Lost My (Writing) Mojo….

It could be the (gorgeous) weather, or the fact that I’ve been engrossed in The (unputdownable) Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins or that the hard drive’s gone on my laptop but whatever it is, my mind has gone a bit floppy: I have lost my writing mojo! Any ideas on how to get it back?

I am going out today.. ahem, via the outdoor swimming pool in Chipping Campden… to try to find it!! (it’s research!)

But enough of my moaning.

Here’s the Writers Bureau’s latest FREE monthly competition – this time you can win one of their “How to Write for Competitions – and Win!”courses.

You just have to answer 5 literary questions (but be quick – you’ve only got until 31st May!) And to get you started (as if you didn’t know), the answer to the first question is William Shakespeare.

And if you think it’s outrageous that Shakespeare should leave only the ‘second-best bed’ to his wife Anne Hathaway (many people obviously think that was an insult) then Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy has a theory about that. She reckons that it was a private joke between the two of them – perhaps the second-best bed was where they first ‘got together’ and her romantic poem here, expresses that sentiment beautifully.

Right, I’m off. Now, where did I put those armbands….?

So You Think You Know Your Austen?

Lots of you liked the Jane Austen quote in the last post – ‘Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery’, so I thought you might be interested in the Guardian’s ‘fiendish’ Jane Austen quiz here.

I consider myself a bit of an Austen ‘buff’ but I got a shameful THREE out of 10!

Go on – you can do better than that!

And on a completely different subject, Take A Break magazine’s ‘You’re Telling Us’ question for this week is: What is your biggest holiday embarrassment?

Email Katie.Fraser@bauer.co.uk with your tales of disappearing bikini bottoms or speaking French in Spain (I did that when we arrived at Murcia airport. ‘Merci!’ I called – very loudly – to the man in passport control). I also once lost the keys to our hire car IN THE SEA – and 70 miles from the hotel. That was embarrassing. And it cost a fortune in taxi fares. Ah, happy days.

I won’t be sending these off because they’ve recently accepted one of my comments for publication – and I don’t like to be greedy – but if yours is one of the comments that’s selected to be printed in the magazine (and you don’t mind sending a little piccie of yourself, on acceptance), you’ll be rewarded with a nice fat cheque for £60. Not bad for five minutes work, is it?

And do please feel free to tell me your embarrassing holiday stories! Well, I’ve told you mine…!

Stepping Out of Your Comfort Zone

Here’s an exercise you might like to try:

Make a list of all the things you never want to write about.

Everyone’s list will be different, but I’d imagine that yours, like mine, could well include subjects like incest or child abuse, or it might be more personal: your divorce, or something you’ve done that you’ve never told a soul and that you’re ashamed of.

Done it?

OK, leave it for now. We’ll come back to that later.

This post is all about stepping out of your comfort zone. Because I’m coming to the conclusion that, if I want to write something really meaningful, that’s what I’m going to have to do.

The word ‘slight’ keeps cropping up, in regard to my stories. This is not good. It means ‘trivial, without strength or substance’. (I’m sure you knew that, I’m just making sure I do).

I was recently placed second in one of Writers’ Forum’s monthly competitions. Although she did qualify her comment, head judge Sue Moorcroft’s quote across the top of my story was, “Superficially slight, this glimpse into teenage life and love belies a mastery of the writer’s craft”. Yes, the second bit’s nice but what about this ‘superficially slight’? Hmmm

And then, on Monday, Woman Weekly’s assassin, Maureen Street, emailed me to reject a story which I’d rewritten at their request – but which they still didn’t like. Her summary of the story? ‘Too slight’! There it is again!

Now I know these are only two people’s opinions but they happen to coincide with my own thoughts about the subjects I tackle in my stories. They’re fine for the women’s magazines, on the whole because they don’t like anything too ‘rufty-tufty’. But when it comes to writing competitions, when you’re up against the big boys (and girls) and you need to take risks with your writing in order to stand out from the crowd, I feel like I’m way off the mark.

