Posts Tagged ‘prize’

I admit it – I have neglected this blog quite shamefully and it is almost exactly a year since my last post. Having our house on the market for two years and attempting to keep both house and large country garden under control for viewings took much of my time. But the main reason for not posting was that I had run out of things to say about writing and the writers’ condition. The online writing sites that I have used for the last twelve years or so have fallen into what can only be described as the doldrums and I have perceived a general lack of enthusiasm for giving and receiving feedback in this remote fashion.

That is not to say people aren’t being busy and successful! On the positive side, many members of my favourite site have now been published or have agents and potential publishing deals, so the process of online reviews has clearly been working well. I have had a few small successes of my own, including several shortlistings in Flash500, acceptance of a story into Twisted Tales 2016 and – tarantara – I won the Worcestershire Literary Festival’s Flash Fiction competition, with another story shortlisted. So that was nice! Sadly, the announcement was made at the launch of the Festival and, since I couldn’t be there because of moving house, one of the judges had to read my winning story. But there you go. I’ll be reading both stories at the launch of the anthology on Sunday 20th November, all being well.

The reason for posting now is that I have joined an actual live writing group in my small town and thought it was an opportunity to share this new experience. It’s a five-minute walk to the weekly venue so I have no excuse for not turning up, apart from family commitments, disasters and holidays. I have only been to one meeting so far because of the first of these, but I did do the homework, which is limited to 500 words on each occasion. I had also done the homework for my first meeting: to write a love scene.

My first thought on the subject was – AAARRRGGGHHH! I would never put myself in the position of writing such a thing, especially if it were to contain sex. I don’t enjoy reading sex scenes and I can’t imagine the horror of writing one. But when I had calmed down, I realised that a love scene needn’t contain sex and that many of my very short stories are love scenes of one sort or another. So I wrote a new one and read it aloud when my turn came around. It went down well, with hoots of laughter in all the right places, along with a collective groan at one intentionally sickly bit and even a tear from one member at the end. Who could ask for more? I also got some useful feedback, which I have used to tighten it up for submission to Flash500.

I was very impressed by the general standard of writing – and reading – within the group and all the feedback was pertinent and kindly given. Having become used to somewhat more brutal treatment via online groups, this made a refreshing change. But I do want the truth, 100% of the time. Anything else is of little use, but I must be careful how I phrase any criticisms. Coming from Yorkshire, this isn’t really in my DNA…

So my first experience of the writing group was overwhelmingly positive. My only problem arose during the usual end-of-session five-minute writing challenge. The topic was ‘a message to a particular member who is sick’ and could take any form. The fact that I had never met this person shouldn’t have been the barrier it became, but my mind went completely blank and I didn’t write a single word. The others managed some very entertaining, irreverent and poignant poems and prose and I felt really stupid for not producing anything.

This failure probably wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone who knows how I work. I’m not a jotter or drafter. If I have an idea for a story, I let it grow and develop in my mind until it is either forgotten or emerges fully formed and largely edited after a period of days, weeks or even months. I am extremely intimidated by the idea of writing ‘on-the-spot’, especially when everyone else gets their heads down and starts scribbling. It’s my recurrent exam nightmare all over again! When my turn to ‘show’ came round, I explained my predicament and was met with understanding and reassurance. Somebody said that the group is a safe place in which to try things out and no one should be anxious about any perceived failure, because it is about having a go and gradually building confidence. I hope I fare better on Thursday when the next challenge is set but if I don’t, I’m not going to beat myself up. I’ve managed three lots of homework on a given topic, something that is normally outside my ‘comfort zone’ – note the inverted commas, because the latest assignment is a maximum of 500 words using as many cliches as we can squeeze in. I’m not sure how this exercise benefits our writing but I’ve done it anyway. So I am already stretching myself a little further than usual and if the only benefit to my writing is that I achieve the odd submittable piece, it will be a good result.

I ought also to mention that it is lovely to meet new people and to share an experience, doing something at which we all want to improve. So no minuses, really. It gets me out of the house and away from the computer for a couple of hours and I heartily recommend it. So far…

Watch this space.

If you have any experiences of writing groups you’d like to share, please post a comment. Go on – scare me!

