Friday Flash

It's Friday, it's a bank holiday weekend, so what better than a bit of flash fiction. This one's a bit of fun.



Pole dancing for beginners



It wasn’t that kind of pole dancing club.

Jeff knew as soon as he’d handed over his twenty pounds, crossed the hallway and entered the room. He’d been expecting scantily clad women writhing about. Maybe even naked. Since his divorce, he needed company, plus a little more. He’d seen the sign outside. Pole Dancing Tuesday Nights 8pm.

At first he wrote it off. Just sad old men getting their kicks from some stretchy strumpet. The more he thought about it, the more interested he became. The divorce had been messy. Sure, he missed female company, but could he trust anyone again? This seemed like a halfway house. He talked himself into it.
But now.

In front of him stood four couples. They were obviously from Poland. Their combined names would make a scrabble score of over a thousand. The men, dressed in dinner jackets and smart shoes held their right arm around their partner as they twirled and stepped to the sounds of the Glen Miller band.
They stopped, turned and looked at him.

“I think he is disappointed,” said one of the women. “Did you come here looking for something else?”

Jeff turned and fled. Reaching the door, he burst onto the street and didn’t stop until he reached his bedsit.


“That’s the tenth one tonight,” a female dancer said to her partner.
“Yeah. The twenty pounds just keep rolling in,” he replied.

141 Word Wednesday

It's a bit like Flash Fiction Friday, Six Sentence Sunday and New Chapter Chuesday. Except, it's Wednesday and it's 141 words long. Those of you who think I made up the name to match a 141 word story I've just written, may be right.


CSI Romford


They called him CSI Romford. He didn’t mind. He found it funny the first few times. It was just a playful nickname. Just their way of relieving tension. Crime scenes can get so depressing.

Pushing a small piece of fingernail into a plastic bag, he sighed. Another body. The tenth this month. This serial killer had everyone stumped. The finest detective brains this side of Barking were baffled. There were just no clues, no DNA. Nothing.
He slipped the plastic bag into his pocket. It was maybe the first piece of evidence the killer had left behind. This could have been the break through. But, it wouldn’t be. He’d get rid of it later. He made a mental note to take more care in future.

That was the best part of this job, you got to clean up your own mess.



I'm still writing. Seven Daze not only needs a new name (There's a few other books already with that name) but it's also nearly finished. I'm also submitting Too Big To Fail to agents, four rejections so far, one of them a nice personal one.

Update

Not posted for a while. There's no excuse for it, nothings coming into my head blog-wise. I've been writing off and on, Seven Daze is still coming along, nearly 70,000 words now. I've also started submitting Too Big To Fail to agents, though no bites so far. And, I've also dug out Spies, Lies and Pies and am giving it a little edit. I'm thinking about putting it on amazon as an e-book, though I keep changing my mind almost daily about whether it's a good idea or not.

That's about it really.

Querying

Okay, so it's time to query Too Big Too Fail.

Querying, if you didn't know, is a bit like asking a girl to dance at a school disco when you're twelve. You spend ages wondering what to say, even longer working out the correct order of words, and then, when you finally pluck up the courage to ask, you get either ignored, laughed at or on very rare occasions, invited to submit the first fifty pages.

Actually, thinking about it, kids these days probably ask each other for a dance by text or MSN or whatever.

So then, first draft.

Dear ....

I am seeking representation for my novel, Too Big To Fail.

What if the banks had been allowed to fail?

Rob, a small town newspaper reporter, watched first the banks collapse then the government and eventually the world's banking system. A mysterious overseas consortium's offer to bail out Britain left Rob wondering at what price. After printing his own paper telling the truth, the secret police track and capture him. Escaping after a lorry accident near a holding centre, Rob and four other detainees run for their lives.

Too Big To Fail follows Rob and his companion as they run night and day through the New Forest. Eventually recaptured, they're sent to a dissident holding centre where the consortium's real aims become clear. Determined to make a difference, the group combine their efforts and plan to fight back against the consortium.

etc

So, if this was a disco and you the person I was asking, would you say yes or would you tell all your mates then laugh at me for a month?

Answers on a postcard to...

Stuff to read

There's been some good stories of late up on various sites.

Julie Morgan's The Birthday Present on Thrillers, Killers and Chiller is funny, messy and probably true.

Keiran Shea on A Twist of Noir has a blinding little tale that, again is very believable.

Jim Wilsky's Big Cat is a damn good read, kept my attention all the way through

and

The Flash Fiction Offensive does what it does best with Erin Cole's tale of everyday life at a US burger bar.


Me? Yeah I'm writing, got over the 58,000 word hole. I'm waiting for an email though. One that may come by tomorrow. Fingers and everything else is crossed.

Lack of updates

Just an update to explain the lack of updates. Firstly, there's no real explanation. Real life just gets in the way sometimes.

Secondly, writing is going very slowly on all fronts. I'm up to about 52,000 words on Seven Daze, but it's becoming hard work. Haven't written a short story in months, but I've got ideas for two more books.

Thirdly Alibi have a new writing competition this year whereby the place the story is set must become a big part of the story. I'm thinking of entering, but the old mind's blank at the moment.

Lastly, is it fourthly or forthly? Neither look right to me.

6,000 Words a day.

No not me. I've been lucky to do 600 a day so far this year. It was on the news last night. A new book found in the papers of Enid Blyton that was apparently forgotten about. She used to write about 6,000 words a day, so it's not surprising a few stories got lost or missed along the way. The cynics out there may come up with a conspiracy theory, but having lost several stories myself over the years, I'd be surprised if there weren't more of Blyton's stories that got misfiled.

Anyway, I never much went for the Famous Five, the whole tomboy/borderline transvestite George character confused the hell out of me as a six year old. I quite liked the Secret Seven though, getting into scrapes and drinking lemonade and all that. They had a tree house as well and secret passwords. What kid in the seventies wouldn't like that? Nowadays it's all zombies, vampires, wizards and iPods. And with literacy levels the way they are, books are now just for older people or squares (or whatever the current term is for square)

6000 words a day though, that's a lot. And there was no word processors back then. 6000 words on a typewriter, every day. Makes you think.