Hello,
theryanlanz.com, of the enjoyable The Writer’s Path blog, posted this little gem. All of them are really true.
5 Things Never to Say to a Writer – http://wp.me/p4SsOO-mfk
Author: johnrsermon
I’m a writer from Stockport, Manchester, England, who mainly enjoys writing short stories in the soft sci-fi genre. I do like writing in other genres, fantasy in particular, but I’ve settled on soft sci-fi because I enjoy adding fantastic things that could exist right now or in the near future.
I’ve been writing in my spare time since around 2001 with varying degrees of discipline. I’m always looking for ways to improve myself and my writing, and I use my blog to showcase my writing and discuss things on my mind. Every so often I’ll talk about other things in my personal life (Football – I support Manchester United, Holidays, Food, amongst others).
I enjoy writing short stories, but I have also finished a few novels and completed NaNoWriMo a couple of times. Writing makes me happy, and thankfully, I can’t see that changing any time soon.
My interest in writing began when I took a Film Studies Course at College in 2001. One of the assignments was to create a character and give him or her a back story. I did this and got some good feedback from my tutor, and I loved the feeling of creating a character from scratch.
My other interests include running and listening to rock and metal music whenever I’m running. I enjoy watching a wide range of films and TV to relax. The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly is my favourite film, and Arcane is my favourite TV show. My favourite authors are Giles Kristian, J.R.R Tolkien, JK Rowling, Bret Easton Ellis, Gareth L Powell, and Robert Lewis Stevenson.
Thanks for reading. If you like the sound of the above, I’d be more than happy to discuss all manner of writing-related stuff. See my contact page for details.
Writing blindness. Is it a thing?
For the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to get feedback for my immortal around Manchester (England) story ‘Do I have parents at all’? I have had varying degrees of success with this. But the success I’ve had has been very useful.
This success has come in the form of some very useful pieces of feedback that have opened my eyes to something that, if I wasn’t so biased towards how good I thought my story was to notice it, was staring me in the face; A different ending to my story. Each piece of feedback had the same theme that the ending wasn’t believable or that the reader needed more information to believe it. On each occasion, I pondered if what I was being told was just the reader not reading clearly enough or if the current ending to my story was too far-fetched.
Turns out, it was the latter.
Reading through my story’s end again, which has my hero become one of 21 supreme overlords of the world, made me realise that no amount of explanation could make my ending realistic enough. But thankfully another ending came to mind almost immediately. I have since re-written the ending that suits my lead character a lot more. Turns out he wasn’t cut out for world domination. Not many people are I suppose.
This all got me thinking about all the other story’s I have written and whether their endings are correct. I admit it’s hard not to be blinded by how apparently great the first ending that I have come up is, is that writing blindness?, but I think it’s something I’ll have to get over. I am now a lot happier with the new ending I have come up with and may test it out on people in future. I continued to think that at no point have I questioned any of my endings accept for a time travel story I wrote a few months ago. I’ve mostly just taken them as being what’s best for the story. I have a lot of endings to look back over and possibly change. Though I might just write alternate endings for all of them, regardless of how I feel about the first one, and then take it from there.
With all this in mind, I ask you this, do you write one ending for your story’s or do you have several in mind before or after you’ve written them?
Have a good week. Bye!
An interesting question following some very useful feedback.
Hello
I recently decided to put my short story ‘Do I have parents at all?’, which is about a 114 year old immortal man living in modern day Manchester, England trying to find his true calling, onto the writing feedback website www.critquecircle.com. The idea of this wonderful piece of the internet is that you have to critique other authors work to gain credits. These credits can then be used to buy a place for your story to be critiqued on their website. It’s a simple idea that has given me a lot of useful feedback over the years and has allowed me to read some brilliant prose as well. And my latest venture into the critique circle world has carried on this trend.
A reviewer by the name of ‘Fergie’ (Who is Scottish and is a brilliant name for obvious Manchester United related reasons) decided to read my little tale and provide feedback. Amongst the many things he provided was a closing comment about how he was unsure whether or not he would buy my story if it came to his attention on a book shop shelf. ‘Fergie’ was unsure in its current form if he would buy it.