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I haven’t done much in the way of submissions recently because (drum roll) I have been busy writing new stories. They’re all short (some only 140 characters) but are new stories nevertheless and that gives me great satisfaction.

wpid-fine-linen.jpg.jpegSo I was thrilled to hear that my submission to Fine Linen, a new Literary Fiction magazine, had been successful. ‘Dressing Up’ is a flash fiction of which I am particularly proud and started as an opening sentence that popped into my mind and wouldn’t leave, as with most of my successful stories. It is a gift that arrives apparently out of the blue and I count myself exceptionally lucky to receive it now and again.

Fine Linen Magazine is a curious and original ‘pack’. It consists of several parts, including an A5 magazine containing half the stories and an A3 full colour fold-up broadsheet with the remainder. There is also a little factsheet, a suggested reading order, a mini-bookmark displaying ten-word biographies of the issue’s contributors and another linen one.  It’s lovely but I’m not sure what to do with it! My other printed pieces are in conventional magazines and anthologies which can be casually(!) displayed on the coffee table or retrieved easily from shelves. Unfortunately, I think Fine Linen will remain in its envelope to keep the elements together and stop them getting dog-eared, which is a bit sad, especially because a remarkable coincidence occurred in this issue.

Fine Linen is based in the US and yet two of this quarter’s contributors (myself and Simon Kewin) live fifty yards from one another in a tiny English hamlet! As the list of selected stories numbers only fifteen out of hundreds of submissions, we were astonished to find ourselves back-to-back in the broadsheet. I’d like to think it was because I’ve trained Simon so well but, alas, he has a good many years of publishing successes on me!

You can subscribe to Fine Linen by following the link.

I was also delighted to be approached by the Editor of a new online Literary Fiction magazine, The Writing Garden, for permission to print ‘Decorated Hands’, which she found on Readwave, in her third issue. This is a story I wrote over ten years ago after sitting opposite a woman with decorated hands on a train following the death of my mother. Everything that happened around that time is still very clear in my mind and the story I wrote, though having nothing to do with death, has a great deal to do with loss. It is a story that has had many lives in print and online and I am so pleased it continues to travel independently.

And finally, please get your submissions in to National Flash Fiction Day’s micro competition (100 words) and anthology (500 words) by midnight on May 15th. I have nothing to do with the judging of either of these but you will recognise the names of all this year’s judges if you follow the flashing scene. I’ve got my three hundred-worders in but am still mulling over the theme of ‘Geography’ for the anthology. With only a week to go, I’d better get cracking, and so had you! Please use the links to spread the word.

Cheerio for now, Sue.

listen_with_mother2-229x300Some of you (though perhaps not very many) will remember this introduction to Listen with Mother on the BBC Light Programme back in the 1950s. Listening to stories on the radio, at bedtime and in the classroom, was (and probably still is) an introduction to literature long before we read it for ourselves. We learned how to sit still and focus; how to imagine ourselves in another world; how to suspend our disbelief.

I can still remember the frustration I felt looking at a storybook and being unable to decipher the letters. So each night, when my father read me the latest installment of Rupert Bear in the Daily Express, I insisted on studying the words so that I could match them to what he was saying. Soon I could tell if he was trying to cut corners and read the short verse instead of the much longer prose! These experiences translated into an insatiable appetite for fiction, long and short. But for reading, not writing. That came much later.

Although I speak the words aloud when I write (and often suggest to writers whose work I am critiquing that they do this to check the dialogue, sentence structure and clarity) the idea of reading to an audience was unthinkable for many years. All my life I have shied away from public speaking (which rather scuppered my early political ambitions) and always insisted in being on the production side of school plays because, although I knew how a role should be played, nerves would have strangled the words before they ever came near to being spoken.

So it was with great trepidation that I agreed to read my prize-winning flash fiction Mother’s Pride at a flash slam on National Flash Fiction Day in Oxford two years ago. The closer the date drew, the more nervous I became and every day I had to force myself not to pull out. But my husband came along for support, there were a couple of faces I knew from the internet, and everyone was very friendly. They were also, I realised with relief, at least as nervous as me. So I sank a glass of red wine and got the job done, and it was fine – even quite good! I can’t tell you how proud I felt when other experienced readers told me they would never have known it was my first time.

My second public reading wasn’t such a success. It was at the first meeting of Southville Writers, in a Bristol pub, and the background noise made it impossible for me to tell whether I was speaking loudly enough. Turns out I wasn’t! No one had any idea what my story was about until they read it afterwards.

