie-in-the-sky about it. they have to be realistic, otherwise the month is a failure befre you start. but equally, there's no point being cautious, just in case. that ruins the whole point of the exercise.
so i've set realistic but demanding targets for myself. targets i should be able to meet, if i put in some effort. this should mean i get some writing done, more than usual, and get some stories out there, more than i already have.
the big thing is - as alex always says - to hit these targets quickly. a push at the beginning of the blast means that you're never playing catch-up.
personally, i find this almost impossible as i live my whole life around the premise of why do today what you can put off til tomorrow.
but i'm going to give it a go and try for a quick start to the blast, today, and try to hit all my targets early.
so here they are:
4 stories (usual for a month)
10 flashes (usually i do none!)
10 poems (most i've evere managed is six)
20 subs (i struggle to hit 10 usually)
20,000 words (again, i usually struggle to hit 10,000)
these might not seem like a big deal, but they are to me (and that's the point)
so, let's see how it goes.
Saturday, 30 June 2007
Saturday Prompts 01 08:06
A murder of crows
A widow stands at a window
All my lovers, in alphabetical order
Anger does not arouse a chair, grief, a table
Boys with bread-pudding in the hands, kicking a can
But not the kitchen sink
Driving along the motorway
Grant me good rest tonight, Lord
How d'you get down off an elephant?
Is the soul solid, like iron?
Late afternoon shines through chinks in the barn
Laura sleeping without pants
Marie drives back and forth
The evenings dazzle
The smell of boiling jam
There will be talking of lovely things
Things will be different
What is a room if not its memories?
What we call a beginning is often an end
When a lover dies
Why do they call it ashes?
A widow stands at a window
All my lovers, in alphabetical order
Anger does not arouse a chair, grief, a table
Boys with bread-pudding in the hands, kicking a can
But not the kitchen sink
Driving along the motorway
Grant me good rest tonight, Lord
How d'you get down off an elephant?
Is the soul solid, like iron?
Late afternoon shines through chinks in the barn
Laura sleeping without pants
Marie drives back and forth
The evenings dazzle
The smell of boiling jam
There will be talking of lovely things
Things will be different
What is a room if not its memories?
What we call a beginning is often an end
When a lover dies
Why do they call it ashes?
Friday, 29 June 2007
als on still warming up
last night i got home to discover i hadn;' placed in the top four of the UH competition (top prize £1000) so i have to make do with a top twenty place and anthology publication (which is great, actually, but hey, a grand's a grand)
also got a reject from liar's league, which i had high hopes for.
so not in the greatest of moods.
as part of the warm up for the july blast, i'd written two flashes, both over 1000 words, and a poem i was realtively pleased with. so last night - primaries deadline looming - i got straight down to a story.
two thousand words later, there we go - just finished re-reading it now, a day after writing it. i'm too close to judge the quality, i always need a couple of days, but it feels good to have basically done my primaries story a day before deadline.
also, the warm up pushed me over 12000 words for the month, for only the third time this year, and has produced maybe three subbable pieces.
now we've got the real thing starting this weekend.
bring it on...
also got a reject from liar's league, which i had high hopes for.
so not in the greatest of moods.
as part of the warm up for the july blast, i'd written two flashes, both over 1000 words, and a poem i was realtively pleased with. so last night - primaries deadline looming - i got straight down to a story.
two thousand words later, there we go - just finished re-reading it now, a day after writing it. i'm too close to judge the quality, i always need a couple of days, but it feels good to have basically done my primaries story a day before deadline.
also, the warm up pushed me over 12000 words for the month, for only the third time this year, and has produced maybe three subbable pieces.
now we've got the real thing starting this weekend.
bring it on...
Stats Update
28 June
A string of final places in a number of comps (results TBA)
and another half-dozen publications
two budding poets get into Poetic Hours, TomC appears at Defenestration, Cally has a story dramatised in London at "Liars League", "Rupert"'s stoy "Kicking" and RVJ's story "Soccer, Cake" appear at Flashquake, each earning $25
Reported Publications this year 54
Hits for the year now total 106, earning $3,473
The warm-up to the Jluy Blast has profuced 15 pieces to date
A string of final places in a number of comps (results TBA)
and another half-dozen publications
two budding poets get into Poetic Hours, TomC appears at Defenestration, Cally has a story dramatised in London at "Liars League", "Rupert"'s stoy "Kicking" and RVJ's story "Soccer, Cake" appear at Flashquake, each earning $25
Reported Publications this year 54
Hits for the year now total 106, earning $3,473
The warm-up to the Jluy Blast has profuced 15 pieces to date
Friday Prompts 01 06:30
REMEMBER WE HAVE A PRIMARY (STORY) DEADLINE TONIGHT
FOR STORIES, NOT FLASHES.
PROMPTS
Only the porter could open the lock
I am the bastard William Williams
The hotel manager read it
Well, Bethan, looks like I went and did it after all
He cut through the canvas
She paused and added, 1913
Tents like white commas, as far as the eye could see
I can't seem to find my feet
To understand, you must lose things
Your life is like a house that unbuilds itself
The pellets we are fed
Time explodes like a nail-bomb
My old man said follow the van
Last Orders
Fortress Singapore
Snow is falling again
The woman opposite is dozing, thinking of murders
FOR STORIES, NOT FLASHES.
PROMPTS
Only the porter could open the lock
I am the bastard William Williams
The hotel manager read it
Well, Bethan, looks like I went and did it after all
He cut through the canvas
She paused and added, 1913
Tents like white commas, as far as the eye could see
I can't seem to find my feet
To understand, you must lose things
Your life is like a house that unbuilds itself
The pellets we are fed
Time explodes like a nail-bomb
My old man said follow the van
Last Orders
Fortress Singapore
Snow is falling again
The woman opposite is dozing, thinking of murders
Thursday, 28 June 2007
Thursday Prompts at 22:30
Barking
One man went to mow
Half-way up the stairs is the stair where I sit
Monopoly Wars
Catchphrase
Eating Bush Meat
The man with rubber arms
Conspiracy Fairies
Memories of granny's kitchen
Big Game
In the mouth of the cave
Manflu
Adventures of a Wheelie Bin on a Green island
Cell Block X
The essential uselessness of an uncharged mouse
One man went to mow
Half-way up the stairs is the stair where I sit
Monopoly Wars
Catchphrase
Eating Bush Meat
The man with rubber arms
Conspiracy Fairies
Memories of granny's kitchen
Big Game
In the mouth of the cave
Manflu
Adventures of a Wheelie Bin on a Green island
Cell Block X
The essential uselessness of an uncharged mouse
Thursday Prompts for 6PM & 8PM
Chairs move by themselves, and books
The ferryman lay drunk in his boat
When the heart stumbles
He is conscious only at brief intervals
I did not imagine being bald
Each night eating a little further
An enamel bath
Window frames, pictures
I didn't doubt for a moment you were dead
You could always bring me flowers
Tomcat
What can moonlight do?