This got me thinking about how important the first line of a story is and also how important the first page can be as well. If I was looking to buy a book I would read the first page and look at the synopsis before deciding to buy it so I asked myself, is the first page of my story eye catching enough to be bought?
I have to be honest and say I don’t think it is. It could be better. And using ‘Fergie’s’ and other’s feedback I hope to make it good enough. With this in mind…
What do you think? Here is the first page only of my short story and all I want to know is would you buy the rest of my story after reading it? Either way I would really appreciate your feedback. Thank you in advance if you decide to read and comment on it. If not, have a good week in whatever it is you end up doing. Bye!
‘
I have walked the Earth for one hundred and fifteen years but the questions still remain. Where is the First? We should have some kind of connection should we not? Why am I here? Do I have parents at all?
Waking up on the ground of a forest is as much as I can ever remember about my birth. Which is more than anybody else I am sure. That first year is fragmented but there is enough to piece together the story. My story. The story of my birth or my…come now brain, let us do this dance again it may help this time around.
I am born into existence and I grow, develop, and so on until eventually I am found by that rich family and raised for a while until I age too fast and spend the rest of my first year between families. Next comes another year living with various well-meaning poor families who all end up abandoning me but, with reluctant thanks to the rich, I am prepared. By this point, I am the equivalent of a ten year old boy and I find an orphanage and live there for a year through threats and the bending the owner’s superstitious beliefs.
And so, after three actual years upon the Earth and I look fifteen. Each year equals five years until I am thirty, and then I stop growing. I just stop. But why? I travel, I learn, I earn, I frighten, as the anger builds within me and I continue to ask myself why? But remember Henry, take the best parts from life and forget the rest. You promised to stop doing this to yourself! Distraction. It is an overcast Saturday night and I will use it to take my mind off things. Manchester is the best place I know. The streets and buildings are drenched in history. I love how new and at the same time old the whole place looks and feels. The night is starting to get into full swing with people everywhere and I find myself walking inside a bar I do not recall the name of and I do not care to check. I just wish I had a friend I could share this with though I made my peace with that years ago. I will live, I always do.
“Same again?” I forget his name.
“Yes please. Thank you.” I wish these two drunken men would move from the bar. You have your drinks so why are you still here? It is time for the old nudge and move technique. I am glad I committed to the gym all those years ago.
“Hey Handsome, why do you get preferential treatment?” Handsome? Wait…I know that look. She is just after a drink. Women. I have given up trying to work them out. Some say handsome, some say ugly. I do remember one young lady telling me that my light stubble and blue eyes complimented my slightly square jaw and that I must keep my hair short and messy as tall men do not suit long hair. Of all the things I have heard why do I remember what women say about me the most? “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yes. Sorry I got distracted. My girlfriend should be here any moment.” And she is gone. I must stay focused. I cannot fall behind on my schedule. I am sure the First is in Manchester. But how can I be sure? How is it possible that I have not found him, or her, after all of this time?
‘
A holiday is what this writer needed!
Hello,
I didn’t realise it had been this long since my last post. Oh dear. Though my reason is a just one for not updating my little corner of the universe. I had a wedding to attend in Cyprus. How hard life must be for you? You may ask. Well, it was an amazing place to go to and the wedding was out of this world. I didn’t want to leave.
Although, when I did get back, and after attending another wedding on the same day we landed back home in England, I felt suddenly refreshed when it came to my thoughts about my writing. In truth, I had been feeling quite sluggish recently and that it was a struggle to get myself to write. And to update this blog of mine. But after a holiday, I feel ready to kick on and write, edit, and read whatever. I also found that seeing two couples get married made me think about my life and my goals. It made things a lot clearer and one of those things was getting back to doing what I love, and that is to write, edit, and read whatever!