My third venture was last Saturday in the Bristol Foyles, at an event organised by Southville Writers and Bristol Women Writers, where a mixture of poetry and prose was read over a five hour period. It was great to hear poetry read by the poet not in that monotonous, dreary way it is so often presented (think of Roger McGough on Poetry Please). This was real and vibrant and the writers knew exactly how to get the best out of it. I learned some valuable lessons about pacing, expression and delivery during those few readings, which I was able to use a short time later.

There were long breaks in between sections for chat and I had fun catching up with a couple of regular live performers I had met before, whose names (Pauline Masurel and Kevlin Henney) invariably crop up on shortlists and as winners of short fiction competitions. By the time my name was called I wasn’t too jittery, despite the large coffee. It went well, although I had a last-minute panic over differentiating between three separate voices, even though I’d practised and practised. I more or less pulled it off without stumbling and this time I knew everyone could hear because I had a microphone!

Again, the feeling of achievement was immense and I am now looking forward to my next performance – a reading of my 300-word story, Care – at the launch of the Worcestershire LitFest Flash Fiction 2014 Anthology in November, with much less fear. I’m hoping it gets easier every time, but I have a feeling I’ll always be grateful for a swift glass of wine beforehand.

As a listening experience, I can’t recommend live readings too highly. I find that hearing the words the way the author intended gives an extra depth to the story or poem and recreates that feeling of being immersed in another world that Listen with Mother gave us. In an age when it is all too easy to skim the surface of experience on social media, electronic games, film and television, this is a real treat. Please, if you see an event near you, do go along and support the writers. I guarantee you’ll be glad you did!

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If you have any tips or tricks for live performance, I’d be very glad to hear them. Please leave a comment below.

 

 

Resized cover imageA lot of the people who know me have no idea that I’m a writer. I’ve always felt self-conscious about that label, because you need to be able to back it up; otherwise you’re just a bit of a weird fantasist. Or a romancer, as my grandmother would have said – meaning someone who makes up stories, which I suppose describes me fairly well. But right now I am holding in my hands an actual book, with my name on the cover, along with those of nine other talented women. Though I say it myself, My Baby Shot Me Down is an object of beauty. It includes both prose and poetry; some of it by far more accomplished writers than me. But if you type my name into an Amazon search, up it pops. It includes six of my short stories. So maybe I’ve earned the right to call myself a writer.

People tend to be impressed when you show them an actual book. My favourite response so far is ‘What are you doing in there?’ People who know me are pleased, excited, proud, and sometimes, to be honest, a little puzzled, because they thought I was just a rather odd person who gave up a secure, well-paid teaching job and ended up working part time for minimum wage and volunteering in a charity shop. Which is all true, but not the whole story. Anyway, my name is Alison Wassell, and I am a writer.

And then, inevitably, The Question is asked.

When are you going to write a novel?’ I wonder if, as Usain Bolt crosses the finishing line, anyone ever says

That’s nice dear, but when are you going to run the marathon?’

My name is Alison Wassell and I am a short story writer. I am not a wannabe novelist. I don’t view short stories as practice for something bigger. They are what I do, and my only ambition is to do them better.

DIGITAL CAMERAI almost got sucked in once. Several years ago, I registered for Nanowrimo. The idea is that, throughout the month of November, you attempt to write the first draft of a novel. The target is, I think, 50.000 words. I lasted about a week, and I wrote around 8000 words. I began to dread my writing sessions. I ran out of plot. But my head started to burst with ideas for short stories that I was desperate to write. That was when I realised that I was not a novelist, and that I had no desire to be one. The following November I set myself the target of writing a new story every day for 30 days. It was one of the best writerly things I’ve ever done. Several of those stories ended up as competition winners. I’m actually still working on some of the others.

Five of my stories in the anthology are flash fictions. It’s what I do best. I don’t do lengthy descriptions and I don’t do intricate plotting. I just like to capture a moment, or a single idea. I get most of my ideas from snippets of overheard conversations on buses. I once won £50 for a story based on something the cashier in the Co-op told me when I was buying cat litter. I think a piece of flash fiction is closer to a poem than any other form of writing. You can compose it in your head during a thirty minute walk. By the time you put pen to paper, it can be almost word perfect. I know this, because I do it, most mornings, on my way to work.

So, as a writer, I am a sprinter, not a marathon runner. Anyone who knows me personally will be smirking now, because I won’t even run to catch a bus, but I still like the analogy, so I’m sticking with it.

I’m well aware that short story writing will never make me rich. But for the last couple of years it has paid my fuel bills, mainly in competition winnings. I could have spent that time beavering away at ‘my novel’, with little or no hope of it ever being published. But I’d have needed a lot of extra jumpers to keep me warm while I was doing it.

