Tag: #shortstory

Short Story – For the love of the game. Part 3.

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Saturday 18th December.

Richard made a list of chores he hoped would make the day quicker. He made swift work of it until he reached the final one.

“Go for a run.”

He warmed up as he got changed. He left the house and was at the park quickly. Running along the path and weaving his way through other people, he turned a corner and continued around the pitch. He glanced down and tripped as he stopped.  

“It’s just below the height of the grass,” he whispered.

The day was clear and cold as he examined the best he could while running. Richard ran laps off the pitch before making his way home.

Later in the afternoon, he joined his friends on a video call, and they watched the last ten minutes of the football for the day. As they finished, Richard sat back in his seat.

“That was a decent afternoon of football,” said Richard.

“Yeah, I agree,” said one of his friends. “And Richard, you seem more upbeat than usual.”

He frowned.

“Mate, in a good way. After what happened with her, on calls, you’ve been a bit quiet. Nice to hear the real you coming back.”

“I know. Sorry. She just…well. You know what she did,” said Richard.

“She let you down, mate. You’ve been friends for years, and then she gets a boyfriend two months ago and ignores you? I expected more from her.”

“Yeah, so did I,” Richard said.

As a lump built in his throat, he let his friends talk for a while. He went to exit the call.

“Rick, is that football anniversary coming up? I read something the other day.”

Richard coughed.

“It is. Tomorrow. I might pay my respects.”

He spoke for a while about the tragedy and the match before stopping.

“Mate, keep talking. We’re just glad you’re getting back to your usual self.”

An hour passed by before they signed off. Richard decided against walking to the takeaway and cooked something himself. He walked into the park afterwards. The fog had grown and was now covering the pitch. Only the trees closest to him were visible. 

He sat down on the bench, and all the while, the mist did not move.

“No training the night before,” he said.

*

Sunday 19th December.

Richard smiled as he took his morning walk. A few passers-by sent funny looks his way, but he continued on. He stopped to check the weather on his phone.

“All the fog. All the time,” he said. 

Richard stopped and surveyed the mainly white and almost smoky view in front of him. 

“I’ll come back later,” he said.

Richard lost track of time as he settled into this settee and caught up with his family over the phone. He laughed and talked as he walked around his house. The night drew in as if a curtain had sharply closed on the day as he looked out of the window. He finished his last call with his Mum before opening his French doors to his back garden. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Only the sound of cars from nearby filled his ears and he smiled. He checked the time.

He slammed the French doors shut behind him, locking them quickly and went upstairs to get changed. He double-checked he had everything, and he took a few moments to shut the front door as he left the house. As he approached North Park, he checked his watch.

“Not long,” he said.

Richard slowed and rubbed his cheeks to get some feeling back into them. The fog arched over the path and got lower as Richard made his way towards the pitch. As he had hoped, the entire pitch but not the park, was hidden beneath a thick, white mist.

“Five to midnight.”

He looked around and could see no one else. The houses surrounding the park were masked by the cloud, with only a few lights peeking through.  

“Just watch. Just appreciate,” Richard said as he sat on the bench.

His eyelids became substantial as he took a deep breath of the cold night air before shoving his hands into his pockets. As he did so, his eyes closed. The fog cleared as they reopened. A rich, green football pitch with thick white lines to mark its dimensions lay before him. Richard looked behind, and the fog made a wall around him and the field. The referee, the only man in black amongst the twenty-two players, eleven in blue and eleven in red, brought the captains of each team to the centre. He flipped a coin, and the red captain motioned that he wanted to stay on his side. All three nodded, shook hands, and the captains joined their teams. Just before he blew the whistle, the referee looked over at Richard, nodded, and put a finger to his lips.

The smile across his face rarely faded as Richard watched the game. He looked to each face, some with long sideburns and mops of hair to others with quiffs and combovers. Each face was lit up with a smile or a laugh. Richard did not fail to notice that some of the goals were spectacular. Multiple passes strung together, coupled with decent positioning and an incredible piece of skill that ended with the net rippling with satisfaction. The goalkeepers were making the occasional save as Richard sat back and laughed as the players bantered. The referee blew his whistle as another goal nestled in the back of the net.

“Full time, lads.” 