An old woman with heavy breasts
A thing to look away from
Immaculate Conception
And wheeled him off
Joe Smith, eight-six-and-a-half
My face catches the wind
Imagine, snapshots of our deaths
I remember the last red rose
The murderer has been patient with his poisons
Their little house has forty rooms
Seventy-nine years in a small box
A groundsheet, a pool of human blood
The trees are careful
The ferryman lay drunk in his boat
When the heart stumbles
He is conscious only at brief intervals
I did not imagine being bald
Each night eating a little further
An enamel bath
Window frames, pictures
I didn't doubt for a moment you were dead
You could always bring me flowers
Tomcat
What can moonlight do?
An old woman with heavy breasts
A thing to look away from
Immaculate Conception
And wheeled him off
Joe Smith, eight-six-and-a-half
My face catches the wind
Imagine, snapshots of our deaths
I remember the last red rose
The murderer has been patient with his poisons
Their little house has forty rooms
Seventy-nine years in a small box
A groundsheet, a pool of human blood
The trees are careful
Thursday 02 12:04
PROMPTS
Give me the strongest cheese, one that stinks
From the window I see horses
By afternoon there were cars everywhere
I was in Berlin
I walked on the tops of trees
A cow is giving birth
What is the smell of being human?
The purple mist of trees upon a mountain
The neighbours heard it
Once, I caught a tremendous fish
When despair climbs into my bed
Coffee, condensed milk, brandy
I can hear humming
Dull, hungry, like a damp dish-cloth
Take another look
Apple
Tell me this is not why you came
What is fucked-up, suffocating
Nothing is known for sure
Give me the strongest cheese, one that stinks
From the window I see horses
By afternoon there were cars everywhere
I was in Berlin
I walked on the tops of trees
A cow is giving birth
What is the smell of being human?
The purple mist of trees upon a mountain
The neighbours heard it
Once, I caught a tremendous fish
When despair climbs into my bed
Coffee, condensed milk, brandy
I can hear humming
Dull, hungry, like a damp dish-cloth
Take another look
Apple
Tell me this is not why you came
What is fucked-up, suffocating
Nothing is known for sure
Thursday 01 07:07
PROMPTS
A crow fished from a blocked chimney
Bud
Hoofprints in sand
Down by the nets
What comes in through a cat-flap
Without oars we rowed for hours
What if a road decided to go somewhere else?
As a dog with two dicks
Karthoum
You might hear, second, third, fourth hand, that I am unwell
He who lives by the sword. Is scary
That night, blind corners could suddenly see
Dream Kitchen
McDonalds as a War Crime
With nothing left I phone you
Concentrate on her various attributes
Behind Blockbuster Video
When they told me I was dead I said, not funny
Omnibus
univented blades of grass
The earth still moves
A crow fished from a blocked chimney
Bud
Hoofprints in sand
Down by the nets
What comes in through a cat-flap
Without oars we rowed for hours
What if a road decided to go somewhere else?
As a dog with two dicks
Karthoum
You might hear, second, third, fourth hand, that I am unwell
He who lives by the sword. Is scary
That night, blind corners could suddenly see
Dream Kitchen
McDonalds as a War Crime
With nothing left I phone you
Concentrate on her various attributes
Behind Blockbuster Video
When they told me I was dead I said, not funny
Omnibus
univented blades of grass
The earth still moves
Wednesday, 27 June 2007
Prompts, Wednesday, 22:30
Caravans and Cream Soda
When the Waters Cover the Sea
Bribery, Bilberries
A good laugh and a couple of beers
A million words escape me
Bringing her down to size
What do you eat when the chips are down
The Ten-second Rule
Exterminate! Exterminate!
Behind the Sofa
Smiling Happy Places
Foster's Lair
Death of a Jam-maker
When the Waters Cover the Sea
Bribery, Bilberries
A good laugh and a couple of beers
A million words escape me
Bringing her down to size
What do you eat when the chips are down
The Ten-second Rule
Exterminate! Exterminate!
Behind the Sofa
Smiling Happy Places
Foster's Lair
Death of a Jam-maker
als- more on the pre blast blast
last night was a difficult one
lots of real life stuff to contend with, but determined to crank out a flash or at least a poem...
some great prompts floating around, and i managed just over a thousand words flash, but it happened in two sittings. first thirty minutesor so just took off based on three or four of the prompts, and i didn;t really stop to think about what the hell i was writing.
then real life interrupted and i had to leave the thing for a couple of hours.
not ideal.
came back to it and realised that it was a million miles from what i usually like to write/read.
it's weird where these things come from when you're flashing - if i'd thought about it at all, i can't see me ever writing those characters, pl0t events, that voice.
but that's what was there, and i managed to finish it off in about another twenty minutes.
also managed to crit four other flashes, but only managed tto post one before real life got in the way again.
still, two nights, two passable if not publishable flashes, over two thousand words written.
as a start, it'll do...
but there's subs to think about, there's primaries on friday, then the blast proper starts at the weekend.
but that's the secret, i think.
never stop.
lots of real life stuff to contend with, but determined to crank out a flash or at least a poem...
some great prompts floating around, and i managed just over a thousand words flash, but it happened in two sittings. first thirty minutesor so just took off based on three or four of the prompts, and i didn;t really stop to think about what the hell i was writing.
then real life interrupted and i had to leave the thing for a couple of hours.
not ideal.
came back to it and realised that it was a million miles from what i usually like to write/read.
it's weird where these things come from when you're flashing - if i'd thought about it at all, i can't see me ever writing those characters, pl0t events, that voice.
but that's what was there, and i managed to finish it off in about another twenty minutes.
also managed to crit four other flashes, but only managed tto post one before real life got in the way again.
still, two nights, two passable if not publishable flashes, over two thousand words written.
as a start, it'll do...
but there's subs to think about, there's primaries on friday, then the blast proper starts at the weekend.
but that's the secret, i think.
never stop.
Prompts for 1800 and 2000 Wednesday
They are dancing in Tescos
VW
By now I bet he'd dead, which suits me fine
ABC
He wanted to make us take notice
VC
They are dancing on the tops of cars
XYZ
Two fat girls in tight pants
BBC
The fourth oldest profession
The father gets a bullet in the eye
Sweet Earth
VD
I look at you sleeping
Our trust in art
The moon, bright orange
STD
A man eats a chicken
PARTY!
