Month: February 2013

Getting in the mix.


Following on from my last post I received some very good ideas from the some of the people who make up the extremely awesome Fantasy Writers group on Facebook. I’ve since created a few characters from Stockport and intend to use other people that I’ve met on nights out and such things as a base for the fringe characters. You know the ones who you chat to like they’re your best friend for an hour one night but never see them again. The ones that inadvertently turn a normal night out into a great one.

I’ve moved my story along but as I was doing so something hit me. One of the things I have enjoyed about taking my writing more seriously is entering into competitions. But I haven’t done it in AGES. So I’ve decided to enter a short short story competition through the magazine I subscribe to ‘Writing Magazine’. It’s a 750 word fiction contest in any genre you like. I’m enjoying creating a new story as well as, though I like the story I’m writing, a break is always good.

Having to come up with a new story has always been one of my favourite parts of the writing process. So, I ask you this. What is your favourite part of the writing process?

Also, if you’re interested in the competition, the website is




You can’t have too many characters. Can you?


I find myself at a particular part of my current story that I’m not the biggest fan of.

The bit just before the climax of the story.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’ll still put all I have into writing this part of the story like I have with the rest of it but as I write it all I can think of is…How should I start the final battle scene? Who should die? Who should be the hero? What surprises should I or indeed do I need to put in? etc etc etc

Now, in this part of my current story my (reluctant) hero is waiting for backup which he can make into an army at short notice. The bad guy already has his army and is waiting on the battle ground. But this throws up even more things to stop me from getting to the climax.

More smeggin characters to introduce.

I’m not giving them huge descriptions but the ones that do get them will feature more prominently in the climax and the others will get even smaller ones but will still feature somehow. But they all need them. And they all need to be written.

I do however like creating these kinds of characters. I don’t need to give them in depth descriptions but just enough so the reader can (hopefully) picture them and care about them a little bit. I’ve so far managed to get some Spanish female twins (described as stunning as anyone who’s been to Spain can confirm) and an American who models herself on Buffy the vampire slayer. There are men involved  as well I swear. These are just fringe characters remember.

Well, I’m going get back to making more characters and getting to that wonderful climax I can’t wait to write.

Bye Bye

Writing groups. Sounds good but how do I find them?


I bet its an easy process but how do I find a good writing group to join?

I’ve read enough to convince me that a writing group may be the next thing I need to do to progress with my writing. It sounds like a good way to get my writing critiqued to a (hopefully) high standard and to get it out to more people.

I will (again hopefully) be moving to greater manchester and I’m looking for a good writing group to join. But do I simply google it or is there a place I can go to find what I’m looking for?

Any suggestions would be greatly appriated.

Well thats me for now.

Bye bye

in praise of sleep

This is why sleep should be a part of the working day as well as a majority of the night.

a different daylight

I’ve just finished At Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O’Brien. Don’t let the incomprehensible title put you off. It contains vast stores of wisdom:

What is wrong with…most people…is that they do not spend sufficient time in bed.

I find nothing to disagree with in the above.

When a man sleeps, he is steeped and lost in a limp toneless happiness: awake he is restless, tortured by his body and the illusion of existence.

Flippin torturous body.

Why have men spent centuries seeking to overcome the awakened body?

YES. Forget this waste of thinking power, philosophers.

Put it to sleep, that is a better way. Let it serve only to turn the sleeping soul over, to change the blood-stream and thus make possible a deeper and more refined sleep…

In fact, let us all become cats:

cat pandaI admit he looks more like a panda in this photo, but it’s the same…

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Chase scene baby!


I’m currently in the midst of writing a chase scene that will come before the final battle which will end my current story (as mentioned a bit in my last post)

The hero of the piece is currently chasing after two of his fellow searchers (hunters of demons) who are after the main demon villain of the piece. The hero has had to fight off some other demons and make sure another searcher (who had been seriously injured) is ok.

Now I need to get my hero across the city of manchester to the final battle ground. I’m trying to get across how fast he is going and what he can see, hear and feel. I also want to convey how passers by are seeing him. Its not been easy so far.

I’ve said that the hero is seeing everyone around him as blurs and how the wind is hitting his face. He is a demon searcher who has enhanced physical traits (speed, strength, agility etc) along with being a former police officer.

I’ve asked this before but does anyone have any suggestions? I’ve had some help (cheers joan) but am looking for somemore.

As always any help would be awesome.


Another draft of a short story of mine.


This is another draft of my take on the vampire myth entitled ‘The End Solution’. I have posted one draft before in a previous post if you feel like comparing them.

Feedback would be awesome. Thank You

End Solution.

This attention following my unwanted rise to fame is running me ragged. They keep coming thick and fast even though they swear they mean me no harm. How can riot police scream such a phrase? I’m sure they can’t find me in here. I need to take my mind off this so I can relax and try to recover. I’ll do my usual trick. But I think I’ll commit my rebirth to this note book I took from them. I’m not about to let them get away with anything. Once I get things sorted, they’ll be sorry they ever tried to stop me.

Work was what it was; Nice but a bore. I could do everything on my team without really thinking about it which is standard when working in administration for over a year. The internet became half of my working day as a result. I was always just biding my time in that place. There’s only so many times you can be told something will come around so keep up the good work before slowly beginning to lose your will to live. Though thankfully my friends help me stay alive.

“Hey, Avenly. Get some work done! I don’t pay you to look at the news.’ Peter said this usually once or twice a day when ever one of the higher ups walked passed. He would then come over and read the news with me closely followed by Amanda and Mark. We were close friends and had had many a good night out together. I tried to go and see them but no matter how much control I think I have, it still isn’t enough. I watched them have a drink a few weeks ago before Amanda turned round and clocked me. I managed to run away before she came out to find me.