Each player shook hands and spent a few minutes chatting and hugging. Then, after each player and the referee had spoken to each other, they all returned to their starting positions on the pitch. Richard stood up. The players turned to him and gave a slight bow. He felt his bottom lip quiver as he bowed towards each team in reply. The referee walked over and put out his hand. Richard reached out, only for the referee to point at a non-existent watch. Richard frowned before falling back. He opened his eyes. The mist had returned, and the players were gone.

“Thank you,” he said, as the tears fell down his cheeks.

Short Story – For the love of the game. Part 2.

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Thursday 16th December.

Richard woke up and got ready for his morning walk. He opened the curtains, and a thin, white cloud covered his garden and the road beyond it.

Leaving his house, his eyes widened as the cold air hit his face. The night was still fierce, but the morning light peeked through. He reached North Park and stopped at the football pitch. A thin layer of mist hovered above it. He glanced at a small plaque that commemorated the tragedy and sighed. The grass crunched under his boots as he walked across it.

The fog moved around his feet. He turned and looked at the rest of the park.

“Thick fog here. Thin fog there,” Richard said.

He checked his watch and headed home to start work.

His working day flew by, and he stood up, stretched, and went downstairs. He glanced out of the window and paused. His garden had a light sprinkling of snow, which melted into mist before his eyes.   

“Can’t be,” he said.

He shook his head. When he looked back, snow rested on his neighbour’s garden while his remained covered in mist.

*

Friday 17th December.

He re-read the same few articles regarding the crash as he worked.  

“Richard, are you okay?” said his manager.

He blinked and sat forward.

“Sorry. My connection went funny,” Richard said.

A few members of the team nodded, and a conversation followed. Richard closed his personal laptop out of sight.

The meeting ended, and his watch ticked over to lunchtime. He closed his work laptop and opened his personal one.

“Come on!” he said, punching the air, “For each anniversary, the weather around the park was the same. Thick fog and barely visible conditions. Commented as being almost the same as those from that fateful day.” 

His working day ended, and he ordered a takeaway, killing some time before taking a late-night walk.      

A few cars passed by, as did a few people walking their dogs. Soon, he reached the park. The fog settled calmly on top of the pitch, and Richard sat on the bench pitch side. He watched as the fog changed. Wisps, twirls, and divots appeared before whipping into a circle and settling back down.

“Are they training? They did train on a Friday,” he whispered.

His eyelids became heavy.

‘He can watch the game. Could be a nice change.’

‘As long as he stays quiet. No noise. Just watch. Just appreciate.’

‘Kick-offs at five to midnight on Sunday, lad.’

Richard’s eyes shot open. The fog was still.  

He sat up and stared into the mist.

“I’ll be here,’ he said. 

Romance Webinar and What I took from it.

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Hello everyone,

I hope you’ve had a good week so far.

On Wednesday, 22/02, I (virtually) attended a webinar entitled ‘How to write Romance that Stands Out’ via Reedsy and hosted by Michelle Hazen (https://michellehazenbooks.com/). This was a really useful and informative webinar about how to approach writing a romance story and some tips about how to make it all pop off the page.

I’ve been thinking about writing a romance story for a while now, and this webinar has put me on the right track.

The webinar discussed providing three things to clarify a story; Make it Specific. Make it Personal. Make it Visual.

Following these main tips as you write your story can help it become more unique. And in a genre that has regularly been a top many a best-selling list, this could be crucial. The webinar also detailed 7 principles to follow as you are writing. These are:

  1. Meet Cute – How your characters meet and make it unique.
  2. Demonstration of Value – Show, don’t tell something about the love interest that makes them more attractive to the other.
  3. What are your readers expecting? – Give them what they want. Which, amongst other things, is that the two love interests get together at the end of the story.
  4. Flipping Stereotypes and Genre shortcuts – How to do things that don’t conform to usual stereotypes of shortcuts for the Romance genre.
  5. Time for date night – Think outside the box for what the character’s first date will be and how it happens.
  6. Mid-Book Reversal – Big change mid-way through the story that keeps things interesting. For example, the couple breaks up when one decides to make the decision thinking it’s best for the other.
  7. Grand Gesture – Make it personal, show time and effort, and something symbolic of the relationship.

For the entire webinar, please visit the following link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2D_DjKSLdFc&t=7s.