The green way to cook a pig
White thighs like slabs of lard
He was depressed, so built a bomb
When all the leaves are old
Tread softly, softly
The Man Who Knew Too Much
In order to forgive we must first know
On emerging from a dark tunnel
India, Iraq, Indonesia, Idaho
VW
By now I bet he'd dead, which suits me fine
ABC
He wanted to make us take notice
VC
They are dancing on the tops of cars
XYZ
Two fat girls in tight pants
BBC
The fourth oldest profession
The father gets a bullet in the eye
Sweet Earth
VD
I look at you sleeping
Our trust in art
The moon, bright orange
STD
A man eats a chicken
PARTY!
The green way to cook a pig
White thighs like slabs of lard
He was depressed, so built a bomb
When all the leaves are old
Tread softly, softly
The Man Who Knew Too Much
In order to forgive we must first know
On emerging from a dark tunnel
India, Iraq, Indonesia, Idaho
Wednesday 02 11:00 prompts
Two trees
I watch with my daughter
Hard, heavy, slow, dark
It's snowing down south
It's hard to believe these guys
Must Have TV
Like in a trick mirror
Allesandro the Grape
You see them in bars, eating ice-cream
Blue Sky to the North
Once more I think of you
How to inflate a rock
The boy waits on the top step
A chunk of brown bread
Being Alive
Chicken sandwich with mayonaisse
I watch with my daughter
Hard, heavy, slow, dark
It's snowing down south
It's hard to believe these guys
Must Have TV
Like in a trick mirror
Allesandro the Grape
You see them in bars, eating ice-cream
Blue Sky to the North
Once more I think of you
How to inflate a rock
The boy waits on the top step
A chunk of brown bread
Being Alive
Chicken sandwich with mayonaisse
Wednesday 01 08:00
Four men in orange uniforms, a suit
In the back of a garbage truck
Six blind women
Brutal lips, a slash across the face
It's not a fancy restaurant
Last night I dreamt I was in Vladivostok
That act of love lies somewhere between the belly and the mind
My friends Howie and Francine
In a past life I believed in reincarnation, but now I don't
Woman in a red, red dress
Knock at the door
He was big alongside me, like a ship in dock
Pickpocket
There is no sky today
One morning my father went down the icy stairs
Flowers, red lilies, roses, scarlet petunia
Love is apart from all things else
In the back of a garbage truck
Six blind women
Brutal lips, a slash across the face
It's not a fancy restaurant
Last night I dreamt I was in Vladivostok
That act of love lies somewhere between the belly and the mind
My friends Howie and Francine
In a past life I believed in reincarnation, but now I don't
Woman in a red, red dress
Knock at the door
He was big alongside me, like a ship in dock
Pickpocket
There is no sky today
One morning my father went down the icy stairs
Flowers, red lilies, roses, scarlet petunia
Love is apart from all things else
Tuesday, 26 June 2007
Prompts for Ten PM
Dressed for death, and smiling
There is no greater crime than leaving
The Unit
Plastic Coffins, Perspex Windows
You've been a long time making up your mind
As the evening light congeals
I have learned about dying from looking at pictures
HAMMER
The Hostage Reunion
DRILL
I wait in a dive on 52nd street
Pretend You Love
The smell of dead children
SCREW
All I have is my voice
NAIL
I am standing here inside my skin
Picking though debris
Fox, gravel, stink
We are now at peace
Hate them all, hate is good
Down to the seventh level
Night beasts in a winter field
There is no greater crime than leaving
The Unit
Plastic Coffins, Perspex Windows
You've been a long time making up your mind
As the evening light congeals
I have learned about dying from looking at pictures
HAMMER
The Hostage Reunion
DRILL
I wait in a dive on 52nd street
Pretend You Love
The smell of dead children
SCREW
All I have is my voice
NAIL
I am standing here inside my skin
Picking though debris
Fox, gravel, stink
We are now at peace
Hate them all, hate is good
Down to the seventh level
Night beasts in a winter field
eight o clock prompts
shine so bright
i'd like that million dollars
my love lives in the balance
early days, late nights
she fills the spaces
it's not the liquor i miss
a history of lovers who have been here before
cat's eyes trance
silence, and the kettle
hand-picked here and now
i'd like that million dollars
my love lives in the balance
early days, late nights
she fills the spaces
it's not the liquor i miss
a history of lovers who have been here before
cat's eyes trance
silence, and the kettle
hand-picked here and now
Tuesday Afternoon/Evening Prompt Set
Posted at 16:25 but for the 6PM slot.
Whenever you look, you get a max of 90 minutes to flash
No, that's a special connection
Where an honest river runs
Behind a dirty window
I am grass
Who sold you this, then?
Of stone and harsh wind
If you didn't come from your country
Pile the bodies high, paint them white
The janitor disturbed some wasps
She rubbed her legs together as she sat on a disembowelled horse
The lovers disappeared
And voices, lifting
I love Gerry Adams, Saddam Hussein
A Squad of Mothers, prams
I sometimes lie, or bend the truth
I did not choose to be (Welsh)
Whenever you look, you get a max of 90 minutes to flash
No, that's a special connection
Where an honest river runs
Behind a dirty window
I am grass
Who sold you this, then?
Of stone and harsh wind
If you didn't come from your country
Pile the bodies high, paint them white
The janitor disturbed some wasps
She rubbed her legs together as she sat on a disembowelled horse
The lovers disappeared
And voices, lifting
I love Gerry Adams, Saddam Hussein
A Squad of Mothers, prams
I sometimes lie, or bend the truth
I did not choose to be (Welsh)
Slow Start
I's just as well we chose to "warm-up" for a week before the July Blast
Two weeks away for me and Boot Camp got quiet.
Now getting it going again is like trying to move an oil tanker with oars.
3 Flashes and two poems so far.
Let's hope it gets a little better.
alx
Two weeks away for me and Boot Camp got quiet.
Now getting it going again is like trying to move an oil tanker with oars.
3 Flashes and two poems so far.
Let's hope it gets a little better.
alx
Tuesday Prompts 02
11:25
Here they are. The soft eyes open.
The man on the bench in the barn
The Ghost Road
Ambiguity
All the flowers, black
The Sixpenny Show
Wow, I said, I'd love a Big Mac
253
Haunted
Before I knew there were men
24
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota
19
Strange Lolayties
Zanzibar
For all the horses butcherd on the battlefield
Skunk
A cool small evening, shrinking with rain
A snail on my window
Suddenly he is at the centre of a cone of white light
Ideas of Home
PARIS
Here they are. The soft eyes open.
The man on the bench in the barn
The Ghost Road
Ambiguity
All the flowers, black
The Sixpenny Show
Wow, I said, I'd love a Big Mac
253
Haunted
Before I knew there were men
24
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota
19
Strange Lolayties
Zanzibar
For all the horses butcherd on the battlefield
Skunk
A cool small evening, shrinking with rain
A snail on my window
Suddenly he is at the centre of a cone of white light
Ideas of Home
PARIS
Tuesday Prompts 01
and sang the sun in flight
we should have been galloping on horses
are you dreaming of what is lost?
sunflowers outside the window
hauling in lobsters pots, sun gleaming
my brother is here, my sister
stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
The stars are not wanted now
things move
pity the drunks, the old, the dead
the art of blood on snow
she wrote her notes, then blocked the door
Moondust
Little Children
we should have been galloping on horses
are you dreaming of what is lost?
sunflowers outside the window
hauling in lobsters pots, sun gleaming
my brother is here, my sister
stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
The stars are not wanted now
things move
pity the drunks, the old, the dead
the art of blood on snow
she wrote her notes, then blocked the door
Moondust
Little Children
Monday, 25 June 2007
als on the pre-blast blast
thought i'd put down a few words each night (or most nights) as we go through the balst (and the pre blast)
a few people are up for flashes and poems in preparation for July's blast.
good.
i was determined to get something done, and managed to fit somethign in around various life things tonight. 1000+ words of a flash - used the prompts posted, but in the end only included maybe two of them. i usually prefer it when the story starts to eat up all the prompts on the page, almost without me trying. that didn;t happen tonight.
the story isn;t great. ,it's probably not even subbable. but that's not the point. not for this pre-blast, anyway.
the point is to get used to forcing myself to sit down, write something - anything - every night.
and i managed that, at least.
i even started another piece, a poem. didn;t finish because life got in the way again, but i got a couple of stanzas down, and i'll come back to it.
managed to crit the other flash that someone had managed today as well.
it was much better than mine.
so, a partial, limited, tenuous success.
but that's ok.
i wrote one and a half pieces, over a thousand words. and i wouldn't have done that otherwise.
a few people are up for flashes and poems in preparation for July's blast.
good.
i was determined to get something done, and managed to fit somethign in around various life things tonight. 1000+ words of a flash - used the prompts posted, but in the end only included maybe two of them. i usually prefer it when the story starts to eat up all the prompts on the page, almost without me trying. that didn;t happen tonight.
the story isn;t great. ,it's probably not even subbable. but that's not the point. not for this pre-blast, anyway.
the point is to get used to forcing myself to sit down, write something - anything - every night.
and i managed that, at least.
i even started another piece, a poem. didn;t finish because life got in the way again, but i got a couple of stanzas down, and i'll come back to it.
managed to crit the other flash that someone had managed today as well.
it was much better than mine.
so, a partial, limited, tenuous success.
but that's ok.
i wrote one and a half pieces, over a thousand words. and i wouldn't have done that otherwise.
more flash prompts
in case you need any more!
crumbliest, flakiest
brother's on his way
no one wants the job
informed and anxious
controlled and crying
escher block
the corner of helium and green
sandals, size nine
where's the duck when you need it?
one day in, too many to go
crumbliest, flakiest
brother's on his way
no one wants the job
informed and anxious
controlled and crying
escher block
the corner of helium and green
sandals, size nine
where's the duck when you need it?
one day in, too many to go
Flash Prompts 04
at 20:00
Life Support
Out of the Silent Planet
Enter the Dragon
The Kleenex Monopoly
Woman with pitchfork
Potato Digging
Mother Theresa versus Father Brown
The long, slow ache of living with you
The Pride of Lions
Mutual Backscratching
Flashes can be sent by Blasters to me or to Alex for anon posting.
Life Support
Out of the Silent Planet
Enter the Dragon
The Kleenex Monopoly
Woman with pitchfork
Potato Digging
Mother Theresa versus Father Brown
The long, slow ache of living with you
The Pride of Lions
Mutual Backscratching
Flashes can be sent by Blasters to me or to Alex for anon posting.
Flash Prompts 03
18:30 prompts posted on Boot Camp by MP
Panzerman, the valley of ashes
The Hotel
White Van Man Returns From the Dead
My Brother is Out of Bed Today
Seventeen Ways to Advertise
The man who fixed the World Series
The Four Till Ten Shift
The Black Cloud
Gently, Gently Down the Stream
Simply not good enough
The Invoice
Bluetooth and Other Bastards
Swimming to the Azores
Panzerman, the valley of ashes
The Hotel
White Van Man Returns From the Dead
My Brother is Out of Bed Today
Seventeen Ways to Advertise
The man who fixed the World Series
The Four Till Ten Shift
The Black Cloud
Gently, Gently Down the Stream
Simply not good enough
The Invoice
Bluetooth and Other Bastards
Swimming to the Azores
Flash Prompts 02
Midday Prompts
A catastrophic kiss
A drum taps
A week without a moon
All catches alight
and again by the Saturday boat.
and boarding in rooms.
Flags
My wife shook the hand of the pickpocket
She let him tie the black silk over her eyes
Small cheap mirrors with MADE IN TUNISIA written on the back
Driving to the airport along a glittering highway
South of
Number Twenty-One
and I have calculated that absolutely nothing would be saved
as it may become very difficult and precarious
At present I am particularly concerned
by sub-letting the flat (furnished)
For the heart to be loveless
for the Wednesday boat
from America to England.
I am sick for want of sleep
Breaking and Entering
Against
Refreshment
Red Nose
Please Can I Have a Chicken?
A day like any other day
In the corner of the kitchen
My brother's room
My father carries me across a field
Why I Don't Live at the post office
A catastrophic kiss
A drum taps
A week without a moon
All catches alight
and again by the Saturday boat.
and boarding in rooms.
Flags
My wife shook the hand of the pickpocket
She let him tie the black silk over her eyes
Small cheap mirrors with MADE IN TUNISIA written on the back
Driving to the airport along a glittering highway
South of
Number Twenty-One
and I have calculated that absolutely nothing would be saved
as it may become very difficult and precarious
At present I am particularly concerned
by sub-letting the flat (furnished)
For the heart to be loveless
for the Wednesday boat
from America to England.
I am sick for want of sleep
Breaking and Entering
Against
Refreshment
Red Nose
Please Can I Have a Chicken?
A day like any other day
In the corner of the kitchen
My brother's room
My father carries me across a field
Why I Don't Live at the post office
Flash Prompts 01
Use one or more of the prompts below, either directly, or indirectly (as inspiration) to produce a flash. Ideal time-to-write is 45-75 minutes, but if a longer story evolves, then write it. record your time for first draft and add it (and prompts) after the story, below word-count
PROMPTS
Carnevale
Every day I am new
The Unit
Jump off, stand there and gaze
Six Feet Under
and newspapers from vacant lots
The West Wing
the frozen daquiris, talk, smoke
It's not that I'm saying
lay your warm and gentle body next to mine
Who cares what they say of you? You're dead!
Parting is all we know of Heaven
I like you more than I would like; to have a cigarette
Somwhere in clouds
My little pony must think me queer
A Khan or two, a traveller
Axe
When I am even older, I will wear Lycra
An onion, hello?
Does the road wind uphill all the way?
Something stinks in the car
Sad, Dad and hopeless to know
PROMPTS
Carnevale
Every day I am new
The Unit
Jump off, stand there and gaze
Six Feet Under
and newspapers from vacant lots
The West Wing
the frozen daquiris, talk, smoke
It's not that I'm saying
lay your warm and gentle body next to mine
Who cares what they say of you? You're dead!
Parting is all we know of Heaven
I like you more than I would like; to have a cigarette
Somwhere in clouds
My little pony must think me queer
A Khan or two, a traveller
Axe
When I am even older, I will wear Lycra
An onion, hello?
Does the road wind uphill all the way?
Something stinks in the car
Sad, Dad and hopeless to know
A Few Days to Warm-Up for the July Blast
News on the Blast
The excellent Eclectica Magazine will be taking a selection of Blast stories.
This week we are warming up with regular flash prompts and a writing-subs blast.
alx
The excellent Eclectica Magazine will be taking a selection of Blast stories.
This week we are warming up with regular flash prompts and a writing-subs blast.
alx
Sunday, 24 June 2007
als on a bad month, and keeping going
in terms of writing, this has been a bad month.
i've managed a story a week for primaries, weird range of scores as well, totally not what i expected - some 80s and some (well, one) 110s.
all three of these stories have been forced out with a deadline looming, and in all three cases i thought they were awful.
i've managed a couple of poems as well, and i'm starting to enjoy the process of writing a poem. but again, i'm far from happy with the finished things. at thirty-six, i still don;t know how to write a poem like i didn;t know how to write a poem at sixteen.
subs are down too. i've managed three subs. that's poor. i had a target of ten, and i've got a target of twenty for the july blast. so three, that's just not going to cut it.
i had a hit early on this month, low level ezine. buoyed me up for a few days. it got published straight off, then i had a poem published in a small print mag, so again - a little feel good factor. but they're low level things. just enough to keep things ticking over, but nothing more than that.
also, i've got some stuff out there that i'm starting to fret about - waiting on the results, hoping for a biggish hit. i hate that. i want to just send stuff out and forget about it, let the hit be a surprise.
worst of all is the word count. i'm at less than 7000 for the month i think. rubbish.
so ,blah blah blah, the point of my miserable little rant is this:
keep going.
a bad month's a bad month, and I can feel sorry for myself all i want. but there's a blast coming up. i can either give up, or get my head down, squeeze out some words, get the juices going by DOING not by wondering why i'm uninspired.
managed a poem today. also, read quite a bit. critted three stories.
keeping going...
the story i forced out for primaries, which i came so close to not posting 'cos i thought it was so awful is actually not being totally trashed.
keeping going...
i've got almost twenty pieces floating around, subbed here and there, one of them is bound to hit.
keeping going...
i'm thinking about doing the 'page a day' thing on a novel, just to see.
keeping going...
so if there's anyone else reading this who's having a bad month writing wise, i sympathise, empathise.
but keep going.
a really bad month is the one where you stop writing for good.
i've managed a story a week for primaries, weird range of scores as well, totally not what i expected - some 80s and some (well, one) 110s.
all three of these stories have been forced out with a deadline looming, and in all three cases i thought they were awful.
i've managed a couple of poems as well, and i'm starting to enjoy the process of writing a poem. but again, i'm far from happy with the finished things. at thirty-six, i still don;t know how to write a poem like i didn;t know how to write a poem at sixteen.
subs are down too. i've managed three subs. that's poor. i had a target of ten, and i've got a target of twenty for the july blast. so three, that's just not going to cut it.
i had a hit early on this month, low level ezine. buoyed me up for a few days. it got published straight off, then i had a poem published in a small print mag, so again - a little feel good factor. but they're low level things. just enough to keep things ticking over, but nothing more than that.
also, i've got some stuff out there that i'm starting to fret about - waiting on the results, hoping for a biggish hit. i hate that. i want to just send stuff out and forget about it, let the hit be a surprise.
worst of all is the word count. i'm at less than 7000 for the month i think. rubbish.
so ,blah blah blah, the point of my miserable little rant is this:
keep going.
a bad month's a bad month, and I can feel sorry for myself all i want. but there's a blast coming up. i can either give up, or get my head down, squeeze out some words, get the juices going by DOING not by wondering why i'm uninspired.
managed a poem today. also, read quite a bit. critted three stories.
keeping going...
the story i forced out for primaries, which i came so close to not posting 'cos i thought it was so awful is actually not being totally trashed.
keeping going...
i've got almost twenty pieces floating around, subbed here and there, one of them is bound to hit.
keeping going...
i'm thinking about doing the 'page a day' thing on a novel, just to see.
keeping going...
so if there's anyone else reading this who's having a bad month writing wise, i sympathise, empathise.
but keep going.
a really bad month is the one where you stop writing for good.
Wednesday, 20 June 2007
The BC July Blast
We had a "blast" in July 2006 where most of the members went on a writing spree, flashes, stories, a few poems, and a greta effort to submit asap.
The productivity during blasts is amazing, and the quantity is not at the expense of quality. Hit rates RISE. There's something about the energy, the pressure, the community drive that seems to inspire everybody.
We will be posting a set of flash prompts Weekdays at
06:00
07:55
13:00
18:00
20:00
22:00
On the weekends we will post prompts at
08:00
11:00
14:00
17:00
20:00
Each of us will set himself a personal target for the month, word-coun, number of flashes, number of stories, subs.
We will tie up with a good-quality ezine : in the past this has been Eclectica Magazine and all flashes will get brief feedback in BC.
In the past these "blasts" have been joined by a few non-Boot Campers.
If you are interested post a comment here (they go via moderation)
alx
The productivity during blasts is amazing, and the quantity is not at the expense of quality. Hit rates RISE. There's something about the energy, the pressure, the community drive that seems to inspire everybody.
We will be posting a set of flash prompts Weekdays at
06:00
07:55
13:00
18:00
20:00
22:00
On the weekends we will post prompts at
08:00
11:00
14:00
17:00
20:00
Each of us will set himself a personal target for the month, word-coun, number of flashes, number of stories, subs.
We will tie up with a good-quality ezine : in the past this has been Eclectica Magazine and all flashes will get brief feedback in BC.
In the past these "blasts" have been joined by a few non-Boot Campers.
If you are interested post a comment here (they go via moderation)
alx
Wednesday Prompts
That's why the warning light comes on
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition
Once again I have missed you by moments
The sound of one hand slapping
Which reminds me
General Studies, Upper Sixth, a Doddle
White-faced soldiers
Playing leapfrog
But he did for them all with his plan of attack
Driving Back
Re-inventing the telescope
How wind will always find the cracks
Time, Water
Tommy won't eat his broccoli
Or you may wish to read more widely
This examination may be terminal
I am waiting in the shadows at the dark end of a lonely street
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition
Once again I have missed you by moments
The sound of one hand slapping
Which reminds me
General Studies, Upper Sixth, a Doddle
White-faced soldiers
Playing leapfrog
But he did for them all with his plan of attack
Driving Back
Re-inventing the telescope
How wind will always find the cracks
Time, Water
Tommy won't eat his broccoli
Or you may wish to read more widely
This examination may be terminal
I am waiting in the shadows at the dark end of a lonely street
Tuesday, 19 June 2007
100
And the 100th is reached.
BB gets 99, and AK himself makes the hit that takes us into three figures for 2007.
Roll on 200, some time in late October, I'd guess...
BB gets 99, and AK himself makes the hit that takes us into three figures for 2007.
Roll on 200, some time in late October, I'd guess...
Wednesday, 13 June 2007
98! 99? 100?
TomC records our 98th hit of the year with an acceptance at Defenestration.
Roll on Numbers 99 and 100
Roll on Numbers 99 and 100
Monday, 11 June 2007
Monday Prompts
From somewhere, the sound of dancing
No blood is flowing, just red birds
Hitler was a British Agent
As if a fire was flickering gently
They bring us crushed fingers
Pigeons
A thousand years ago, the angels say
She climbed to the third floor
Her last words wandered across the ceiling
She glanced up from her creaking rocking-chair
The children work hard
Your return is overdue
Day has cast anchor in the shadows
I have heard the sobbing of angels
Two thousand cigarettes
Now I will change water into wine
A lady lonely as a rat
Birdcages flew open
No fiery writing on the wall
Mad New Zealanders
Above the fields the wires hissed like iguanas
In the name of the father, the son and the holy bank.
No blood is flowing, just red birds
Hitler was a British Agent
As if a fire was flickering gently
They bring us crushed fingers
Pigeons
A thousand years ago, the angels say
She climbed to the third floor
Her last words wandered across the ceiling
She glanced up from her creaking rocking-chair
The children work hard
Your return is overdue
Day has cast anchor in the shadows
I have heard the sobbing of angels
Two thousand cigarettes
Now I will change water into wine
A lady lonely as a rat
Birdcages flew open
No fiery writing on the wall
Mad New Zealanders
Above the fields the wires hissed like iguanas
In the name of the father, the son and the holy bank.
Sunday, 10 June 2007
Sunday prompts
They had made love earlier, in the big high bed
Paris from my window
Looking over the polaroids
Once upon a time there was sex and death
About New York
Two for the price of three
In the spaces between the parrots and the fruit trees
I open my skull to your gaze
In my dream my brother gave away a screenplay
The Life & Death of a Pork Chop
Maybe one day I'll have three children, one of each
I said, "Look, this is my house."
The Empire of Child
Your body, I remember, stained my big cream bed
What My Dad Thought of Church
Grey on Grey, Black Upon Black
My mother is downstairs with a saxophone player
Paris from my window
Looking over the polaroids
Once upon a time there was sex and death
About New York
Two for the price of three
In the spaces between the parrots and the fruit trees
I open my skull to your gaze
In my dream my brother gave away a screenplay
The Life & Death of a Pork Chop
Maybe one day I'll have three children, one of each
I said, "Look, this is my house."
The Empire of Child
Your body, I remember, stained my big cream bed
What My Dad Thought of Church
Grey on Grey, Black Upon Black
My mother is downstairs with a saxophone player
Saturday, 9 June 2007
Back? Well, sort of...
I got ahead wordcount-wise last month, and boy do I need that start.
I need to find 25,500 words this month and my brain is mush. I have the head-sensation of a hangover (but not drinking) and I'm completely out of ideas (and not in the mood.) A ton of paperwork, too and a fair few rejections were in the post. Joy!
My head is simply not right, so in all probability I'll crack on with all the domestic, non-writing stuff today and Sunday, then hope to hit the writing hard come Monday.
Trouble is that will be 11th, leaving 19 days (if I don't miss 1-2) to write that 25,500. Plus I have a 4K Open University Essay to write by the 21st and then another due around July 20th
But there again that's just 1,500 words a day. is that so hard?
Looking at Boot Camp hits this year it's interesting how we have stepped up the paper/web ratio to almost exactly 50%. There are a few exceptions, (both ways) but generally paper is a tougher market. I know 2-3 BCers are aiming higher this year and the higher you aim the slower the hits come, but that's a necessary part of upping your game.
Anyway, right now getting that 30K this month looks and feels like a toughie. If I miss out, it's good to remember that I have already written 93K in 3 months
alx
I need to find 25,500 words this month and my brain is mush. I have the head-sensation of a hangover (but not drinking) and I'm completely out of ideas (and not in the mood.) A ton of paperwork, too and a fair few rejections were in the post. Joy!
My head is simply not right, so in all probability I'll crack on with all the domestic, non-writing stuff today and Sunday, then hope to hit the writing hard come Monday.
Trouble is that will be 11th, leaving 19 days (if I don't miss 1-2) to write that 25,500. Plus I have a 4K Open University Essay to write by the 21st and then another due around July 20th
But there again that's just 1,500 words a day. is that so hard?
Looking at Boot Camp hits this year it's interesting how we have stepped up the paper/web ratio to almost exactly 50%. There are a few exceptions, (both ways) but generally paper is a tougher market. I know 2-3 BCers are aiming higher this year and the higher you aim the slower the hits come, but that's a necessary part of upping your game.
Anyway, right now getting that 30K this month looks and feels like a toughie. If I miss out, it's good to remember that I have already written 93K in 3 months
alx
Catch Up 2 - Some Prompts
Break, Blow, Burn
We left before I had time
A Life in Litters
Spineless and eyeless we spend our days
In Defence of the Bastards
A wooden table, a vase of flowers
Number One in Heaven
It seemed the obvious place to go
The Odd Tunnel in Paris
Too pale for these cloud-breached days
Panning for Gold
You ask what I think of your new acquisition?
A Viking Writes Home
From the Direktor Domestic & General Functions
Tell me I'm beautiful, bring me flowers
I came at night to the dark house
The same scene fifty times
Toute-suite or Double-Quick?
We left before I had time
A Life in Litters
Spineless and eyeless we spend our days
In Defence of the Bastards
A wooden table, a vase of flowers
Number One in Heaven
It seemed the obvious place to go
The Odd Tunnel in Paris
Too pale for these cloud-breached days
Panning for Gold
You ask what I think of your new acquisition?
