Bright vivid and true
memories of us
time becomes their enemy
as it crumbles them to dust
My picture: Saltburn
I always find when I’m writing that it’s a good idea to set some goals / time frames, but it becomes increasingly annoying when they inevitably start to fall out of my grasp. Something or other always seems to get in the way and time flies at great velocity – I mean it’s SEPTEMBER ALREADY!
I have a part time job and a family, so sometimes writing takes a back seat, although like most writers I never, ever seem to stop writing in my head. Thank goodness for my phone which is always handy for me to grab and jot some notes down on. And, thank you Twitter, the place where you can share your struggles and encourage others who share your passion.
One of my habits – I haven’t decided if it’s bad yet, is buying book covers – (there are some great sites out there with very reasonable prices) coming up with a title and writing a short story around it. As I give my short stories away for free with the exception of Amazon…don’t get me going on that one, I’ve had great success with this with thousands of downloads.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, everyone’s writing experience is different, so just go with the flow and under no circumstances, ever give up…
I love blue, and since I began writing, I have come to the conclusion that I am completely and utterly obsessed with it.
Blue book covers.
Protagonists with blue eyes.
Stories set in locations close to water.
So, it got me thinking back to when this fascination with all things blue began…
I discovered most likely from birth.
I live on the coast, with a sea view, and I get a bit jittery if I’m too far away from the water. And I know why. My descendants hail from Shetland; a mixture of fisherman, merchant navy masters, and a founding member of The Shetland Times.
She tried to open her eyes, but it was an impossible task. And, she knew why.
They were both bruised, blackened, and swollen shut. If she let herself cry, the tears would have no form of escape.
In truth, she was all cried out.
He had really lost it this time…
Every other time he’d been careful not to hit her in any visible places, but something she had said or done had tipped him over the edge.
She had pretended to be asleep when he’d rolled in at 2 am. He must have been with another woman, but she was past caring.
They were welcome to him.
He was the man she thought she would settle down with, and have ‘the happy ever after’ with.
Handsome and successful.
A good guy.
All his family loved him, and his friends thought that the sun shone out of his backside.
But, she knew the other side of him.
A bone fide, first rate bastard.
Why the hell did she still fight for him?
Why did a small part of her still love him?
She had tried her best to hate him, but she couldn’t.
What sort of a weak, pathetic person did that make her?
When he wasn’t this out of control monster, he was sweet and kind. So, each time, she picked herself up and brushed herself off, and told herself it would be the last time.
He always promised that it would be.
He always lied.
She was preparing herself for the apologies, the flowers, the presents, and the crocodile tears that would undoubtedly be flowing like a river.
This time though, she had no intention of waiting around for them.
She. Was. Done.