The main thing I took away from this was that to make your story stand out, it should be as unique and specific as possible. Say, instead of having the two main love interests meet on a date in a coffee shop or bar, how about they meet another way? By accident or on a rock-climbing holiday or when you, and they, least expect it?

These types of things happen all the time in real life. For example, you decide to do something slightly different on your lunch break from work and suddenly discover a new place to eat or a new route to walk. It’s a small example, but you get the point. Why not have your characters do something different to what you might do in their shoes and see what happens?  

Currently, my love interests meet in a coffee shop and bond over a common interest. Not until later do they realise they work in the same company and are not particularly fond of each other from a work perspective. I have already written a short story for this, and I’m excited to flesh out the details and see where it takes me. The webinar has helped me in that respect and will guide me until it’s done.

I’ll end with a question, how do you try and make your Romance Story unique?


The Desk or the Lap?

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Hello everyone,

I hope you’re well.

Recently my weeks have been filled with trying to get into a new writing routine. Or at least back into my old one. I attempted NaNoWriMo 2022 and finished on 36k words. I’m happy with that. More than happy. And although I missed the target (50k words) along the way, I’ve found that writing on my laptop while on my actual lap is my favoured way to get things done.

I work from home 2-3 days a week, and the thought of finishing and returning to the same desk to write on my personal laptop doesn’t fill me with much joy. It makes writing a chore, which I definitely don’t want AT ALL. Writing is in my heart. Forever. So, just the act of writing directly to the laptop, either on my lap or on a different part of my desk or in my house, has helped a lot. Seems simple, but it’s a game-changer for me.

And I’m looking to start writing using a pen and paper as well.

I have plenty of notepads and got a nice new fancy pen for Christmas, so writing a story entirely on a notepad looks to be the logical choice. Though, I’m not sure my hands can handle it. At work, when I make any notes that go over a few sentences, I can feel my hand begin to cramp up. Which is a bit scary but understandable. I do mainly type at work, and notes are few and far between. Having said that, I have begun to write in my new notepad, and my hand is holding up well.

I completed a short story writing course last year, and one of the assignments was to write a story in a genre different from my usual (soft sci-fi). I decided to write a romance and loved it. I didn’t think I would, but putting the thing together, about a man meeting a woman in a coffee shop and bonding and later falling for each other over their shared love of a particular author was brilliant. So, I’ve started to write the whole thing on one of my notepads. This one, in fact:

(Also, The Dark Crystal rules, by the way)

I’ve noticed I’ve had to slow down my writing pace, as when I try to write as quickly as I’m thinking, the words turn to scribbles. On a laptop, it’s not a problem, but handwriting is another animal. I’ll get there.

This all leads to me ask a question to finish the post. It would be great to hear what you think.  

Do you like to write on your laptop, or do you prefer via a keyboard linked to a monitor?

Where to next?

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Hope you’re all well.

I am coming to the end of a very productive Short Story Course (https://www.writers-online.co.uk/writing-courses/courses/short-story-course-first-edition/). The course covers various areas, including ‘Shaping Your Characters’, ‘Narration and Dialogue’, ‘Writing Style’ and more. I’ve been paired with a tutor, Lesley Eames (https://lesleyeames.com/), who has been helpful and provided some very useful feedback. Several things she has advised will stay with me for as long as I write.

Amongst those things was something that makes so much sense but has never been advised to me before. That is:

The tag for dialogue is part of the sentence.

More than likely, that sounds standard to most, but it’s new to me. After the dialogue, you put a comma before the ‘he said’ or ‘she said’ part. I’ve never been told that or come across it before in feedback or otherwise. It makes sense, but I find it strange it’s never crossed my path. One of the many benefits I’ve seen from doing a course on the craft of writing. I never want to stop learning things like this.

I’ve made plenty of notes and devoured all the feedback that Lesley has provided me. But she commented just before I started my current and penultimate course unit, ‘The Writer at Work’, which covers the writer actually doing the work. She said:

This will be the penultimate assignment in the current course, but it’s possible to book some extension assignments if you feel it would be helpful to continue to receive feedback on your writing. Alternatively, you might consider the challenge of a new course such as Fiction, which deals with longer stories, or Crime Writing. Another possibility is to submit work under the critiquing scheme.

             This got me thinking, where to next?