The winners of the Telegraph’s monthly short story competitions, for example, have included: a victim of the Holocaust returning to Germany for the first time since she fled as a child, a teacher confronted by an ex-convict pupil (and the story ends in a murder) and domestic violence and abuse in Africa.

Judge Louise Doughty commented on the last story, “The Merry Bells of Scotland”, by Atuki Turner, which you can read here that “for some readers, it may have been a trip out of the comfort zone, but reading stuff you wouldn’t normally write can show you ways you might stretch your own prose style. Prose style is a bit like Play-Doh: if you don’t play with it, it goes all hard.”

I thought that was a good analogy.

And here’s another quote, this time from writer Jonathan Franzen, that I like: “Fiction that isn’t an author’s personal adventure into the frightening or the unknown isn’t worth writing for anything but money.”

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

OK, back to that list you’ve written. You remember, the one with all the things on it that you NEVER want to write about? Got it? Now pick one of the subjects on it.

And write.

Flash Fiction Competition – The Results!

Today is ‘National Flash Fiction Day’ – and also the day on which I promised you the results of my ‘Random Word Flash Fiction Competition’ – and here they are!

First of all thank you to everyone who entered. I was delighted to receive 54 entries, from 39 writers (you were allowed to send in more than one entry) and every single one had included the words ‘knit’, ‘tingle’, ‘perform’ and ‘blunder’, as required. I had lots of entries about accidents, lots of bones ‘knitting’ together, some ballerinas and at least 3 stories set in a circus.

Don’t be disappointed if you haven’t made the shortlist. Competitions are very subjective. A different couple of judges would probably have chosen a different shortlist and a different winner. There’s always an element of luck when you enter a competition, but the only thing I will say is this: Try to be different – take risks and avoid clichés. Your entry needs to stand out from the rest, if it’s going to be shortlisted.

Some of those who didn’t make the shortlist did a little too much ‘telling’ rather than ‘showing’, which spoiled what would have otherwise been an excellent entry. Don’t be afraid to leave some ‘gaps’ in your writing – make the reader do some work! It usually makes for a more satisfying read. Some stories were more like anecdotes, or shortened versions of much longer stories. ‘Flash fiction’ is not easy to pull off. Like a poem, it needs to make a connection and to leave the reader thinking about it afterwards.

My friend Chris was due to judge the shortlist (she’ll do anything for a bit of tea and cake) BUT in the end, sad events and work conspired against her, so I asked ‘him indoors’ to judge the shortlist of 5, anonymously.

“What am I looking for?” he said
“Something well-written, that stays with you – oh, and good use of the 4 required words,” I said.

So, the Head Judge’s comments on how he chose the winner are as follows:

“‘Well-written’, for me, means that I enjoyed it. Because if it’s not well-written, then something will jar. And good use of the 4 words means that I didn’t even notice them – because they were just a part of the story and not forced in because they needed to be there.”

My shortlist of 5 were as follows:

Diving Ducks – Oliver Barton
Breaking The Rules – Tracy Fells
The Winter Circus – Sophie Green
The Red Jumper – Laura Huntley
A Surprise Visit – Cilla Mobley

I’d also like to give a ‘special mention’ to Cath Barton’s ‘Green Like The Sea’, ‘The Rainbow Blanket’ by Alice Parrant and ‘Teamwork’ by Jackie Sayle. These were all great ideas and didn’t quite make it onto the short list but I’m sure you could turn these into longer stories, if you felt so inclined.

So here are the shortlisted stories, in alphabetical order by author’s surname:

Diving Ducks – by Oliver Barton

I like the diving ducks the best. I hold my breath and try to anticipate where they’ll surface. This is my favourite bench, sheltered but commanding a fine view of the whole pond. I am knitting a cat. My wife won’t let me knit at home because I swear when I go wrong. Here in the park, I am better behaved.
The woman is almost upon me before I notice her. She weaves, blundering into bushes and trees, vaguely following the path. She sees me, and with a toothless grin, performs a little dance, lifting up her skirts. To my mortification, I experience a slight erotic tingle. Then she falls into the pond.
I hold my breath a long time until she surfaces, skirts spread out like a giant lily-pad. She drifts. I count my stitches and swear genteelly. How, I think, can stitches come and go so promiscuously, despite my taking the greatest care? I blame the wool. It starts to drizzle. Days are so easily spoilt, I say to the diving ducks as I shuffle home.

