Valentine Flash Fiction #1: After The Sunset

Prompt: Love, romance.

Word count: 250.

Not the easiest of prompts, but my volunteer did pull them from a hat so what more can I ask?

 Ever wonder what happened after the cowboy saved his damsel and rode off into the sunset?

After The Sunset

The night’s activities couldn’t have gone more wrong.

John helped Jane down from his trusty steed, and swept her into his arms. Jane clung to him in fright, for no one had ever picked her up before. He tried to soothe her with kisses, but couldn’t quite reach her lips. She didn’t realise what he was trying to do, for she was too busy trying to spit a bug out of her mouth.

John shifted Jane’s weight and nearly dropped her. She shrieked in his ear and swatted at another insect tangled in her windswept hair. John staggered towards his little ranch house. He was used to hog-tying people and slinging them over his shoulder, not carrying them in his arms.

Jane shrieked again when John stepped over the threshold – he had banged her head on the door frame. Frustrated, John let Jane slip from his arms. Jane looked around: the little house had a rickety single bed held together by ropes, a half-empty bottle of whisky next to it, and an old chipped bathtub in the opposite corner. She wanted to faint.

“Jane?” John said gently, his voice husky. “Ya’ll right?”

She nodded weakly. This wasn’t exactly the happy ever after she’d imagined when he’d face down Doctor ‘The Duke’ Nichols and pulled her off the train tracks. She’d thought his house would at least be clean, with perhaps an oven or at least a clean bed.

Oh well, she thought. At least this is true love.

What’s Happened Here?

Valentine’s Day has taken over the blog!

Whether you’re single, anti-Valentine’s Day or taken, enjoy the new temporary layout.

I was planning on posting some flash fiction inspired by romance every day during the lead up to the most commercialised ‘holiday’-that-isn’t-a-holiday but my grandfather’s untimely death coupled with an international move has forced me to rein back. I wanted to enter Lady Timony’s #DearValentine bloghop but the timing is just off for me. I’m moving countries part-way through the challenge and I wouldn’t want to let the other contestants down.

Instead I might work on some original 100-300 word flash fictions (I love them SO MUCH) and I might post some teasers from unpublished manuscripts… you never know, you might be in luck! Especially as seeing I’m not very good at writing romance…

Just Popping In

I’ve not been sure whether or not I should post something so personal on my writing blog, but I’ve decided that I’m going to because it explains why I’m not online very much lately. I’ve been absent from my usual haunts, popping on once or twice a day to say something if I need to – like  to mention to Lauren DeStefano that I dreamt about Wither, or to thank my totally awesome friend on Goodreads for helping me find a very important poem.

Yesterday my grandfather passed away in Australia. He’s been increasingly ill for about the last eighteen months, and I’d been holding out hope that he’d last until I got home and I’d get to say goodbye. Unfortunately his weakened immune system couldn’t hold off a respiratory infection and he died peacefully in the presence of his family. I was asked to track down the poem I mentioned earlier to confirm its title and author for his funeral.

My grandfather is my hero. He was forcibly taken from his Ukrainian village by the Nazis when he was a young man. I don’t know many details, because he never talked about it and we were encouraged never to ask, but he escaped the factory and migrated to Australia. He met my grandmother, who was also an immigrant avoiding the war, and they settled in my home state and had a family.

The Viking and I are having a subdued Australia Day celebration tomorrow. But if I’m not around lately, now you know why.

Writing Rules For Rule Breakers

Today I read a fantastic article over at Writer Unboxed called A Singularly Unpopular View of Adverbs by Keith Cronan.

In it, Cronan details how some writing preferences have appeared to become rules without fully being comprehended, which sends authors off doing things to their prose they shouldn’t be doing.

Here are some great excerpts:

We’ve been taught to look out for a certain type of word, regardless of the context in which it is used.

 

all the while assuming they are automatically improving their writing when the thing they’re cutting may not even BE passive.

 

It doesn’t encourage comprehension or judgment. Only rote obedience.

 

Understanding will be gained not by avoiding adverbs, but by learning what they are.

If you’re interested in writing to the best of your ability and you’re sick of everyone regurgitating ‘don’t use adverbs’ (or, as someone in my writing class said and them demonstrated, every word ending with ‘ly’), or other archaic writing rules that you’re sure can’t apply all the time – such as passive voice (when writing past progressive tense it’s very hard to tell the difference), then go and check out the full article. It’s really awesome and well worth the read.