Postcards From Earth

Okay, it wasn’t the usual way to arrive on earth; we’d been doing it for millions of years without mishap. Didn’t the holiday brochures say ‘Have fun wherever you land, diverse climate, exotic food, challenging terrain’

 

It was Cousin Harvey that had suggested I went sight-seeing aboard the Gemini V. I played about with the re-entry system Georgia USSR sounded more interesting than Georgia USA, anyway I’d been to America twice before. The guys were great company so resisted the fresh meat and ate the flight pre-pack meals instead.

 

Hitting the water I nearly died of fright, didn’t my mother always say it was the Devil’s playground. Those frogmen did a great job saving us all, still a bit miffed about Gordon altering the destination, costing me more now to get back home. My holiday pics are sensational; if you look carefully you can see me bobbing about to the right of the good looking frogman. He looks tasty.    




I wrote this from a picture prompt of the Gemini V astronauts being picked up from their pod in the ocean.   http://t.co/lrmW763C5Q for Flash Friday Fiction.

My Writing Blog Tour

I was really amazed and thrilled to be tagged by Avalina Kreska and Imagine Ronin  in their 'My Writing Process Blogs' Up to now I've felt a bit uneasy about contributing. I've had Flash fiction published in several anthologies and had many encouraging comments on my short tales but I still don't really think of myself as a writer.




What I am working on
I have this grand idea that one day I will write a successful best selling novel, make loads of money and become famous :) The problem with this is I love writing Flash fiction, anything longer than 500 words terrifies me. Think its because I dart from one idea to another and easily gets bored with my own writing. I love reading other peoples novels more. I love writing from prompts so at the moment am contributing to The Angry Hourglass and Flash Friday both on Twitter. So on a Friday and Sunday I'm busy writing and submitting with fingers crossed that my tale will be chosen. I need to persuade myself that a novel is a lot of flashes joined together :)




How does my work differ from others of its genre
I'll let the Judge of last week's Angry Hourglass sum it up thanks David
"I read the tale through and knew it was a Stella classic. Loved the disarming first line. Laughed out loud at Mammy’s take on Dad’s gas. The emotions of the final paragraph were all the stronger for the light-hearted opening. Our narrator, I fear, did not have to wait too long before he’d be called to serve again. Stella’s strength is characterisation. We’ve been given memorable, familiar characters here – deftly wrought in a few pen strokes. The WW1 setting was also timely and I felt this was a fitting part of the centenary – like the best bits of a BBC drama condensed to their raw essence.

Why do I write what I write
Really have no idea why I write what I write, I don't plan it out it just arrives on the page. I've never thought of a beginning a middle and an end all at one time. I just have an idea that expends on the page as I'm writing.


How does my writing process work
Most of my time is spent at work or asleep :) so in the evenings I'll switch on my laptop which literally does sit on my lap and multi-task by watching TV and going from Twitter to Facebook to Twitter and if my eye is caught by a prompt I'll write. I'm hoping when I retire I'll have a plan to write in a more structured way.





Introduction to 3 other writers


Jackie Donnellan The other week I was Judge for The Angry Hourglass and the story that stood out for me was by Jackie. Her story 'I serve'  had a great first line, the story got straight to the point, the ending was funny and left me feeling satisfied. Lots of flashes leave me thinking what's all that about but Jackie's never do, read her story at http://t.co/czuSBcIxB6  See her page on Facebook at https://t.co/zAgVblzfLW






Imagine Ronin's  story last week on the Angry Hourglass was excellent, as much as I wanted mine to win, his story was miles better. Read it here http://t.co/zdd4WnpQ1n . I always look forward to scrolling down the numerous entries at Flash Friday to find his take on this week's prompt and then think why didn't I write that :) Read his blog at http://t.co/Tw8KfkJPeM




Sal Page has won Calderdale 2011 & Greenacre 2013 and been published on lots of online sites and won The Angry Hourglass with Sir Prance-a-lot, read it here http://t.co/lxoJyS1U87  She is a very good friend of mine and I've been very privileged to be asked to read the drafts of her two novels, both I enjoyed very much. Her stories are either moving, humorous or both. I'm always amazed where she gets her ideas from. Sal's blog is at http://t.co/vCz55Sdlca


These three writers have always been so supportive and encouraging not only to me but to other writers in the twitter community. We share each other successes and rejections with good heart. Long may we all put pen to paper. Can't remember the last time I've written anything longer than a shopping list by hand. I'm still in awe of cut and paste :) 
Thanks again Avalina and Imagine Ronin for choosing me as one of your 3 writers. Writer, Writer, Writer if I keep saying it I might get used to the idea that I'm a WRITER..... :)

Geo-writing

Most nights I'm woken by the whirling of the helicopter blades. A powerful light searches the gardens like a giant torch. Never sure what the Police are looking for. We've never had any drug dealers or burglars in Portslade Old Village. Our drug dealer is the local doctor who gives out Viagra and Prozac like sweeties. A nice young man in a dark suit who thinks we geriatrics should be happy and at it like rabbits. We sell them on to the middle aged; they are the ones that need happiness in their stale, barren lives. No final salary pensions for them to look forward to.