What the government has done to me fills me with a mixture of anger and hope. Anger that they would do such things to normal people just because they were different and feel they have the right to and hope because I can use what they did to me to put the country right. I realise the power I have but all I need is a complete plan. I can smell the ones that need to be killed but do I go at it randomly or in some kind of order?

The day I was created always goes through my head along with those bloody news reports. They established long ago that each person who committed a fatal act had a chemical in their blood that facilitated such an act. The tests they ran on the volunteers, who turned out to be criminals that were forced into it for their freedom, conclusively showed that this chemical could be removed and they could re-enter society without any threat to anyone. The volunteers were never freed at all. My visit to the government building to read and take some documentation on the subject some five days ago, which has increased the number of police after me,  showed me that some of them were found to act ‘in an undignified manner’ and were exterminated because of it. The documents show exactly what they did to my creator and the two hundred thousand. I won’t let them get away with this.

From my desk I could see the building where those tests had been conducted and are still probably being conducted now. The question I always had was how would they locate and extract the chemical. I thought I’d be happy knowing the answer, but now that I do and I am the answer, happiness is far from how I feel.

I left work that day and went passed the building to go home. It’s an ominous thing to look at with its Lord of the Rings style two towers that seemed to glare down on people. Every so often the light would catch it and it almost looked like the towers had eyes. I continued until I saw the crowd outside its main entrance as usual. They were always there trying to get information or complaining about the tests they were doing even though till that point it had clearly made the country a better place. I can see their side of things now.

I glanced up at the windows of the smaller office building that joined the two towers together and saw my creator running wildly through the corridor. I was frozen in shock. I can’t believe that that was all I could do. How small of a man was I until this all happened? I can’t imagine acting like that now.

He blasted through the main doors of the building with a wild and confused look in his eyes. Hair everywhere and whatever wasn’t covered by hair was covered by blood. People were screaming and running but I just couldn’t bloody move. I wondered why he was in such a state which gave him enough time to reach me. I tried to move but his grip was too much. His eyes seemed to say that he’d chosen me as he jumped and easily knocked me to the ground. When I tried to get him off me with my meagre strength he looked me in the eye and I couldn’t and still can’t really believe it. Was that happiness in his eyes? Like he was happy to attack me? I know now that he was. Still in shock I allowed him to bite me and though it lasted only a minute I felt its effects immediately.

It felt like he was sucking and blowing on my neck. Taking blood out and putting it back in again to mix it with mine was what it was. When he jumped off me I could feel it course through my body immediately and I had the overwhelming feeling that I was constantly drinking my favourite drink but as I drank my thirst increased. It was as glorious as it was painful. I miss that feeling and the few I’ve fed on so far haven’t come close. I fell to the ground and as I got back up, the feeling changed. A distinct odour filled my nose and made my fingers tingle. It was the same feeling I got whenever I caught the smell of my favourite cake being made or meal being cooked. As people ran past, still screaming and frightened, they all gave off the same odour. I leant against a nearby pole and just took the smell in. It was like nothing I’d ever smelt before. It was the chemical coursing through their veins.

I received a text message from Amanda which said something like ‘Hey Bruce RU ok? I can see people running around. If UR ok, we’re going for a drink in the usual place xx’. I genuinely thought to myself, Why not? I could have one drink and smell my friends. That has to go down as the best and worst thought I’ve ever had. As I casually strolled back through the crowd towards them standing outside work I noticed a few people directing horrified looks at my neck. As far as I could tell the blood flow had stopped but my neck and shoulder were covered along with most of the right side of my shirt. I suddenly felt weak at the knees and then it happened.

Everyone around me became irresistible and I had to suck the chemical out of all of them. I started to run but my knees wouldn’t let me. As I slowly got towards my friends they all smelt the same. The smell became more intense as I got my knees back and ran past them. The worried looks they gave me still haunt my dreams and I think Amanda shouted after me but I’ll never know.

Reports came to light later on, which differ from what I stole surprisingly, said that not everyone that had the chemical extracted had committed a Fatal Act. Two hundred thousand separate cases of people wrongly accused of fatal acts that had had the chemical extracted became completely different people. This quickly fuelled the countries news. But the country showed how fickle it could be when it forgot about the two hundred thousand after the discovery of my existence when the man who had bitten me, a ‘volunteer ‘and my creator was found. He eventually killed himself but only after revealing my full name and who I worked for. I always got teased about forgetting to remove my work badge when I left the building, maybe I should’ve listened.

I now know that I can accurately tell who will and who won’t commit a fatal act. I’m the ‘End Solution’. My creator was a prototype and the ‘End Solution’ can determine who’ll commit a fatal act and deal with it accordingly. They are completely unbiased as the chemical has never ‘Soiled their blood stream’. I’ve never had the chemical in my system so I’d never commit a fatal act which is why he chose me. He was the last experiment to go wrong and when he bit me I became the first one to go right.

They want me to return so badly and will do anything they can to help. I know that if I do return, they will apparently make me a ‘national hero’. All I can see in being a ‘national hero’ is being experimented on no matter how they sugar coat it. I’m not turning out like my creator or the two hundred thousand and why should I? With the power I have, I could rule the world.

I’ve been roaming around now for the past three months. I fed on a few people who had strong chemical smells coming from them and who turned out to be career criminals. I can walk near people, who all smell divine, and not attack them but I can only do this for six hours or so before wanting to drink them all. The only time I’ll be able to return is when I’m in complete control. Whatever they did to my creator has consequently made me gain muscle and my senses are much sharper. Thinking of which, I can smell them again. How did they find me? ‘