A Viking Writes Home
From the Direktor Domestic & General Functions
Tell me I'm beautiful, bring me flowers
I came at night to the dark house
The same scene fifty times
Toute-suite or Double-Quick?
Starting to Catch Up
08 BC Stories while I was away
10-25 (Crits-Discussion Posts)
09-10
08-63
08-37
08-19
08-13
08-10
08-09
67 Full Critiques (08.38 Average)
186 Discussion Posts (23.25 Average)
05 Stories in today's primaries (14-21 so far)
=======================================
Up to 97 Hits for the year.
Most recent
JUNE
091 TomC story in Ballista (Print)
092 Alex places collection at Salt (Print)
093 Jason Jackson places at six sentences
094 NW places at six sentences
095 Tom places at Underground Voices $30
096 Amy places at six sentences
097 Jason Jackson places at Smokelong
14 Members placed in 2007
02 Members unplaced
05 New members (unplaced)
2007 Publications Update
2007 PUBLICATIONS
January
001 Alex - The Internet Writing Journal - "The Long & the Short Of It"
002 Cedric - Eclectica - "Killing Bulls"
003 MJH - Eclectica - "Geoff Says Farewell"
004 Kenneth Shand - Eclectica - "Ramirez"
005 Cedric - Eclectica - "The Year of the Card Player"
006 MJH - Eclectica - "The Undressing of Ursula"
007 Caroline - Poetry Monthly "Snowdrops" paper
008 Alex - Poetry Monthly "On Greenham III" Paper
009 Alex - Southern Ocean Review "The Ghost in the Latrine" Paper/Web
010 Tom - article at Johnny America
011 Lexie - lead story in Earlyworks paper anthology
012 Chrissie - "Mummy Says" in QWF (Print Journal)
013 Jason Jackson in Scottish Print Mag "Raw"
014 TomC in American Drivel (Paper Mag)
015 Caroline in February Poetry Monthly (Print)
016 Cally published by Espresso Fiction ($30)
017 Lee published at Sussuruss
018 Cally in Slingink Anthology (paper
019 TomC in Sligink Anthology (paper)
020 TomC at Peccary (webzine)
021 Colin First Prize-Winner published at Cadenza (Paper)
022 Caroline, two poems in "Seventh Quarry" ("one pub")
023 TomC article at Johnny America (web)
024 Nightwriter at Flashquake
025 Tom C at Laughter Loaf
026 Colin at Heavyglow
027 Alex in Poetry Monthly
028 Caroline in Poetry Monthly
029 Cally at Chick Flicks
030 CLT at Smokebox
031 Tom at Glass Fire
032 TomC podcast at Bound Off
033 Alex at LitBits
034 TomC at LitBits
035 Alex in Gold Dust
036 JJ in Pen Pusher
037 Caroline, two poems in Southern Ocean Review
038 Jason Jackson in Poetry Monthly
039 Lexie in H E Bates Anthology (1)
040 Lexie in H E Bates Anthology (2)
041 CLT in Word Riot
042 Alex in Espresso Fiction ($30)
043 Tom in Transmission (Print)
044 JPM in Thieves Jargon
Individual Totals (Web-Paper-Total)
007-003-010 Tom
003-004-007 Alex
001-005-006 Caroline
001-004-005 Colin
002-001-003 Cally
003-000-003 MJH
002-000-002 Cedric
001-000-001 Kenneth
000-002-003 Lexie
000-001-001 Chrissie
001-000-001 Lee
002-000-001 Claire
023-021-044 TOTAL
10-25 (Crits-Discussion Posts)
09-10
08-63
08-37
08-19
08-13
08-10
08-09
67 Full Critiques (08.38 Average)
186 Discussion Posts (23.25 Average)
05 Stories in today's primaries (14-21 so far)
=======================================
Up to 97 Hits for the year.
Most recent
JUNE
091 TomC story in Ballista (Print)
092 Alex places collection at Salt (Print)
093 Jason Jackson places at six sentences
094 NW places at six sentences
095 Tom places at Underground Voices $30
096 Amy places at six sentences
097 Jason Jackson places at Smokelong
14 Members placed in 2007
02 Members unplaced
05 New members (unplaced)
2007 Publications Update
2007 PUBLICATIONS
January
001 Alex - The Internet Writing Journal - "The Long & the Short Of It"
002 Cedric - Eclectica - "Killing Bulls"
003 MJH - Eclectica - "Geoff Says Farewell"
004 Kenneth Shand - Eclectica - "Ramirez"
005 Cedric - Eclectica - "The Year of the Card Player"
006 MJH - Eclectica - "The Undressing of Ursula"
007 Caroline - Poetry Monthly "Snowdrops" paper
008 Alex - Poetry Monthly "On Greenham III" Paper
009 Alex - Southern Ocean Review "The Ghost in the Latrine" Paper/Web
010 Tom - article at Johnny America
011 Lexie - lead story in Earlyworks paper anthology
012 Chrissie - "Mummy Says" in QWF (Print Journal)
013 Jason Jackson in Scottish Print Mag "Raw"
014 TomC in American Drivel (Paper Mag)
015 Caroline in February Poetry Monthly (Print)
016 Cally published by Espresso Fiction ($30)
017 Lee published at Sussuruss
018 Cally in Slingink Anthology (paper
019 TomC in Sligink Anthology (paper)
020 TomC at Peccary (webzine)
021 Colin First Prize-Winner published at Cadenza (Paper)
022 Caroline, two poems in "Seventh Quarry" ("one pub")
023 TomC article at Johnny America (web)
024 Nightwriter at Flashquake
025 Tom C at Laughter Loaf
026 Colin at Heavyglow
027 Alex in Poetry Monthly
028 Caroline in Poetry Monthly
029 Cally at Chick Flicks
030 CLT at Smokebox
031 Tom at Glass Fire
032 TomC podcast at Bound Off
033 Alex at LitBits
034 TomC at LitBits
035 Alex in Gold Dust
036 JJ in Pen Pusher
037 Caroline, two poems in Southern Ocean Review
038 Jason Jackson in Poetry Monthly
039 Lexie in H E Bates Anthology (1)
040 Lexie in H E Bates Anthology (2)
041 CLT in Word Riot
042 Alex in Espresso Fiction ($30)
043 Tom in Transmission (Print)
044 JPM in Thieves Jargon
Individual Totals (Web-Paper-Total)
007-003-010 Tom
003-004-007 Alex
001-005-006 Caroline
001-004-005 Colin
002-001-003 Cally
003-000-003 MJH
002-000-002 Cedric
001-000-001 Kenneth
000-002-003 Lexie
000-001-001 Chrissie
001-000-001 Lee
002-000-001 Claire
023-021-044 TOTAL
Friday, 8 June 2007
Three More Hits for Boot Camp!