Breaking The Rules – by Tracy Fells

The new guy’s trunks droop like a hand-knitted woolly. So loosely fettered they dangle almost to his boney ankles, revealing a disgusting amount of pallid hip flesh. Canary yellow with tangerine polka dots – is he colour blind? With head submerged his arms flay like an out of control water wheel, as he sprints across the pool. Everyone knows the rule for the over 50’s session: pick a lane and stick to it.
I join my ladies group. After performing our ritual good morning nods we plop like ancient terrapins into the tepid water. Silently we slip into formation: Janice to my right, Pink Daisies to the left with her trademark hat of white rubber festooned with plastic daisies. I coast along behind, marking the daisies.
Droopy trunks blunders between us. Janice splutters. His wake splashes over me making my eyes tingle. Pink Daisies keeps going, crawling through the chlorine.
On the return length he’s at it again straying across our straight, and very correct, path. Even Pink Daisies spots the interloper and her synchronised strokes are spooked out of kilter.
Afterwards I shower quickly and dry my perm, before it frizzes, with the regulation dryer. Janice offers a whispery, “See you next week”. She nudges me as the new guy, now fully clothed with glistening white hair slicked back, taps past us. The white stick flicks back and forth as he feels his way to the exit.
“Still,” I mutter, “there’s no excuse for breaking the rules.”

The Winter Circus – by Sophie Green

The barrel organ plays and the blizzard carries the music away into the forest. They come, through the stark trees, along the path barely trampled before another drift covers it again. Drawn, in their two’s and three’s to the lanterns that flicker and swing, to the coloured tent , frayed and faded as it is and dark rimmed where the cloth has sucked the water out of the dirty snow. The audience pile into the last surviving act of the Winter Circus.
They’re swaddled in heavy coats, soggy mufflers and frosted fur hats, their eyes red and watery as their noses, jaws set or teeth chattering.
They’ve come to see the shivering Spider Monkeys perform. Out of the wind and snow they watch as stringy limbs twirl and the monkeys clamber into pyramids and wheels. When the monkeys grow too cold to dance and begin to blunder they are fed hot vodka which makes their eyes gleam in their dark goggles.
The Mandrel watches all of this, shyly sitting backstage, away from the noise and the faces. Earning his keep knitting hats, scarves and gloves. His eyes peer out from beneath a heavy brow, lips pursed, nostrils flaring with concentration. His hands work furiously with the cold needles and yarn until the music ends and the people drift away and then in homesick silence he lies in his cage, his heart fluttering wildly and his fingers a-tingle.

The Red Jumper – by Laura Huntley

Mrs. Morrison knits a jumper, surrounded by balls of soft, red wool. Mr. Morrison pretends to read the newspaper, but they both know that he won’t get as far as the crossword puzzle because he’s too busy listening to the click-clack of the knitting needles. It’s the same every Saturday night; it has been for twenty three years, and after all this time, she still hasn’t finished her husband’s jumper.
‘I might finish this jumper this week’, Mrs. Morrison states, bowing her head to conceal the rapidly growing smirk on her face.
Mr. Morrison glances up from his paper, watches his wife’s quick hands perform their magic; he likes the winding of the wool but mostly the sound as the needles clink together, it sends a sensual tingle right down his spine.
‘I don’t think you will’, he challenges her, which makes her giggle.
‘Oops, I made a little blunder’, she confesses in that little girl lost voice which drives him crazy.
‘What did you do?’ he growls.
‘I dropped a stitch’, she admits with wide eyes.
‘Say it again’, Mr. Morrison orders.
‘I dropped a stitch’, she says with slow, sultry repetition.
Mr. Morrison groans and trembles with desire, and leads his wife by the hand to the bedroom, leaving a trail of red wool up the stairs.