DIGITAL CAMERAI don’t regard the short story as a lesser form. Alice Munro is my heroine. I prefer William Trevor’s short stories to his novels, and I believe that Dubliners is the best thing that James Joyce ever wrote. I’m thrilled to have my work included in My Baby Shot Me Down, because I can’t imagine anywhere else that would offer me such a fantastic showcase. But please don’t ask me when my novel will be coming out. My name is Alison Wassell, and my ambition is to be a better short story writer.

***

Alison is short story writer who specialises in flash fiction. Once a primary school teacher, she has won, been placed and shortlisted in numerous writing competitions, including 2nd place in Flash 500 (first quarter 2013) and first prize in the microfiction section of The New Writer Prose & Poetry Prizes 2012 with I Blame The Parents, which is included in My Baby Shot Me Down. By the way, Tania Hershman came third in that competition!  Her story The Mother Thief was placed third out of 1400 entries in the Final Chapters writing competition, organized by the Dying Matters Coalition in 2012, and was published in the Final Chapters Anthology (Jessica Kingsley Publishers) in 2014. In 2012 Alison came second in the 250 word category and third in the 1000 words category of the Words With Jam Bigger Short Story Competition. Her stories were published in the anthology An Earthless Melting Pot. In 2013 she came second in the 2500 words category of the same competition and was a runner up in the 250 words section.

I told you she was top!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I just wanted to share this piece of news before sliding back into my virus-ridden hole. I had an email from Bill Hutchens, director of the short feature film of The Beast Next Door (free to read on the Ether App) to let me know it will be screened at the Planet Connections Film Festival in New York on June 2nd! The story’s journey continues. I haven’t actually seen the film myself as, although I was sent a copy some months ago, I haven’t got anything I can watch it on. That’s OK. I know it sticks closely to the original story, having commented on early versions of the screenplay, but it is difficult enough to watch a film of a much-loved book, let alone a story you have written yourself! I’ll admit I may be weird in this respect.

Other news – both my stories were shortlisted in December’s Flash500 and one got mentioned by the judge a couple of times, so it must have come close. Another one was shortlisted in the Fish Flash Fiction competition. Yes, I know it was a long shortlist, but it was a huge entry so I was pleased.

My biggest news (that’s how it feels, anyway) is that I broke out of my flash straitjacket after four years of not writing anything longer than a thousand words, and found myself completing a story of 4,000. It went down very well in my writing group, which felt absolutely wonderful. I’d thought I’d seen the end of my ‘long’ shorts career, so I’m happy and relieved. I just hope the judges of the competition I entered like it…

The Strid is still getting hundreds of hits a week (2,500 last week) because of the article at cracked.com. Not everyone stays to read, obviously, but I’ve had some really lovely comments.

Otherwise, I am still happily curating the Readwave Literary Fiction category and have accepted some great pieces of writing. Pop along and have a read if you have time – it’s all free. Much of Readwave is now devoted to articles and true life stories, but LitFic is an oasis of well-written fiction.

Finally, Ether Books has decided to try crowdfunding for further development of the App and to raise the profile of Ether Books worldwide. Anyone interested in investing can visit CrowdCube for further information or the Ether Blog which explains the campaign in detail.

And that’s about it for now. Please feel free to leave a comment or ask a question.

ps I almost forgot – call me crazy but I backed away from a publishing deal for a collection of my shorts. More of that another time.

 

The pleasure and the pain of Peer Review

I’ll begin by saying I doubt I would still be writing if I hadn’t been introduced to peer review by my good friend Simon Kewin back in 2008. The fact that he simultaneously gave up on it, finding it a block to his creativity, simply indicates the difference between our levels of writing experience at that time. He had already had over fifty stories published and I had just written my first, of which I was extremely (and mistakenly) proud. My introduction to You Write On was a baptism of fire but one for which I will be forever grateful. Today I am a member of four peer review sites, two public and two private, each of which has different benefits and drawbacks.