             I’ve always wanted to write a story or two using all the experience I’ve gained from working in the banking sector, which is around 18 years now. The ideas have always been there. But, as I enjoy writing Fantasy and Sci-Fi related stories, I didn’t know how to mesh the two together. And I preferred to write Fantasy and Sci-Fi that in no way involved my working life and to keep things separate. I’m not sure why, but I think it may have been a way of keeping my two worlds apart.

But then, an idea emerged.

This came about when I started to write my journal. The idea revolves around the banking industry and magic. I’m still working it out, but I’m enjoying it, and I’ve started to write it each day on my writing note app Evernote. Well, it’s now almost every day, but it’s moving along nicely.

I am making notes on the story as I go, which isn’t the usual way I like to work, but I’ll stick with it now. If you’d like to know more, see my previous post for more details(https://johnrsermon.com/2021/09/25/a-journal-to-start-and-stop/).

             This idea got me thinking about all the other ideas I’ve had and more so the ones I’ve turned into stories of varying lengths. And what to do with those stories in particular. The one part of Writing Life that alludes to me is being published. I won’t lie; seeing my name on a book I’ve created being published on any scale would be a dream come true. But, how do I accomplish this?

             This thought pushed me to sign up for another course, ‘How to Make Money from your Writing’. I’m hoping to learn a lot from this and take a big step in my writing life. 

             With this in mind, what further writing education have you done? Can you recommend any writing courses?  Please comment below. I’m interested to hear from you.  

The Bigger Picture (Part 2)

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He woke up as his head flopped down onto his chest. He rubbed his neck as he adjusted in his seat, accidentally kicking the pizza on the floor. The clock said two in the morning, and he checked his phone and multiple messages stared back at him. His phone rang.

‘Hello mate, hey congratulations and all that,’ Robert said as he answered.

‘Thanks, mate. You didn’t answer any of our messages before. You usually respond quickly. I was getting worried. You, okay?’

‘Yeah, mate. Well…’ Robert hesitated as he searched for the right words in the dark. He stood up and walked towards the lines of moonlight that stretched across his carpet before moving closer to the window and staring out through the blinds. ‘That date from Friday didn’t work out.’

‘Ah. No worries, mate. They’ll be more where that came from. What was the reason this time? You know what, who cares—her loss. You’re a good guy. Her loss.’

‘Thanks, mate. And Happy Birthday, by the way. Forgot to tell you last week,’ Robert said, standing up a little straighter.

‘Not a problem. You’ve wished me the best for other years. I don’t think much of turning thirty-five anyway. You did a few months ago, how was it?’

‘Average at best.’

‘See? Anyway, I’m off to bed. I’ve only had one drink mate but, I love you. I’ll speak to you later.’

‘You too, mate. See you later,’ Robert said, putting the phone down. He looked at the dark screen in his hand before looking back out at the moon. He glanced around his front room before throwing his phone onto the settee, closing the blinds, and going to bed. (282 Words – Part 2)

*

The next day he came downstairs and frowned at his phone on the settee. He pocketed it and went into the kitchen.

Later that day, he was working on his laptop when a ringing tone came out of it. He flinched before realising it was a video call. He answered and adjusted his laptop and the camera as he did so.

‘Hello son, how’s Sunday treating you?’

‘I’m good, Dad. Since when did you learn how to use video calling?’

‘Since your brother taught me a few weeks ago. Can you hear me, okay?’

‘I can, Dad. Coming through loud and clear.’

Robert chatted with his father, struggling to know where he should look (at my face? at his face? somewhere in between?) before his Mum joined in. Closely followed by his brother. The conversation settled into a rhythm that brought a small smile to Robert’s face.

‘We should do this every week. What do you think, Rob?’ his brother said.

Robert stuttered. ‘Why? I’m only a few miles away from you all?’

‘So? We don’t get to see you that often anymore.’

‘Sure. Weekly video calls sound good. Or even just conversations via massager would be fine. What do you think, Mum and Dad?’

‘Sounds great. I…,’ said Dad.

‘No. I can never get those things to work,’ interrupted his Mum. Thus began a long conversation about how she thought video calls work against how everyone else knew they did. At times Robert just sat back and smiled. (546 words)

The rest of Robert’s day moved along at a smooth pace. Leaving his phone in his bedroom to charge, he cleaned his flat from top to bottom and did all his washing and ironing to cover the coming week.