A Surprise Visit – by Cilla Mobley

Last Friday Edna caught herself staring at the arm thrust through her letterbox. It caught her by surprise, this disembodied body part paying her a visit after she had lived alone and undisturbed for so long. How bold it was to negotiate the mile of potholes to the farmhouse.
Its blind fingers blundered around, fumbling for a key, so Edna made a skein of wool and wound it around the offending digits, knitting them to the door handle. Good job she had bought worsted weight wool for Margaret’s jumper.
The hand cried out (with shock) and the noise annoyed Edna so she turned up Puccini’s Verdi and enjoyed the feeling of being in control.
It had been a long time coming, she smiled.
The hand fought and the letterbox flapped for two days and Edna moved to the peace of the East Wing.
On Monday Edna saw an eye at the keyhole. It was disturbingly blue so she stabbed it with a knitting needle. The eye screamed for mercy.
What a performance! As a distraction Edna put on Madame Butterfly and swayed to the music.
On Wednesday the WI met in the village hall to plan a fund raiser for young offenders. Edna offered a pig for a prize.
On Friday Edna cut the wool away from the door and found a young man at the end of the arm. The mess made her ears tingle. “I must clear up” she gasped.
So she fed him to the pigs.

THE WINNER:

In second place, is ‘A Surprise Visit’ by Cilla Mobley – well done, Cilla, we enjoyed the black humour of your entry and it was almost placed first but the overall winner – because it was understated, complete, with seamless use of the 4 words and, very importantly, it made us laugh out loud, was ‘The Red Jumper’ by Laura Huntley.

Well done Laura! I’ve emailed you separately and will get your prize book out to you pronto!

The Mslexia 2012 Children’s Novel Competition (For unpublished novelists. £25 entry fee)

The country air has gone to my head: I’ve just bought a Pashley bike on Ebay for £500*!!! Eek!

This particular model normally costs £645 and the one I’ve bought has only been ridden once so, at the risk of sounding like Becky Bloomwood in the ‘Shopaholic’ books – it was a BARGAIN!

The seller bought it for his Mum and she couldn’t ‘take to it’ (there’s a story there somewhere!), which is why it was for sale. I hadn’t intended to bid that much but I got a bit carried away. Aw, what the heck! I’ve always wanted one, I WILL ride it and it will probably last me for ever, as long as I don’t collide with a tractor on the way back from the pub!

But enough of that. If you write, or want to write for children AND you are a woman (sorry, but them’s the rules!) AND you are prepared to fork out £25 for the entry fee, then you might be interested in this Children’s Novel competition, which Mslexia magazine is running as a bit of a ‘one off’ (ie: it’s not going to be an annual event).

First prize is £5000 but there are opportunities for shortlisted writers to meet agents and stuff, so it’s probably worth a look. There are some details below (all taken from the Mslexia website) – and here are the rules.

The competition is open to children’s novels in any genre by previously unpublished women novelists, but it must be for children who are able to read for themselves or for young adults. Crossover fiction (i.e. that aimed at children and adults) is eligible. Nonfiction, and fiction intended for adults is not eligible. To qualify as a novel, your book must total at least 30,000 words.

Closing date: 10 September 2012

Who is the competition aimed at?

• Women who’ve always wanted to write a children’s novel, but could never find the time. You only have to write 30,000 words minimum for this competition, so even starting from scratch, there’s plenty of time.
• Women with an unfinished manuscript languishing in a bottom drawer. (Could this be the impetus you need to finish it?)
• Women who took up the write-a-novel-in-a-month challenge with NaNoWriMo and have a rough first draft. (Why not polish it up and send it to Mslexia?)
• Women who’ve submitted their completed novels over and over, and have despaired of finding an agent. (If you reach our shortlist, they’ll all sit up and take notice.)

