This-stopia

I have an Instagram account (@freyathewriter). Instagram is an amazing place to be for writers – the community is great. Readers, writers and others that find themselves caught up in the web of the community are having a great, supportive time over there. I bought a book only 11 days ago that was an independent writer’s first publication – and it was excellent. If I hadn’t joined Instagram, I’d likely never have read it. Congratulations to Nicholas Crivac for getting Apotheosis to print. Take a look at his website if you want to know more!

Anyway, I digress. On my Instagram account I got involved in a conversation about how the way the world is at the moment means that any ideas us dystopian writers might develop seem to have been stolen by, or been the inspiration for, various regimes around the world (looking at you, governments of the UK and USA!). It means we have to push our plots further and harder so that they don’t just end up being non-fiction tomes. Having said that, in my experience what it has meant is that the tiny news articles that slip through when we are all being supposedly distracted by the latest scandal (which seem to focus very much on the Royal Family these days) have been the jumping off point for some quite interesting and unexpected plot twists. I can’t decide whether to be pleased or horrified at my schadenfreude. It just goes to show, we are all a messy mix of light and shade.

This takes me to my next point (I did have a plan for this blog post, honest). I’m so focused on my burgeoning novel that other writing is taking a back seat. I’m in the throes of my first edit of my book. It’s both challenging and revealing and I find that I edit best with a cup of coffee, under the duvet, in bed (who knew?). I wonder if it’s because it reminds me of when I was a law student and the only way I could have access to all the law books I needed when writing and studying (it was before the internet!) was by spreading them out on my bed? Anyway, once I’ve made some more editing progress my flash fiction and poetry brain cells will kick back in. I do have a list of ideas, inspirations and whatnot, I just don’t want and can’t get too distracted by them for now. I used to contribute a lot to DVerse and I want to get back into that, definitely. It too is a fun place to be.

Which takes me to my final point, which is a bit of a shout out to Helena Hann-Basquiat. She too has been off the radar for a bit (I think the youth across the pond are still saying ‘a hot minute’), but I am reliably informed because I follow her and comment on her blog posts (not stalkery at all), that she is also getting back into the writing gig. I’m so pleased because (a) she’s a brilliant writer and (b) because I reaaaaaally enjoyed being part of the Jessica collaboration back in 2014. it appears that the final book in the trilogy is in the works. All being well I can unleash my really dark side on a bloody slice of this final book, if she still intends to go down the collab route with it. I have a dark dystopian soul and an even darker horror soul. And then there’s my fantasy soul too which is really quite a doozy. Anyway, all hail Helena. I’m looking forward to working with you, if you’ll have me.

There. I think I’ve written all I wanted to for now. I intend to be here on a weekly basis, every weekend, all being well. I’ll be in my dressing gown and PJs, allthough you won’t see that – or will you? Who knows who is watching and by what method?

We are in This-stopia after all…

 

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Reaping and Sowing – Five Sentence Fiction

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Kit was an utterly marvellous boy – I called him that because he seemed so young, such a rough diamond and oh! such a refreshing change from the insipid and polished eldest sons of eldest sons Father insisted I meet.

Of course, I knew it was impossible – Father would no more have let me walk out with Kit than if I had asked to marry one of the toads ringing the marshy edges of our lake.

Sadly, oh so sadly, Kit never could understand how these things worked – as far as he was concerned, an honest job meant he was an honest man, and that should be good enough for anybody, even the likes of Captain de Riviera.

It was partly my fault, I confess that now – I had no way of knowing how to handle such a virile and passionate creature, and I led him on, far too far…

Poor Kit… and not to mention, poor me.

 

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Here is my latest entry into the lovely Lillie’s Five Sentence Fiction, where she has provided this beuatiful photo for us as this week’s inspiration.

This week, my tale follows on from a flash fiction piece I wrote for VisDare, as the images seemed to work well together.

Please do visit here to read, read, read some more! No two pieces will be the same…

Time Flies – Five Sentence Fiction

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I can hear my Mum’s voice, clear and bell-like as if she is standing right next to me.

“A watched kettle never boils, Ellie!”

I shrug off the words, shoulders tight and tense, staring intently at the clock on the wall opposite – the second hand barely seems to be moving.

Time is elastic.

My patience, however, is not.

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Here is my latest entry into the lovely Lillie’s Five Sentence Fiction, where she has provided this gorgeous photo for us as this week’s inspiration. Please do visit here to read, read, read some more! No two pieces will be the same…