There are dozens of peer review sites available but for those who have never put their work up for public scrutiny, I would recommend YWO as a first step. This is how it works: you join, upload a short story or the first 7,000 words of a novel and your submission goes into a pot and takes its turn to be assigned to a reviewer. While you are waiting, you request an assignment and pick something from your daily choice of six stories to review. You rate the piece over eight categories and write a review that (hopefully) justifies those scores. It takes a while to get the hang of it but you soon learn how to give useful feedback and this in turn helps your own writing. It sounds ideal – you get free reviews and, if you apply the best advice, you can improve your writing at a much faster rate than if you sat alone filing rejections from agents and publishers. And, because there is a ratings chart that can win your piece a free appraisal by a publishing professional, there is an outside chance you will be ‘discovered’. However, to get to this stage, unless you have a rare and universally-recognised talent, there will be some unpalatable medicine to swallow along the way.

The pitfalls arise from the nature of the site. The competitive aspect adds excitement but brings out the worst in some people. They may praise your work to the skies but score you low because they believe this will scupper your chances of beating them to their coveted top ten place. Unfortunately for them, although the scores aren’t revealed, you can work them out by keeping a chart if you are so inclined. This leads to bitter complaints and arguments on the message boards but since there is a 1-in-5 removal option the writer can use to delete a useless or low-scoring review, the effects of ‘sabotage’ reviews are largely mitigated.

Another problem arises from the proportion of inept feedback that is bound to occur on a free, public site. You have to be realistic about the depth and range of feedback you will receive from amateurs, who may actually be incapable of writing a coherent review or story themselves. Not surprisingly, the varying quality of reviews  loosely reflects the varying quality of submissions. If you are baffled by the feedback you receive, take a quick peek at the reviewer’s own work…

As a direct result of both of the above, occasionally inner, or ‘knitting’, circles form, ostensibly to ensure that these members get more useful feedback (and better scores) than the outsiders. They get pally via the message boards or email and then try and ‘catch’ one another’s work to ‘save’ it from sabotage or useless reviews. If the circle gets big enough, it can begin to skew the charts and certainly affects the chances of receiving poor feedback if you are not one of the chosen few. Luckily this isn’t a regular occurrence.

All this nonsense aside, if you do go onto a site like YWO, you can strike gold; not necessarily by beating your way to the top of the charts, but by honing your craft, steadily improving with each upload. And the more work you put into reviews you give, the more experience you gain to apply to your own work. It’s win-win if you use the opportunities to full advantage. You will also grow a skin as thick as that on school custard so eventually you learn not only to thank every reviewer (good, bad or ugly) for their comments, but relish the insight into your writing that can help elevate it to a higher league.

Chances are that even if you make the top ten and win a ‘pro-crit’, you will not come away with a publishing deal. Only a handful of members have achieved one over the last six years. What you will get is a privileged view into what the professionals are looking for. Having had a good number of these I know that the more critical they are, the more useful they will be. Since my work only comprises complete stories, I have often received a very handy overview of what works and what doesn’t.

The other public site I belong to is Readwave. This is completely different to You Write On and has no competitive element. It is essentially a showcase for very short stories and true-life articles, which anyone can read and comment on. As such, there is little opportunity or appetite for in-depth criticism and most comments tend to be of the ‘I really loved this’ kind, possibly in the hope they will be reciprocated. As one of the team of Staff Reviewers, I tend to venture a couple of suggestions that I think will improve the writing/story but avoid rigorous analysis, tempted though I may be. Most of the time the writer leaves the piece exactly as it is and, frustrating as that may be, I have learned over the  years to shrug and say, “Well, it’s their story.” It won’t win any prizes, but that’s not really why they are there. They simply want to be read and ‘discovered’. And some stories/writers are. One piece  recently ‘went viral’, achieving 20,000 hits in one day! You can read it here.

Private sites are a different species altogether. Membership is by introduction or invitation and all the members have reached a certain level of competence in their writing and criticism. This brings problems of its own, strange as that sounds. When receiving criticism it is vital that you learn which to follow and which to ignore. If you are writing for the pleasure of the activity rather than to complete a novel, it may push you into producing something that isn’t really yours and with which you have no affinity. It is a trickier judgment when your reviewers are experienced, published and respected authors. But they are not YOU and they are not writing YOUR book. You still have to trust your instincts! What you do get on private sites is a small group of people who get to know your work and who can home in on your weaknesses – the ones you knew were there but were hoping to get away with – with accuracy and regularity. There is also the benefit of having several people read a whole novel and give an overview. I recommend it as the next step when your mixed bag of reviews on your open site starts to send you round in circles.