Later that evening, he sat down at his dinner table to eat his reheated takeaway. As he got halfway through, he remembered his phone was upstairs. After retrieving it and sitting back down at his table, it buzzed and buzzed for around ten seconds. Several messages greeted him, all referencing a night out from his friends. Robert hovered his thumb over the keyboard and began to type.

“Just us five. Not been on a night out like that in ages,” one message read. Robert hesitated and then continued typing.

“No other halves then?” He sent the message and then quickly started to type a second message, “Because I’m not that bothered if” but did not have time to send it as more messages came through.

“Just us five. Like it was in the beginning?” read another message.

“Really? Okay. Great. I’m looking forward to it. I mean, I look forward to our usual nights out with other halves included,” Robert sent. He smiled as they ignored it, and the buzzing kept on going as a plan began to form.

“Cool. Meet at seven o’clock in the pub on Friday,”

“Looking forward to it,” Robert responded. He went back to his food before his phone buzzed again, and he glanced down mid-bite. Caroline’s name flashed up. He scanned her message, which was made up of several excuses and half compliments, before deleting it and messaging another friend to see if he was free for a call. As his friend replied, he rang him and smiled as he answered. 

The Bigger Picture (Part 1)

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Robert just managed to get the last train home, and once he reached his stop, he jumped off and ran the mile to his house to get out of the rain. After throwing his sopping wet coat on the comfy chair opposite, he planted himself on his settee. He took a deep breath and looked at his phone. His thumb hovered over the send button. Is it too soon? Did I come across too desperate or needy? She seemed to enjoy the date, didn’t she? He thought. Before he could send anything, his phone buzzed in his hand. Two messages flashed up; one from a friend and the other from his date, Caroline.


‘Sorry, mate. I’ll look later,’ Robert said. He opened Caroline’s message, and almost as soon as he did, he sat back with a thud and let out a sigh.

‘You’ve met someone else? We just went out? Did you meet someone on the tram home?!’ he said. He messaged back and threw his phone onto the floor before putting his head in his hands. His phone buzzed again, and he almost flew out of his seat to pick it up.

‘Congratulations,’ he said, with an empty feeling hitting his stomach as he sat on the floor. He looked blankly at the picture he had been sent of his friends’ engagement. He flopped his head back against the settee and stared at the ceiling.

*

The following day, he woke up early but left his bed late. As he eventually rose for the day, the clothes from the previous night had dried where they lay on the edge of the bed. As he put the now dry clothes back on, wondered what the stale scent was before realising it was him, or rather, his clothes. He shrugged at that and the pile of work shirts on the floor before cleaning his teeth. He opened his front door and squinted at the sun light as he stepped outside to go for a walk.

The heat was light and calming on the back of his neck as he approached a small park and found a bench. He settled in and took out his phone and called his mother.

‘Sorry, Mum. I meant to call you a few days ago,’ he said. She accepted his reason, and they chatted for the next ten minutes.

‘So, how did your date go last night?’ his Mum said. Robert shifted in place as he contemplated the question.

‘Oh…it didn’t go so well. I don’t know what happened,’ he replied. He then went through what had happened the previous night. He took a deep breath partway through to stop his bottom lip from quivering. ‘That was my tenth date in three months, Mum. The reasons are getting numerous and off-putting.’

‘Never mind. I’m sure you’ll meet a nice girl one of these days. You’re a lovely boy.’

‘Thanks, Mother.’

They chatted for ten more minutes before she had to go. Robert could hear a door opening and a few voices in the background before the phone went dead. He slowly put his phone away and sat back on the bench. Over the next few hours, he rested his hand on his pocket over his phone. Several times he went to take it out but resisted. He people-watched and observed different couples out of the corner of his eye as they walked by. He smiled and turned away each time. The clouds over head started to darken and he stood up to head home.

‘Six o’clock? So be it,’ he said. He ordered a takeaway not long after getting home. He settled onto the settee and his eyes widened as he realised the data on his phone was not switched on. He smiled as he turned it back on, but the smile faded as his phone became quieter with each passing second.

He idly scrolled through his phone’s gallery until he frowned at a picture of a couple with one pushing their hand towards the camera. He gasped as he remembered. He sent a response to his friend, saying he was happy for him and them both. A few separate conversations started up across the messaging group, and his thumb hovered over the keyboard to respond. He glanced at it and could see his name in some of the messages, but he did not answer.