Doris, sleeps like the dead, her thigh warm to my touch, I can't hear her breathing I'm deaf. Sometimes that's a blessing. We've been together for 5 years. My wife upped and died and Doris started helping out and never went home. Not sure what nationality she is and what language she speaks but she smiles a lot. Sometimes I wonder if the light is searching for her. Where would they send her? Who would make my meals, scratch my back and sing me to sleep? I've come full circle like the rotating blades that fly overhead.




I wrote this last year for the Geo-Writing site. We were given a prompt about an area in Brighton. I have only spent 4 days in Brighton and that was to celebrate last years big birthday. Great city, vibrant and fun. Looking forward to this year's prompts. Wonder what ideas it will give me :)

-         See more at: http://www.geo-writing.com/writing.php#sthash.OLQxeKuG.dpuf

          

War, Conflict & Resolution

My story 'May Day' was published in the anthology War, Conflict and Resolution on August 15th 2014, a collection for all the soldiers, families and friends who were effected by World War 1. One hundred years on we still remember. Edited by Ryan Thacker & Alex Gallagher. I'm so pleased to be part of this very worthy cause as all profits will go to the Royal British Region. http://t.co/KJjNLo8HRu


I'm in WW1 mode at the moment as I submitted a story to The Angry Hourglass its about a young lad at the end of the war to end all wars based on a picture prompt of an old bike with the back wheel missing. Here is the link if anyone wants to read all the fantastic entries submitted this week.   http://t.co/BIN89XHQn4


This is also the beginning of the 3rd week that I'm trying to practise Mindfulness, to live in the moment not the past or the future. It struck a cord when I read that a good part of life is spent on auto pilot. So I'm following meditations and reading http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mindfulness-practical-guide-peace-frantic-ebook/dp/B004XCFJ3E/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1408297766&sr=1-1&keywords=mindfulness . Its an eight week course so in 6 weeks time I'll be reporting back :)

Has the World Gone Mad?

What a week, first of all it was National Flash Fiction Day on Saturday 21/6/14 and I submitted a story to The Write-In and it was published. Great examples of good flash fiction all day long on the Flash Flood http://t.co/47LM3jCUGm This one was by my good friend Sal Page http://t.co/m50LlNRanu


 Nose Clips by Stella Turner

The legs spun around without a ripple of water let alone a splash. Kitty and her friend Madge were always a bit weird with their big noses. Think it was because of those nose clips they wore. Dad always warned me that I was too forthright with the personal comments.
    “You’ll never get a lassie” he’d joke over the kitchen table. His accent still strong after all these years living down south. I’d been born a Sassenach. Something he’d never quite forgiven fate for. He’d come for work and when I was old enough took me down the pit with him. I loved swimming, the clear fresh water vying the black cloying coal dust. Water won every time.
     My mates and I spent every Saturday morning at the council swimming baths. For most of us it was the nearest we got to seeing the girls in their bathing suits and to have an innocent chat. If we ever got too near the life guard would blow his whistle and point of the sign on the wall. No running, no pushing, no ducking, no diving, no smoking, no petting.  
     Handing her a small bunch of flowers, she looked up at me, eyes expectant, all said and done she was used to this. After each of our four sons was born I’d hear my Dad’s words ringing in my ears. “You’ll never get a lassie”
     “Will she do?”
    “Aye Madge, she will”
     Breathing out a sigh of relief my daughter had perfect symmetrical features. I’d teach her to swim and to dive, no synchronised swimming. No one was going to say my girl had a big nose. 

                                                                  *                                                       

Then I heard I'd won this one

The Angry Hourglass  http://t.co/MtOYLlmzA3

Stella’s story takes a less-is-more approach, told in understatement and vivid details. Relatives gather at a  funeral, and confusion ensues. Even the eulogy could be for someone else. Poor Auntie Sheila!

 

                                       Your Round 25 FLASH MASTER is…

Stella

with The Final Resting Place

Stella wins for saying so much in so few words.  This story is less than 300 words! The narrator’s perspective, the vivid detail and family dynamic is just perfect.  The power of things unsaid. In a way, this is a classic take on the photo–the marker on a hill–a life, a funeral, the awful relatives,  etc.  but there is so much more!  The flowers are even more poignant. This hill on the moor is not Auntie Sheila’s  final resting place–or is this where her true spirit lingers?