With my refreshed self I have pushed on and have been writing my western story. I’m moving closer to the pivotal moment for my main character when he has to decide what he wants to do and what kind of man he wants to be. You see, he’s been running from his past for years and has become a seasoned gunslinger. But what is it all for? Should he just go around from town to town righting wrongs? What if he wants to just work all day, get drunk, pass out and wake up and lie in without any bounty on his head or worry over his shoulder to constantly look out for? As I have been writing this post and my western tale I have been trying to work this out. I’ll get there eventually. I’ve got all the action sequences and twists and turns in my head already but I just need a bridge to connect to them. I don’t fancy just running and jumping and hoping for the best. I’ll let you know how I get on of course.
Ok. This has been cool as always but I must get back to it, the voices are yelling at me again to do so. I hope you all have a good week doing whatever you do.
Bye
If one road fails, try another.
Hello
The last couple of times out I have requested feedback from you fine people on an excerpt from one of my short stories ‘Do I have parents at all?’ Now, I have only received a few pieces of feedback and they were very helpful and has helped me along. Even though I haven’t received anything more I’m not feeling too disheartened. I’ll just have to take a different road in order to get the feedback I may or may not need.
So, I’ve started back writing my western yarn about a travelling cowboy looking for a new home. It’s moving along nicely and the characters and story lines are taking shape. Up to now our hero, Benedict, has begun to settle into his new surroundings but is still worried that it all might change at any moment like has done so many times in the past. Will my western hero catch a break finally? With a love interest and a new father figure in the picture it might just happen. Though he does have to contend with a clearly jealous wannabe cowboy who has manipulated himself into owning most of the town. And it doesn’t help that our hero has already, within a day of his arrival into town, shot and injured one of the villains, Geoffrey’s, main henchmen. I have the story pretty much mapped out in my head but I’m conscious of making sure said story is not just set pieces and is an actual story.
This is something I started writing without using notes and it was a little bit daunting but I now have some good notes to help me along. I‘m filling in the blanks and now have town and supporting character names, descriptions and potential side stories that I could use. Research is also helping me attempt to get the finer points of the story, which so far is what they would eat and wear, correct. Writing down all of this needed stuff is made all the harder when I have the main set pieces of the story playing in my head. And with all the characters screaming ‘Get on with it!’ I respond, though they don’t listen, I’m trying but these things take time. But never out loud. Not yet anyway.
Those voices are screaming again so I’m going to get back to the writing. I hope you all have a good and productive writing and/or non-writing week.
Bye
Constructive Feedback Request.
Hello
So, as I mentioned in a previous post. https://johnrsermon.com/2015/07/12/andi-didnt-enter-the-competition-after-all/, here is an excerpt from a short story of mine with the working title ‘Do I have parents at all?’ The story is about a man named Henry with a very unique gift who is searching for the meaning of his existence. The full story is 5,000 words long so I’ve decided to break it up into more than two parts. And to see if I should post the rest or possibly go back to the drawing board depending on the reaction to it.
I would appreciate some constructive feedback on this and I would more than happy to do the same for you. Ok. Here it goes then.
Do I have parents at all?
I have walked the Earth for one hundred and fifteen years but the questions still remain. Where is the First? We should have some kind of connection should we not? Why am I here? Do I have parents at all?
Waking up on the ground of a forest is as much as I can ever remember about my birth. Which is more than anybody else I am sure. That first year is fragmented but there is enough to piece together the story. My story. The story of my birth or my…come now brain, let us do this dance again it may help this time around.
I am born into existence and I grow, develop, and so on until eventually I am found by that rich family and raised for a while until I age too fast and spend the rest of my first year between families. Next comes another year living with various well-meaning poor families who all end up abandoning me but, with reluctant thanks to the rich, I am prepared. By this point, I am the equivalent of a ten year old boy and I find an orphanage and live there for a year through threats and the bending the owner’s superstitious beliefs.
And so, after three actually years upon the Earth and I look fifteen. Each year equals five years until I am thirty, and then I stop growing. I just stop. But why? I travel, I learn, I earn, I frighten, as the anger builds within me and I continue to ask myself why? But remember Henry, take the best parts from life and forget the rest. You promised to stop doing this to yourself! Distraction. It is now an overcast Saturday night and I will use it to take my mind off things. Manchester is the best place I know. The streets and buildings are drenched in history. I love how new and at the same time old the whole place looks and feels. The night is starting to get into full swing with people everywhere and I find myself walking inside a bar I do not recall the name of and I do not care to check. I just wish I had a friend I could share this with though I made my peace with that years ago. I will live, I always do.
