Apologies were received from: Dick, Beryl, Derek, Clive, Carolyn, Gary, Cathy and Caz.
In Attendance: Barry, Richard, Liliane, Tony, Tom and Dave.
This evening’s meeting was a surprise with the smallest attendance for years. Obviously we always expect that members are going to miss meetings and sometimes absences cannot be avoided. With apologies because of illness and other commitments we sincerely hope that those who are unwell will soon return to good health. Dick found a new set of ladies to shock in the Copdock-Washbrook area when delivering another ghost talk to the WI!! Poor ladies!!
It is sad for the Scribblers that Hattie has now moved away from Felixstowe for an exciting position in an Austrian Hotel where she will be able to enjoy her skiing. This talented young lady was a ray of sunshine amongst us and we sincerely hope that she continues her writing and enjoys her stay in Austria.
Both Barry and Cathy entered the National Novel Writing project and have to write 50,000 words of a novel within the target time. Good luck to them both! Others have participated in previous years and found it an onerous task that demands so much time to keep increasing the word count.
Talking of competitions I am pleased to learn there is another short story competition for next year’s Felixstowe Book Festival.
How Long is a Short Story?
In terms of competitions, short story length is usually between 1,000 and 5,000 words, although I have seen short story competitions with a 17,000 word maximum. Some people might regard this as a novelette or novella. If you write a story of under 500 words, most people seem to regard this as flash fiction. Below is a guide to story lengths and how they might be named (there’s a fair bit of overlap as research shows that opinions differ greatly):
- Flash fiction: under 500 words
- Short story: 500 to 17,000 words
- Novelette: 7,500 to 25,000 words
- Novella: 10,000 to 70,000 words
- Novel: 50,000 words or more
I’m of the opinion that the correct name or length is whatever any publisher, competition judge or magazine editor deem it to be. Just write within the parameters they ask for and you’re more likely to win competitions and be published.
By Christopher Fielden.
Now to the subject of our homework theme, ‘Winter’:
Liliane: The Grim Season: After Christmas and New Year everything fell flat. Dull weather, bare trees and gardens. My family sunk into the misery and gloom of winter, having over-spent and over-indulged when much of the festive outlay would have been better spent on home improvements. The family were always cold and vying for a place round one of the stoves; the thought of central heating was a pipe dream. Elza never grumbled about the cold, only about other folk’s morals. She grew up in an orphanage then became a servant and didn’t know about luxuries such as heat. Uncle Jan had his own solution, going off to ‘The Flemish Lion’ where there was always the warmth of the big blond barmaid, Cecilia...
Tony: Methala: Upon the small white orb that had circled a much larger orange one for billions of years, a tiny insignificant speck stirred. It called itself Methala. Rising from her bed she had dug in the snow she packed her hides away. She moved along the metre deep snow and noted the signal on her indicator had sped up then changed direction. The signal meant life, human life. Eventually it seemed to stop and remained stationary. Companionship she thought as she reached the top of a hill and looked down into the darkness. Down there was the signal where she found a dead wolf which became her first meal for days. And there was the signal. Perhaps the owner had been the wolf’s last meal. Methala wondered if she was the last human on the desolate planet.
Dave: In the Chill of the Night: Written for the Halloween meeting and subsequently edited to fit the winter them, this was perhaps an unusually dark story. Vic had set out walking to meet his date at a town centre rendezvous. On the way a mysterious woman appeared ahead of him and her magnetic effect drew him into a mysterious unknown alleyway which was more Victorian than present day. The woman kept beckoning him on but behind him some terrifying animal trapped him. As she turned towards him he realised she was not human... He never did meet his date.
Tom: Joe’s Dilemma: Joe Simmons stood by the operating table watching the surgeon pull off his theatre clothing then throw them into the waiting bin. Joe wondered why he could see himself but couldn’t move any part of his body then realised he’d croaked it. Joe learned about astral projection from a book so tried moving out into the corridor. It worked! The day had started crap and gone downhill fast. Late signing on, he spilled his tea in the Domino Cafe, dropped his toast before the blonde assistant told him his flies were undone. He left the cafe in a blue funk and got hit by a pantechnicon. Being dead meant no fags, booze nor sex. What there was to live for? He went to his sister Anne’s where her dog freaked out just before she got news of Joe’s demise. About fifteen folk attended his funeral when a man spoke to Joe. ‘My name is Karl and I have to prepare you for the final move,’ then everything became a blur.
Richard: Bleak: Lisbet’s story is about lying, deception and betrayal and how hard it is to reconcile with the people I knew all those years ago. I supposed Lisbet and Joachim would have lived on as I knew them, a linear path, predictable. Joachim owned a gardening business which was stressful. Lisbet did the bookkeeping and looked after their family affairs. All was not well. Ten years ago Joachim told her that eighteen years earlier he had an affair with an employee who had a child. To support them Joachim siphoned off cash from the business always lying about the increased cost of jobs. Lisbet eventually overcame the long term deception. When Joachim died Lisbet sent a formal notice of his death. Richard says, ‘I have good memories of Hamburg and two welcoming generous people. On the whole, I prefer living in the past.’
Barry: Sharing: Something Barry wished to share. Summer nights get darker, winter nights draw in, the wind chills the bones and makes the leaves fall. A summer walk along the promenade is pleasant, but the sea invades the land in winter storms whilst beach huts are dragged seawards. Life can be very hard in winter. One person who will not suffer this is my grandfather Ernest French, known to all as Will or Pops. He had his flu jab then went to hospital for a routine operation which was successful. Then he needed an emergency operation and lost a lot of blood. He battled a chest infection then was gone on 24th October. The last thing he asked was for me to prop up his pillows. On 20th November I will be at his funeral. An extract from my eulogy:
Ernest French was born 11th September 1924. A true gentleman. There were only two places Pops loved to be – the golf course or making his garden look beautiful for my Nan. Now he is with her. He only needed three things to make him truly happy. Someone to love, that was my Nan, Florrie. Something to do, which was his golf. Good friends and family, all of you here prove he had that too. Thanks for being a fantastic grandfather and a good friend to us all. We will miss you. Bless you Pops.
Although so few in attendance there were some really gripping words, and some sad words too. Another good evening though.
Just a gentle reminder that membership fees are now due.
Our next Meeting will be on Tuesday 2nd December 2014 at 7.30pm at The Room at the Top in the library. The homework theme of up to 1,000 words is rather appropriately, 'ABSENT FRIENDS’!!
Look forward to seeing you all again then.
In the meantime,
Keep Scribbling!!!
Dave
Ps Thanks for all your good wishes and cards.