A few hits to record:
"Angharad Honeybill" at Six Sentences
TomC accepted at at Underground Voices and gets $30
Jason Jackson accepted at Smokelong, somewhere I've never cracked
BC now on 97 Hits for the year
"Angharad Honeybill" at Six Sentences
TomC accepted at at Underground Voices and gets $30
Jason Jackson accepted at Smokelong, somewhere I've never cracked
BC now on 97 Hits for the year
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
Monday, 4 June 2007
Monday Morning Prompts
Failed Electrics
The Night of Execution
How to be a Domestic God
The Last Roman
Chalk Circles
Free my fingers
Smashing Butternut Squash
The Wasting Game
Moth Kisses
Understanding Melissa
A glass of water from my well
Death is within
The Night of Execution
How to be a Domestic God
The Last Roman
Chalk Circles
Free my fingers
Smashing Butternut Squash
The Wasting Game
Moth Kisses
Understanding Melissa
A glass of water from my well
Death is within
Sunday, 3 June 2007
'als' on the imperative of words, every day
i just spent saturday to thursday away from home, away from the computer, away from the 'net.
away from writing
i took my notebook, but i was with the family, parents, my wife, my son, friends i haven't seen in a while...
i didn't write a thing
i got back on late thursday, logged on to bc, set my usual targets for the coming month, and thought - right, tomorrow, back to it
i still haven't written a word
you see, i've fallen out of the habit
already, after less than a week, that blank screen looks more impossible to fill than it has in months
i've tried a few times
i've typed words, phrases, sentences - and i've deleted everything
awful
i've fallen out of the habit of thinking - ok the first words might be god awful, but keep going, keep going, keep going, because something, eventually, will stick
so i did my usual putting-off-writing exercises. i flicked around ezines looking for somewhere to sub to. i did other life-things.
i was fine while i was away, because i knew i was 'on a break' but now, these last three days, i've been miserable
i know i have to write, and i can't seem to do it
and i also know that it'll pass, because i've been here before, and i've finally put some words down, got that story out, or that poem, or that flash, and it's usually rubbish, but then the next one is ok, then the next better...
so, what i have to do is stop waiting for that moment when the words come back, and just sit down and write
this is a start. posting here. getting it out. typing words.
but the whole point is i think that i'm in this mess to start with cos i had some days off, where i fell out of the habit, and now i can't get back
i know this doesn't work for everyone, but i still think that 'words every day' is the way to go. because then it just becomes a habit. it becomes natural. at the minute, sitting down and writing a story, a poem, whatever, feels like the most unnatural thing in the world. but once i've done it again, it won't.
i know that 'words every day' is difficult, at times impossible. but so is writing. and at least to try to write every day, that feels like something worthwhile to me.
away from writing
i took my notebook, but i was with the family, parents, my wife, my son, friends i haven't seen in a while...
i didn't write a thing
i got back on late thursday, logged on to bc, set my usual targets for the coming month, and thought - right, tomorrow, back to it
i still haven't written a word
you see, i've fallen out of the habit
already, after less than a week, that blank screen looks more impossible to fill than it has in months
i've tried a few times
i've typed words, phrases, sentences - and i've deleted everything
awful
i've fallen out of the habit of thinking - ok the first words might be god awful, but keep going, keep going, keep going, because something, eventually, will stick
so i did my usual putting-off-writing exercises. i flicked around ezines looking for somewhere to sub to. i did other life-things.
i was fine while i was away, because i knew i was 'on a break' but now, these last three days, i've been miserable
i know i have to write, and i can't seem to do it
and i also know that it'll pass, because i've been here before, and i've finally put some words down, got that story out, or that poem, or that flash, and it's usually rubbish, but then the next one is ok, then the next better...
so, what i have to do is stop waiting for that moment when the words come back, and just sit down and write
this is a start. posting here. getting it out. typing words.
but the whole point is i think that i'm in this mess to start with cos i had some days off, where i fell out of the habit, and now i can't get back
i know this doesn't work for everyone, but i still think that 'words every day' is the way to go. because then it just becomes a habit. it becomes natural. at the minute, sitting down and writing a story, a poem, whatever, feels like the most unnatural thing in the world. but once i've done it again, it won't.
i know that 'words every day' is difficult, at times impossible. but so is writing. and at least to try to write every day, that feels like something worthwhile to me.
Saturday, 2 June 2007
Prompts From the Sun
Me and Cilla
The Life & Death of a Wind-Surfer
The Many Differences Between 96 and 116
The God Delusion
Forth Degree Burns
Adrienne! I've Told You Before; If You Must Use a Broom, Use it on the floor
Why Margaret Didn't
It Came from the Lagoon
Life of Galileo
In a Window, a Television
Green Shorts, Cold Tea
Aloe Vera
Listening to Old Beatles Songs
Google "Two masks"
A train is out of control heading for ten children. You can divert the train and save the children but will kill two nice old men. Yes, No?
The Life & Death of a Wind-Surfer
The Many Differences Between 96 and 116
The God Delusion
Forth Degree Burns
Adrienne! I've Told You Before; If You Must Use a Broom, Use it on the floor
Why Margaret Didn't
It Came from the Lagoon
Life of Galileo
In a Window, a Television
Green Shorts, Cold Tea
Aloe Vera
Listening to Old Beatles Songs
Google "Two masks"
A train is out of control heading for ten children. You can divert the train and save the children but will kill two nice old men. Yes, No?
Subs Targets Met Again
I knew I'd be away for the last 8 days of May and we were a long way short of our monthly subs target when i left, but I'm happy to note that for the third month in succession the subs target has been met and exceded.
It takes 6-20 weeks for the effect of this subbing to show, but it will show!
Well done gang.
Alex
It takes 6-20 weeks for the effect of this subbing to show, but it will show!
Well done gang.
Alex
Friday, 1 June 2007
Prompts for June 1st
City Slackers
When I woke up I was in a forest
Touched by an Angel
Stares on the Bus
Windburn
Muscles I didn't know I had
The Mystery of the Poisoned Wedding Cake
Guts for Garters
Go away until your bones are clean
Bells on Her Toes
Don't let's talk about being in love, OK?
My mother's old leather handbag
Ronaldinho's Ponytail
When I woke up I was in a forest
Touched by an Angel
Stares on the Bus
Windburn
Muscles I didn't know I had
The Mystery of the Poisoned Wedding Cake
Guts for Garters
Go away until your bones are clean
Bells on Her Toes
Don't let's talk about being in love, OK?
My mother's old leather handbag
Ronaldinho's Ponytail
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