“Same again?” I forget his name.
“Yes please. Thank you.” I wish these two drunken men would move from the bar. You have your drinks so why are you still here? It is time for the old nudge and move technique. I am glad I committed to the gym all those years ago.
“Why do you get preferential treatment?” What a nice voice. And was that a twinge of flirt I heard? It is a very rare thing that the most beautiful flower in this particular orchid finds her way to me. I remember one young lady telling me that my light stubble and blue eyes complimented my slightly square jaw and that I must keep my hair short and messy as tall men do not suit long hair. Of all the things I have heard why do I remember what women say about me the most? “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yes. Sorry I got distracted. My girlfriend should be here any moment.” And she is gone. I must stay focused. I cannot fall behind on my schedule. I am sure the First is in Manchester. But how can I be sure? How is it possible that I have not found him after all this time?
*
Thank the lord I actually slept. I thought I never would. Those beers did help I suppose. I need my balcony for some fresh air.
“Where are you?” I say to no one on this crisp October morn. What time is it? I will venture out and get some food. What clothes to wear I wonder? Faded Superman t-shirt, jeans, trainers, done. This café has always been so nice and located on a back street so not many know about it. Though I am sure it will become too popular being in the Northern Quarter so I will probably need to find another personal eatery. It has happened so many times before. Maybe I should have one built myself and keep it running. I have enough money to do so. Or write a book? How can I try and figure out why I exist and what I am meant to do if the First continues to allude me? “Hot chocolate please ma’am.”
“I’ll bring it to your seat.” I have spent my whole life preparing for this quest. The money I have made and saved and the time I have spent learning and developing my skills have lead up to this moment. This point in time. I hope it has all been worth it. Dear lord I am miserable. Where did all my happy thoughts go?
“Get off my bag!!” Where is that coming from? Great. A day light robbery. I should save her I suppose and…wait.
“A up mate, don’t get involved.” Not a chance ‘mate’. And I will not listen to someone who thinks shoes with no socks in October is a suitable choice of footwear. None of his clothes fit they are all hanging off him. Maybe he wants the money for a tighter outfit.
“Sir, give her the bag.” I could attack him now. It is not like I have to worry about a bullet.
“No.” Of course he is resisting.
“Sorry mate.” That noise was deafening. He is running away. What is wrong, my lady? That pain. I remember that pain. My stomach. My…
Constructive Feedback request.
Hello
So, as I mentioned in a previous post. https://johnrsermon.com/2015/07/12/andi-didnt-enter-the-competition-after-all/, here is an excerpt from a short story of mine with the working title ‘Do I have parents at all?’ The story is about a man named Henry with a very unique gift who is searching for the meaning of his existence. The full story is 5,000 words long so I’ve decided to break it up into more than two parts. And to see if I should post the rest or possibly go back to the drawing board depending on the reaction to it.
I would appreciate some constructive feedback on this and I would more than happy to do the same for you. Ok. Here it goes then.
Do I have parents at all?
I have walked the Earth for one hundred and fifteen years but the questions still remain. Where is the First? We should have some kind of connection should we not? Why am I here? Do I have parents at all?
Waking up on the ground of a forest is as much as I can ever remember about my birth. Which is more than anybody else I am sure. That first year is fragmented but there is enough to piece together the story. My story. The story of my birth or my…come now brain, let us do this dance again it may help this time around.
I am born into existence and I grow, develop, and so on until eventually I am found by that rich family and raised for a while until I age too fast and spend the rest of my first year between families. Next comes another year living with various well-meaning poor families who all end up abandoning me but, with reluctant thanks to the rich, I am prepared. By this point, I am the equivalent of a ten year old boy and I find an orphanage and live there for a year through threats and the bending the owner’s superstitious beliefs.
