Three Wishes…

Why three? Well, I’m greedy. But if I could have three wishes for next year they would have to be these…

1. To have the ability to make small talk… I would love to talk to people without having to go through a huge rigmarole of trying to find something interesting and failing.

“So how are you Kate?”

“Oh, I’m fine…”

Big pause where I smile and look around. Not meeting the persons eyes.

“Well it was good seeing you.”

“You too,” I say.

That is the problem. By the time I know someone well enough to talk to them they have already formed an opinion. Don’t get me wrong if I am meeting people about something then I am fine – I talk about the something.

2. To be confident in my writing and art. At the moment I pepper my family with:

“Does this look alright?”

OR

“Does this sound alright?”

I wish I could live with less reassurance. Although my family is great and they help when they can. Still, I’m sure I must get on their nerves.

3. To stop saying – “I’m sorry.” I have said it ten times today so far. I take the blame for everything, from the rain to cakes not rising.

Why? I hear you ask. The reality is I don’t know. I always have. I have had friends and family try to get me out of the habit, but I can’t, and now it so much a part of me that half the time I don’t realise I’m doing it. And it is a habit I would love to get rid of…

Well, I’ve had a look at my wishes and you know what? They can be a list of resolutions…

  1. be more outgoing
  2. be more confident in your ability
  3. only say sorry when it applies to something you have done

So there you have it. My wishes I can make come true. Wish me luck because they are going to be tricky. Especially as they are going to break a habit of a lifetime.

This prompt has been inspired by the daily prompt – brand new you, effective tomorrow.

Ideas…

I tend to write myself into an idea. Even the Dark Crystal Author Quest involved me tapping away in order to find a story within the world they had created.

Sometimes inspiration comes from an image and sometimes a word… Suddenly the idea is there, glowing but just out of reach. I then use my words to net it.

Some of my favourites are red balloon and dust. Dust is written but hasn’t been published while red balloon is still in the pile – waiting.

But what makes a good idea? Well, it has to be interesting and engaging to the reader. I find it is pot luck though as to whether you hit the jackpot or not. Some of my favourite ideas people find uninteresting and others they love.

I am just about to start something new. Not sure what. The pile is huge but I will choose something I find interesting. After all, I will have to work on it for the next couple of months. I just have everything crossed that everyone else will agree with me.

This post was inspired by the daily prompt – brainwave.

Best Days? (an idea for a book)

People always told me as a child that my school days would be the best… Really? Then I can safely say that the rest of my adulthood is going to be worse than hell. My name is Colleen Norton (you have to say that in a Micheal Caine voice – it only works that way). I’m fourteen and I go to a local school. Although it looks more like a prison, all grey stone and magnolia walls. Do they design them on purpose? There must be a college somewhere that has a course – how to make the most depressing buildings ever.

I may only be fourteen but already I run a daily hell. Today I have an hour of art, which becomes a dance between me and my teacher. Teacher – that would suggest that he teaches us something. He doesn’t, instead he likes to pursue his favourites.

“Why won’t you meet my eyes?” he asks, getting so close that I’d back up if there wasn’t a desk behind me. The whole time I am aware that he is trying to peer down my top. Which is tight, adolescence has hit and you could say I am blooming into womanhood. All I can say is that it is a pain in the arse. So I do the ‘avoidance’ dance for an hour. With the obligatory photography club invite and my refusal; “I can show you photography if you want to come to the club this evening. Although I will need to show you the dark room on your own.”

Shudder. I mean really creepy and he always smells of onions. The man must eat them raw. I know that Shrek says that people are like onions and they have layers but I really don’t want to know any of his layers. Ever.

I then have an hour of maths. An easy class but I swear the teacher is suicidal. The other day I found her crying into a maths text book.

“You okay?” I asked.

“What? Oh, Colleen, it’s you. Yes, I’m fine. No actually I’m not.” This was followed by a bout of huge sobs. Turned out her husband has left her. I feel sorry for her, but her dismal gloom is really depressing.

This is followed by lunch. This is the only time I run. I have to get to the library before the whole school gets out. Why? I hear you ask. Haven’t you guessed? No?

Well, I am an empath. Basically I feel emotions but I also heighten others. Is the art teacher really a lecherous pedo? No probably not, but I heighten his inclinations and he can’t control them. Same happened with maths. She had to tell me. And me? Well, I soak up emotions until I am riddled with aches and pains and my head feels like it is going to explode.

This is an idea for a book. Inspired by the daily prompt – the new school.

Cover Art

I am bringing out a book of short stories in the new year for the kindle and I’ve been working on the artwork. I’ve come up with this…

Nightmare

Pencil crayon

nightmare smallIf you really love it then go HERE to buy it as a print, card, magnet or mouse mat. Otherwise just enjoy. 🙂

I have my other artwork for sale there too.

Art and all that

I have finally done it and create a deviant art page. I’ve also added a journal which will be about my illustration. I’ll try to pop a button on the side bar to give everyone access, otherwise you can find it HERE. Thanks. 🙂

Wish I was there…

This is a piece of flash fiction and not based on real events.

We were dying. Mostly of water deprivation, and dehydration is not the best of deaths. Firstly it hurts. Or maybe that was the starvation? I’m not certain. By the time we found it we were all hallucinating. I spent my time in my mind, surrounded by light and laughter. At times I danced in the light and laughed with the voices, but at other times I was laughed at and the light hurt, making feel as if it were burning my eyes from my head.

When we found the planet we thought it was paradise. There was plenty of food and water, and we laid waste to it. I should have known. With that first step the planet screamed at our presence. Not that we heard it.

Instead we trod across the surface with unsteady feet and with every step we drove swords into that planets heart. We were its death. We didn’t know at the time. But if you are reading this then I can tell you – sorry. The oasis is no more.

The dire truth is that we became the planet’s virus. Yet everything we drank and ate became ashes in our mouths. We left, finally, but I know we leave a wasteland, and for that I am truly sorry. We took a planet capable to keeping us forever and used it up so fast that it never had time to take a breath.

I always think that in terms of the planet, its death was swift and it shouldn’t have felt any pain, but I think this is wishful thinking. If you are reading this then I hope you are wise. If you wonder where we are, our valiant race of germs. Well, we are the dust that clings to your shoes. Because we only killed the planet for ourselves.

This is a peice of flash fiction inspired by the daily prompt – I was here.