‘What am I watching? Where is the remote?’ he said. The doorbell rang, and he retrieved his pizza. He settled back down again and devoured one slice before putting the box of food on the floor.

Possible Perfectionist

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I think I’m very close to being a perfectionist. About 100% as per the graph below:

I’ve known this for a while, but I don’t always apply the 100% to everything I do. Just the essential things in my life like my fiancé, family, and friends. And my writing

Anyway, I’m currently in the middle of an Assignment as part of the Short Story Writing Course I’m completing. This was purchased via The Writing Magazine (https://www.writers-online.co.uk/writing-courses). So far, I’ve worked my way through five sections of the eight that make up the course. Those are First Principles, Shaping Your Characters, Characters and Plotting, Narration and Dialogue, and Writing Style. Each has its own assignment, and you’ve got as much time as you need to complete them. Well, not all the time, but they are pretty casual about the timescales but recommend getting into a routine while doing the course to help you gain the most from it. 

The latest section, Writing Style, has set an assignment to write in 1,000 words a story that builds a strong sense of atmosphere and/or place. When I was given this assignment, I’ll admit it seemed a bit daunting to me and a little bit scary. I had a rough idea of how I would do it, but I wasn’t sure if I’d ever done it before. But I must’ve done. Right?

I’ve finished First Drafts for Novels and Short Stories so far in my Writing Career and created the atmosphere I needed to tell my story correctly. So, why am I scared now?

Not sure, really. I think it’s because I’ve never sat down and just written a piece that only focuses on creating a sense of anything. Let alone atmosphere and/or place. I knew that I had to come up with some ideas, but what to use?

In my previous assignments, I’ve used such scenarios as manager-team member conflict (Conflicting Characters – Characters and Plotting) Friends living together (Narration and Dialogue – Three-Way Conversation). Still, I didn’t want to just revisit these as that seemed too easy.

Then, it hit me. I really enjoy writing fight and battle scenes, so why not use this? The sense of atmosphere within a battle (I imagine) is strong and can change (again, I imagine) quickly. I settled on my scenario for my assignment, now to write it.

That went quite well. I crafted a piece about a soldier fighting demons as part of an army. Looking like they are on top, only to have the demons retreat as a bigger foe, one they are even petrified of, came into the picture. This allowed me to change the atmosphere from happy and carefree (Winning the battle) to fear and dread (Probably going to lose the battle) midday through the story.

I considered rewriting the story and focusing all 1,000 words on one sense of atmosphere. But I preferred the challenge of conveying the shift in atmosphere partway through—about halfway to be exact. Then I considered changing it. I always edit my assignments, even though I’m looking for feedback, so if I didn’t, it would be fine.

But, I’m a writer. I’m not wired like that at all.

And thus, began weeks and weeks of edits that have become never-ending. Now, I’m aware this is part of my writing life, and that’s fine but, how far should I go with an edit for a Writing Course Assignment? Or should I just send it off and see what happens?

This leads me to a question.

Whilst completing a short piece of writing for submission (1,000 to 2,000 words) to be submitted, would you send the first draft of your assignment or edit it before submission?

Creative Spark during Lockdown.

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Recently, I’ve been thinking about how I can improve my writing. The lockdown has provided me with plenty of time to not write, but when I have found the time it has been fruitful but not as productive as I would have thought. I started thinking of how I could improve my situation, but I wasn’t sure how and hoped for something to spark my interest. Some kind of inspiration to jump out and slap me in the face. Well, maybe not that because that would hurt but perhaps a nudge or tap on the shoulder. Nothing was happening until I received an email from ‘Writers Online’ (https://www.writers-online.co.uk/writing-courses) which is linked to my ‘Writing Magazine’ subscription. They advertised several courses in different areas, publishing, novel writing, selling your work, but one caught my eye.

Short Story Writing Course.

Now, I’ve been writing short stories for years and reading all kinds of different articles and blog posts on the subject but never took the time to learn the basics. This ever so slightly annoyed me but I only have myself to blame. I consider myself a writer but, after starting this course, a writer that still has a lot to learn.