And so, after three actually years upon the Earth and I look fifteen. Each year equals five years until I am thirty, and then I stop growing. I just stop. But why? I travel, I learn, I earn, I frighten, as the anger builds within me and I continue to ask myself why? But remember Henry, take the best parts from life and forget the rest. You promised to stop doing this to yourself! Distraction. It is now an overcast Saturday night and I will use it to take my mind off things. Manchester is the best place I know. The streets and buildings are drenched in history. I love how new and at the same time old the whole place looks and feels. The night is starting to get into full swing with people everywhere and I find myself walking inside a bar I do not recall the name of and I do not care to check. I just wish I had a friend I could share this with though I made my peace with that years ago. I will live, I always do.
“Same again?” I forget his name.
“Yes please. Thank you.” I wish these two drunken men would move from the bar. You have your drinks so why are you still here? It is time for the old nudge and move technique. I am glad I committed to the gym all those years ago.
“Why do you get preferential treatment?” What a nice voice. And was that a twinge of flirt I heard? It is a very rare thing that the most beautiful flower in this particular orchid finds her way to me. I remember one young lady telling me that my light stubble and blue eyes complimented my slightly square jaw and that I must keep my hair short and messy as tall men do not suit long hair. Of all the things I have heard why do I remember what women say about me the most? “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yes. Sorry I got distracted. My girlfriend should be here any moment.” And she is gone. I must stay focused. I cannot fall behind on my schedule. I am sure the First is in Manchester. But how can I be sure? How is it possible that I have not found him after all this time?
*
Thank the lord I actually slept. I thought I never would. Those beers did help I suppose. I need my balcony for some fresh air.
“Where are you?” I say to no one on this crisp October morn. What time is it? I will venture out and get some food. What clothes to wear I wonder? Faded Superman t-shirt, jeans, trainers, done. This café has always been so nice and located on a back street so not many know about it. Though I am sure it will become too popular being in the Northern Quarter so I will probably need to find another personal eatery. It has happened so many times before. Maybe I should have one built myself and keep it running. I have enough money to do so. Or write a book? How can I try and figure out why I exist and what I am meant to do if the First continues to allude me? “Hot chocolate please ma’am.”
“I’ll bring it to your seat.” I have spent my whole life preparing for this quest. The money I have made and saved and the time I have spent learning and developing my skills have lead up to this moment. This point in time. I hope it has all been worth it. Dear lord I am miserable. Where did all my happy thoughts go?
“Get off my bag!!” Where is that coming from? Great. A day light robbery. I should save her I suppose and…wait.
“A up mate, don’t get involved.” Not a chance ‘mate’. And I will not listen to someone who thinks shoes with no socks in October is a suitable choice of footwear. None of his clothes fit they are all hanging off him. Maybe he wants the money for a tighter outfit.
“Sir, give her the bag.” I could attack him now. It is not like I have to worry about a bullet.
“No.” Of course he is resisting.
“Sorry mate.” That noise was deafening. He is running away. What is wrong, my lady? That pain. I remember that pain. My stomach. My…
A few pictures and words from and about my holiday to New York.
Just as a change of pace, and because I said I would, this post is regarding my trip to New York! with my mates Paul and Leigh from 18.06.15 – 29.06.15.
It was a brilliant trip and I’d like to thank Leigh for organising it and being spot on with the directions and ideas for places to go while we were there. When I got back I immediately knew that I wanted to go back there at some point. To live. And eat pancakes and doughnuts and burgers and drink ale and learn how to drive just so I can beep and swear at people. Well, I don’t think I’d like to live there as I love Manchester to much but I would like to learn to drive specifically to let out my anger on the streets of New York!. On one occasion, I did see someone, who looked like he had the right to complain about the taxi in fronts driving, shout Get out of the way you f*ckin idiot! n a thick New York! accent. I made sure to wait until he drove off before laughing because I’ve heard and seen that on TV but to see it in real life was cool. Along with this, we went to a baseball game (the game ended New York! Yankees 10 vs Philadelphia Phillies 2), drank many beers in our New York! local The Ginger Man http://www.gingerman-ny.com/, walked EVERYWHERE, went to the Freedom Tower, Wall Street, took the Staten Island ferry, went to Soho, chilled in Central Park, had one of the best nights out I’ve ever had when we went out in Brooklyn, and did many many more things on top of that. But for right now these are just a few of the pictures I took while we were there. Hope you enjoy them and have a nice day.