                                                                     *          *         *


And I've tried very hard to get a mention on this American site. Each Friday they have lots of stories submitted 


FLASH FRIDAY  http://t.co/yADTszgdBJ


HONORABLE MENTIONS


StellakateT, “The Jewel.” This twisted Cinderella tale gave me no small amount of satisfaction at the end, when the writer reveals that the “homely” sister is the jewel of the family. I don’t know if she’s happy with her lot, but I felt as though she at least had some measure of retribution with the match.



I honestly thought in both Flash Friday and The Angry Hourglass there were better stories but its all subjective. A good job we all don't like the same thing as it would be a boring world for writers :) truly the World has gone mad, I'm beginning to think I might now be able to write Flash Fiction

 

Dead Ants Everywhere

Just posted on FINISH THAT THOUGHT http://alissaleonard.blogspot.com/2014/06/finish-that-thought-50.html … theme this week is Dead Ants everywhere :) I shouldn't say it but I really like this little story.

On The March 

Dead ants were everywhere but I was more perturbed by the living ones. I’d stopped swatting them off the kitchen counter, the ones that dared to transfer themselves on to my body were squashed with a scream, mine not theirs. It was an invasion, the march of a conquering army.  

I looked everywhere to find what was attracting them. No spilt sweet substances. They were coming from underneath the back door and heading straight up the kitchen cabinets and the live ones were disappearing into the corner of the internal wall. 

 

What was making them die on the journey? Where were they going? What was the purpose? Mum had always said I had a scientific brain and asked too many questions. Remembering the time I did a school project on Did Mothers always know best? My conclusion was no.

Where was Jake when you needed him? Out with his mates, drinks after work, I was an independent woman I’d solve this mystery without him. He wasn’t the best flatmate, when that huge tarantula ran across the floor he was standing on the sofa with me, screaming too.

 

Standing with the sledge hammer firmly in my left hand I began to hit the corner of the wall. I’d often wondered why Jake kept a hammer like this under the stairs. He’s such a puny little guy. My muscles are more honed than his. 

It didn’t take much strength to shatter the plaster board but it took all my strength not to pass out. The sunken eyes beseeched me, the bones of the skeleton rattled me, the ants were feasting on the remains of its flesh.

“So you’ve met Jolene?” 

I jumped at the sound of Jake’s gentle voice behind me. 

“I knew one day you’d get to meet her”

 

Cartwheels to Heaven

I wrote this last weekend to submit to The Angry Hourglass, its a great writing exercise to a picture prompt. In their words "you all have 36 hours to create your best work of up to 360 words (exclusive of title)" http://t.co/r2t8RcteoK It didn't win, mainly because the other entries were brilliant :)

Cartwheels to Heaven 

I can hear her running up and down the corridor singing those pop songs with really lewd lyrics that I’m hoping she doesn’t yet know what they mean. Sam, my husband wants me to go out and read her the riot act. He didn’t fight in the war to have to listen to all this noise. I want to say “no, you fought for her freedom” but the grumpy old sod wouldn’t appreciate that and I don’t want to hear any more of his complaints about the younger generation. 

I love to hear her. I love the way she cartwheels. I remember doing that years ago my dress falling over my face exposing my school knickers. Not realising our neighbour Mr Pickering was taking photos of me with his old Brownie. In his dark room he’d produce images to dispatch all over the county in plain brown envelopes. My Mammy nearly killed him when some distant cousin in County Kildare wrote her to ask if it was me. Mr Pickering walked with a limp for ages and I found his camera in tiny bits at the end of our garden by the composting bin. Shame really I would have liked to have taken photos of my own, the Fairies at the bottom of the garden, Bridie’s rabbit with all its babies, Sister Mary Evangeline’s beard. The last one makes me laugh out loud. Sam looks at me like I’ve gone mad, maybe I have. How can you be eighty years of age but still know how it feels to be a ten year old?  

I open the flat door and yell “Darcy” 

What a pretentious name to christen a child from this estate, although I’m sure she’s never had holy water anywhere near her.

“Yes Mrs Higgins” 

I hand her a fifty pence piece.  

“Mr Higgins wants you to have this, he loves hearing your singing” 

She smiles the smile of an angel. That’s what Sam fought for in the war to end all wars. 

Here are the kind words by the Judge about my story:

Stella offers a wonderful chance to re-evaluate the freedoms of childhood that should be enjoyed while they can. The examples of the bits of childhood the elderly character still wishes to have captured are sweet and vivid.

Realised its about the First World War again.