The course is broken up into 8 units and an assignment that links to each one. You are assigned a tutor to guide you along the way based on your level of experience and writing interests. Mine has provided some valuable feedback on the stories I have written for the first 2 assignments. These were to write a story dealing with conflict (Love conquers All or Man or Woman versus loneliness) and to write a story about an out of work character searching for employment. Each required me to use skills learnt from the accompanying unit. I have learned so much already including how vital a theme/message is to my stories and how-to layout out a short story beginning, middle, and end. Both of these points are things I have considered previously but not put nearly as much thought into as I believed. Though annoying, I am not dwelling on it (well, maybe a little) and aim to improve from here and most likely make more significant strides than I have before.

When I first read about a message driving my story, I immediately thought back to a short story I had completed 6 months ago. Although I like it, it has no theme. It’s just…something that happened. When I thought about it, I didn’t really care about either of the main characters. After the first unit, First Principles of Writing a Short Story, I made plenty of notes about potential improvements. Mainly, what the theme will be and how the characters will develop along with their conflicts. I did all this after reading only the first few pages of the course.

It may seem obvious to learn the basics before tackling anything in life, but it is something I have overlooked. From here, things can only get better for me as a writer. Hopefully.

Have a good day, and thanks for reading!

The Hunt: Part 3.

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https://johnrsermon.com/2020/01/27/the-hunt-part-1/

https://johnrsermon.com/2020/01/30/the-hunt-part-2/

The hunters scaled the car wall and onto the road. Their target moved at high speed down the middle as cars calmly drove to the sides. Sam and John smiled as they received cheers from the crowd. The lizard screeched back at them before jumping down from the road and into trees nearby losing the helicopters in the process. The hunters warned off the people with their cameras on the ground from following them as they kept chase.

“You talk to me about putting the public in danger? Oh, my days! Your aim is all over the place, and you fire bullets like they’re going out of fashion.” Said Sam.

“I’m firing the bullets to keep the target in my sights. It keeps feigning to go up a tree, and I keep stopping it. Unlike you and your archaic bow and arrow. Your arrows aren’t even sticking into the trees.” Replied John. Sam elbow barged John out of the way and smiled as he fell to the ground. John glared at Sam as he ran off. The lizard had now climbed a nearby tree and was moving quickly between the branches to stop Sam from getting a clear shot. Sam withdrew an arrow, but before he was able to fire, John speared him in the back with his shoulder and knocked the arrow out of his hand. Sam rose quickly and flew at John with carefully placed punches and kicks, which John was able to parry, but when he tried to retaliate each attack did not land and was pushed away. Each hunter was equal to the other, and as they fought, the lizard slowed down and stopped still in his tree and watched for a while. It slowly descended and continued to watch from the forest floor with its head twitching in different directions before stopping still again and calmly watching the fighting hunters.

“You really are predictable.” Said John as he kicked at Sam’s head only to miss as Sam spun on the ground and tried to land his kick, which John swiped away with a stiff forearm.

“How can you say that? The same person trained us. That makes no sense.” Sam said as he pushed John away and jumped into the air to try and land a punch from above. He missed as John took two steps backwards. “You are basically a blonde version of me.”

“You wish. You’re a brunette version of me.” John said. “And I didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t you lie to me.” Sam said.

“He’s not lying.” Said a smooth voice from next to them. They stopped fighting and watched open-mouthed as the lizard morphed into a twelve-foot-tall man-lizard and stood on its back legs.

“Did you know they could do that?” Said Sam.

“No. Not at all.” Said John.

The man-lizard grabbed both men by the back of their heads and smashed them together. He recoiled and squinted as the crunching sound filled the trees and scattered some nearby birds. He then grabbed Sam’s hands and closed his eyes. Two huge black and green limbs changed into human arms and hands matching Sam’s. He carefully grabbed Sam’s bow and an arrow and fired one through John’s eye. He then took John’s hands and waited for the change to happen again. Once complete, he grabbed one of John’s guns and shot Sam through an eye. He placed the relevant weapons in Sam and John’s hands before looking carefully in John’s bag. The man-lizard found John’s spare bullets before searching Sam and locating all of his remaining arrows.

“Thanks for the chase and the fun, gentleman. And for the ammunition.” He said nodding in appreciation to the prizes he had just collected. With both eyes closed, he changed back into a lizard and disappeared into the night.