Five feet, four inches. That is how tall he stands when wearing his boots that have a two inch platform on heel and sole. He is short, certainly, though stocky. His body is a hard mass of tough muscle and tight sinew. His fierce face is a preponderance of scars and craters placed upon a large round head. His hair is cropped close to a scalp that is laced with more ruinous abrasions. His ears are tiny knots of ruined cartledge and from the torn flesh of his left lobe hangs a large gold ring from which swings a golden skull. From the right eye of the skull twinkles a fine-cut ruby that sparkles in a perpetual sway of bloody winks.
 

Well, it's all over again for another year! I think Christmas should be once every two years. It comes round too quick and the Christmas adverts appear earlier every year. No, I am not a fan of Christmas. It's one day and I will celebrate Christ's birth but that's it. The rest is pointless. Yes, I can here you all whispering "Ba - humbug!" and a few of you shouting "Scrooge!" but that's how it is!
Happy Easter everyone!
 

In keeping (or "Inn Keeping!) with the time of year, I had an idea to write a dramatisation of the very reason for Christmas. My story - as yet unfinished - can be found in my portfolio and is titled, "The Stable". Though it is my version of events, I have taken my que from the Gospels and have also done a little bit of research into the era. Only a little bit, though, as research is not my favourite thing! That's why they say, "write about what you know". Still, I thought it would be interesting to put myself into this age old story and I am quite enjoying the challenge. It is quite difficult to write a new version of a very famous story without being tempted to follow every exact word and event of the original. That's what is most fun - adding my own dialogue and treading away from the beaten path by adding to and expanding on the story.
 

Perhaps your parents or grandparents read you fairy tales when you were young. Maybe you read them yourself as you grew older, but not wiser. Quite often they began with, ‘Once upon a time…’ More often than not, they ended, ‘…happily ever after!’ These stories told in the soothing tones of parental love would lull you to sleep with their comfort of familiarity and safety. They reassured and comforted us in our childish need for night time placation. These stories of old were a calming routine of bed time rituals. Even those that contained monsters or ogres or trolls ended in such a way as to instil in us the knowledge that evil always lost. The wolf always felt the axe; the troll always regretted the sound of trip trapping hooves; the greedy goblin baby snatcher always lost the bet; the wicked witch forever rotted from the poisonous fruit. All tales befitting the moments preceding a warm, safe sleep.
Later, as we step through the doors of puberty and the world becomes a sharper place, we learn of stronger demons. The tales from childhood were mere twists of half truths taken from older, darker stories from ancient times. Crueller times. Black, cold and deadly days where life was just the beginning of death. Maybe these were legends to scare instead of comfort; punish the child for wandering in the forest, scold them by making real what they fear most. Developing and embellishing horrors and creatures from nightmare lands that would create the boundaries acceptable in society. Respect through fear. It usually works.
Read any of the original tales by ’The Brothers Grimm’ and you’ll find that fairy tales are not children’s bed time stories.

‘When the wedding with the King's son had to be celebrated, the two false sisters came and wanted to get into favour with Cinderella and share her good fortune. When the betrothed couple went to church, the elder was at the right side and the younger at the left, and the pigeons pecked out one eye of each of them. Afterwards as they came back the elder was at the left, and the younger at the right, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye from each. And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness as long as they lived.’
Extract from the real ‘CINDERELLA’

So, as tales go, they are usually taken from some truth, forged by time into legends, then turned into nothing more than nonsense verses and stories to tell the kids.

‘The truth hurts’ is a common saying. The truth in this case can also kill. When monsters from fairy tales turn out to be real, you just know the world has ended…

 

I have been writing a novel that I have called 'Cornercopia' and have posted Part One on my portfolio. It is something I have been working on for almost two years and have almost completed the first book. I say first, as I believe there is a lot of potential for an ongoing series.
It is a mix of all the old stereotypical British TV programs that were mainly shown in the 70s and 80s, shook up with a dose of satire and comedy; all the sitcoms, murder/mysteries, soaps and crime thrillers.
Even though I do say so myself, I believe it flows rather well and I have written it in the present tense which I do seem to favour. It gives the scenes a sense of action.
Anyway, take a look and let me know what you think.
 

NaNo novel is complete and I feel exhausted. What a ride! I can't believe I have actually written a novel!
I am going to leave it a while then forge ahead with my polishing cloth. Only wish I had some booze in to celebrate properly!
 

Less than 4,000 words to go!! Still no idea of the ending!
 

Still up to scratch with the word count. I am confident I will finish on time. Words and story twists are flowing more freely now and I have understanding of my characters and their direction.
Once its done I will edit it through more draft stages and give it a damn good polish, maybe even extend it towards 60,000 words.
Oh well. Back to it!
 

Only 602 words short of the 30,000 minimum I should have done by now. Not a bad catch up!
 

I have reached almost 20,000 words and have done about 1,700 a day on average. Today, however, I managed only 750! I am too tired after a hard week.
So, it's time for a few stiff whisky's a good film and some tasty nibbles.


Albert Queen Albert Queen