And…I didn’t enter the competition after all.
Hello
So, it’s been a month or so since my last post. It could and probably should not have taken me this long to post again but here we are. After I posted on 06.06.15, I was getting geared up for a holiday to New York! For any of you who have been there I’m sure you can understand why I would be preoccupied. I went away with my two good friends Paul and Leigh for 10 nights and it was amazing. I’ll blog and brag about it another day. But for now…
The competition I was going to enter, http://www.britishfantasysociety.org/the-bfs-short-story-competition-2015/, was to close for entries on 30.06.15. Now, I was well on my way to finishing the edit for my story when the edit decided to get bigger. And then I told my girlfriend about the story and she brought up two points which I thought I had covered but as it turned out I hadn’t covered them well enough.
With all this in mind I decided not to enter the competition after all.
I did not come to this decision lightly. I knew that if I entered a story I wasn’t happy with it would have annoyed me for a daft amount of time. I will instead complete the edit and post the story in two parts on this blog and maybe www.critiquecircle.com for some more feedback. If you would like a summary of the story, please go to the following link https://johnrsermon.com/2015/06/06/finally-one-of-my-plans-is-working/ and seek out the third paragraph of that post and a summary shall be yours!
When I got back from New York! I allowed myself a few days to recover before I started writing again. When I did start again I decided to just work on my newest short story. Now, I considered starting back on the edit but the story had been rolling around in my head every time I tried to go to sleep while I was on holiday in New York! So, when I got back I wanted to try and take a full break from that so I can continue the edit with a fresh(ish) pair of eyes later on. I’ve kept up with the coming home from work and writing deal and the short story is swimming along nicely. Although, I have introduced eight more characters but I’m building the story so all is in hand. Hopefully. I will start back on my edit next week and look to change from edit to writing. Writing to editing. Week after week. And see where it takes me.
Ok. That’s me for now. I hope you all have a good week of writing and whatever else you decide to do.
Bye
Finally, one of my plans is working!
Hello
Last time out I said that I was going to write and/or edit as soon as I got home from work whilst my work brain was still on so I made sure write and/or something every day. So far it looks to have been a success. On the editing front anyway.
I’m currently in the throes of editing my story for the http://www.britishfantasysociety.org/the-bfs-short-story-competition-2015/, which is due to close for entries on 30.06.15. Now, I had already written my story and have slowly but surely over the last three been editing it into something I am close to being proud of and close to entering into the aforementioned competition. This editing has been done in small doses, maybe two or three pages at a time, but it is working. As for the other story I am writing, I’m going to put that on pause until after this one is all done and dusted and entered.
So, to the story at hand. To sum it up, it centres on an immortal man who has been roaming the earth, learning and earning as he goes, and is now searching for the meaning of his existence. Surely an immortal man cannot just come into being and wander around aimlessly? Well, that is really what he has been doing and his frustration has been given plenty of time to grow. In fact it has grown to the extent that he will break his one, self-imposed law, to try and finally find what he is looking for. But when he does find it, will it turn out to be all he has ever wanted?
Currently I’m a bit in limbo about that question. I could give him everything he wants but should it be that easy? I’m thinking it shouldn’t be so straight and clean. I am close to answering this question though. I might just flip a coin. Both endings I have in mind are as good as each other but I am a little bit biased towards one. But along with that I another little thing I have to get ironed out.
Due to my immortal man having walked the earth for 114 years he has become polite and well spoken. This means I have decided that he cannot use I’m when he should use I am. And all of the other contractions that people use in everyday life. Do you know how frustrating it is to think that you’ve gotten rid of all the I’m’s only to find there are about five more you’ve missed when you edit it again? And every edit seems to bring up more! Easy now. Calm yourself.
Well, I have successfully wound myself up. I’m going to get…I am going to get back to the edit.
Goodbye
johnrsermon 
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