SOME REASONS TO ENTER

• Being shortlisted will put your novel at the top of any agent’s or editor’s in tray
• We guarantee an anonymous reading, so your book will be judged on the same basis as those by ‘a friend of a friend of the editor’
• We will work with the future publisher of the winning entry to chronicle the book’s progress in the magazine and on our website
• 12 shortlisted authors will be invited to a networking event and introduced to a specially invited group of literary agents
• £5,000 – need we say more?

*please do not email me and say “Oh, I’ve got one of those Pashleys tucked away in my garage. Never rode it. You could’ve had it for £250!“

Diamond Jubilee Poetry Competitions

Have you noticed there are suddenly Union Jacks everywhere? The whole country’s going ‘Queen’s Diamond Jubilee crazy’, so I thought it was time I joined in and tracked down a few of the competitions that have sprung up to honour it.

Details are below for some that I’ve found, in order of their closing dates. Some are for locals only, so read the rules carefully! If you find any more (for adults), let me know and I’ll add them to the list.

1. The Daily Mail is running a Diamond Jubilee Poetry Competition to be judged by former Poet Laureate Sir Andrew Motion (*swoons*), Sir Roy Strong, former director of the Victoria & Albert Museum and Pam Ayres.

It’s open to all ages. Send your poem to: Queen Poetry, Weekend Magazine, Daily Mail, Northcliffe House, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT, or email queenpoetry@dailymail.co.uk by Wednesday 16 May. Include your name, age, address and telephone number. The winning entry will be published in Weekend magazine. (So, no prize then…?!)

2. Jersey Arts Trust is giving away a Kindle and book tokens in their competition FOR ISLANDERS. So don’t enter this unless you live in Jersey! You can enter as many poems as you like. Closing date: 23rd May 2012.

3. If you live in the Alsager area (near Crewe) then you’ve got until 25th May to enter this Diamond Jubilee poetry competition. Costs £2 to enter and it doesn’t specify the prize(s).

4. Forward Poetry is running a free-to-enter Jubilee poetry competition, with a £500 first prize. Closing date 29th June and you can send your entry in via their website or by email – so it won’t even cost you a stamp!

5. Nantwich Museum is holding an open Jubilee Poetry competition. The closing date for the adult section is 14th July 2012. It’s free to enter and there are books as prizes.

Meanwhile, the unpacking continues. As we’ve combined two households, we’re like Noah and Mrs Noah: we have TWO of everything. So there’s a lot of debate along the lines of ‘Your roasting tin or mine? Your laundry basket, or mine?’ (My stuff seems to be winning. Well, it’s just nicer!)

Cotswolds Calling

Here I am – at last! Sorry I’ve been away so long but you know what it’s like, when you move house. Chaos.

It was pouring with rain on moving day BUT the moment we arrived at our house, the sun came out. A sign? I hope so!
This is a picture of the village I’m in! Anyone like to hazard a guess as to where it is….?!

And, so far, so good. We’ve had a few ‘teething problems’ which I won’t bore you with (the previous owner took something she wasn’t supposed to – the GRATE for the fire, for a start) but on the whole, everything’s fine and dandy. And who cares if we’ve still got 13 boxes to unpack in the kitchen? There’s something strangely comforting about walls of cardboard.

Good news on the ‘Random Flash Fiction Competition’ front: I’ve had over 30 entries and there’s still 2 days left until the ‘closing date’ – midnight on 9th May – so what are you waiting for? Give it a go! Although there’s only one prize, I will be short-listing 5 entries and giving feedback on the blog, so you might get a mention, even if you don’t win.

May got off to a good start. I’ve got a photo in this week’s Real People magazine and a recipe in Take A Break’s My Favourite Recipes and I’ve won a short story competition – namely, this one, on the Short Story Radio website.

The story’s not on there yet – it’s got to be ‘cast’ and recorded and then uploaded – and I’m going to be interviewed and have an ‘author podcast’, which should be fun! Eeek!

I’m collecting Diamond Jubilee poetry/writing competitions for a post in a few days, so if you come across any, let me know, won’t you?