Eventually many writers suffer from review-fatigue and consequent boredom with writing in general. Several experienced writers I know have found that, over time, the act of picking writing apart can suck the fun out of the creative process and even from reading for pleasure. This is one of the greatest dangers of peer review. Strategic breaks and writing in different formats can help but a degree of honesty and self-knowledge is needed at this point. Do you continue to belong to crit sites because you still want/need help with your work or because you are addicted to the message boards and enjoy the support of virtual (and actual) friends? Is your writing and output improving or suffering as a result of your involvement?

Simon decided six years ago that peer review was having a detrimental effect on his writing and has gone from strength to strength since making the decision to go it alone, while I still need to be told that what I have written is a coherent story and not just a piece of semi-realised waffle. But these days I only need opinions from a couple of trusted people whose work I admire before sending it out into the world. Although my activity on YWO has dwindled to  nothing, I will always be thankful for what I have received there, including my rhinoceros hide.

So that’s my advice to new writers who opt for the bumpy road of peer review: give as much as you can and accept what is offered with grace and joy. If you do, you won’t regret it.

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If anyone would like to provide a link to their recommended peer review site, please add it below with a few words of description. On the other hand, if there is one to avoid feel free to say why. Thanks!

This week I had the pleasure of choosing a winning story from the seven shortlisted entries in Southville Writers’ first open competition. Having just submitted some hundred-word stories to a comp myself, I was eager to see what others could do in so few words. The only stipulation was that an aspect of Bristol must be mentioned somewhere along the way.

I was impressed by all the stories, particularly by the strong sense of history that permeated most of them. Although I take part in the selection of flash fiction for NFFD’s Flash Flood, this is the first time I have had to choose one story over another and, let me tell you, it isn’t easy! However, one story stood out immediately and kept its place during many subsequent readings. Those that seemed quite light — almost abstract — at first, revealed more depths and insights with each visit.

I have permission to post the winning story and the runner-up with my comments. If you’d like to read my thoughts on all the shortlisted pieces, please visit Southville Writers’ website. Congratulations to Ali and Pauline and many thanks for letting me post your great little stories on my blog!

FROM THE ARNOLFINI by Ali Bacon

The yellow boat called Blackbird beaks its way through chill and choppy waters. The crew are raw and clumsy, rowing for dear life. Crowds on the quay look once and turn away, expecting more than this as entertainment.

Watching from five floors up, we are warm, remote, content to chart its progress.

‘Look, boat,’ says the toddler on my lap.

‘Its name is Blackbird.’

‘No, yellow boat,’ he says.

A scuff of wind, a missed stroke, a wobble that goes way beyond correction.

Excitement at last.

‘Look, look! Yellow blackbird drowning.’

***

My comment:  this was the story that made me want to punch the air and shout, ‘Yes!’ From the moment the Blackbird ‘beaks’ through the water, I knew I was in safe hands. In a few words, the writer conveyed a place, an event, a relationship, the human condition, humour and pathos. The winner – I couldn’t ask for more!

Ali Bacon lives in South Gloucestershire where she reads, writes and reviews on http://alibacon.com. When she isn’t writing she knocks a small white ball round a golf course and makes strictly unserious attempts at ballroom dancing. Her debut novel A Kettle of Fish is a roller-coaster family drama set in Scotland. E-book and paperback from Amazon. A Kettle of Fish on Facebook Ali on Twitter @AliBacon

EXPECTING THE MOON TO TANGO by Pauline Masurel

“Come doon y’daft wee hinnie and dance with me!”

He brandishes the rose. She beams serenely down from lofty height. Her silvery-blue skirts shine bright against dim expectations of the sky. He shakes off his donkey jacket, slips fleetly across Castle Green, smooching frost-spangled silence in the crook of his arm.

One of these nights she will though, you can tell. She gazes longingly at dented snow. She’d love to dance, really she would, and after a sniff or two of whisky he’s the only man alive who knows her secret.

“Don’t be shy lassie,” he croons, “I’ll nae tell.”

***

My comment: I loved this story, for the sharply visual nature of the writing and a peep inside the imagination of a joyful drunk. This was my runner-up because, although I enjoyed the beautifully rendered Scottish dialect, a more local accent would have placed the piece more firmly in the area.

Pauline Masurel lives in the rural borderlands of Bristol. She is a gardener who writes short and very short fiction. She often performs her work in the Bristol and Bath areas. There’s more about her writing on her website http://www.unfurling.net and you can find her on Twitter @unfurlingnet.

If anyone is based in the Bristol area and would like to join the group, visit their website or pop along to one of their very friendly events. There’s one coming up on 16th April and yours truly will be there.