Happy Wednesday everyone, and thank you for joining me on my monthly writerly rambling post.
Today I would like to talk about a very exciting WIP, The Grit and the Wit.
This is about to be a fantastic short story collection written half by my writer friend Maggie Melville and half by me (we are thinking of alternating the stories).
Maggie and myself met at Whitefield library about five years ago, when we had joined a creative writing class. We all used to read our stories out, Maggie’s were always brilliant and somewhat ‘gritty’ compared to mine.
So far, Maggie has written a heart-wrenching story involving a boat and a story about a young girl from the point of view of her mother. It’s chilling, trust me. I can’t wait to read the finished product (no pressure, Maggie!)
I am still writing and polishing mine. So far I have a story about a mantel-piece clock passing judgement on the house owner. One about the Orangemen march in Southport and one about a tom-cat with several owners.
Interestingly, we are both thinking of a garden-themed story. There is so much you can do with gardening – which reminds me, the recent rain in Manchester has sprouted many, many weeds on my front path …
No doubt, I will be telling you all about the progress of our project over the next few months. Do not worry, the fourth book in the Curmudgeon Avenue series ‘The Ghosts of Curmudgeon Avenue’ is also on the way.
Now for a snippet of one of the short stories about a KISS fan and a cancelled concert:
When I get back on the tram, I am joined by some day time drinkers on their way home. The noise has returned, but I don’t feel like talking after what I’ve just read. A bloke about my age wearing trainers and a Happy Mondays T-shirt breaks away from his mates and sits next to me.
‘You ok, love?’ He says, taking a sip of his can of beer. I say nothing. ‘Sorry, it’s just that you look sad, I thought I’d better say hello, make sure you’re alright.’
‘Yes, I’m… I’m sorry’ I don’t know what to say. The bloke shouts to one of his mates, who turns out to be his brother.
‘Brother! Bruv! Got any more cans in your pockets? This lady…’ He gives me a sideways glance as if to double check I’m female… ‘She needs a can of beer to cheer her up!’
One of them shouts over, pulling his fingers and thumb into the sign of the horns.
‘Aww it got cancelled didn’t it?’ Like we’ve got something in common. They all come and pile on the seats around me. They’ve been to a tribute do for the victims. I feel even more guilty now. The first bloke puts his arm around me, and my hair gets tangled in my studded jacket.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll cheer you up. We are from Manchester, and this is what we do, innit?’
We will keep you posted, happy writing and reading everyone. See you next month for my next writerly-rambling. Here is a picture of some flowers from my garden: