How to Convey Emotion in Your Story – The Emotion Thesaurus 2nd Ed #amwriting @angelaackerman
Tag Archives: writers
Snuggle up and take a sip of your favourite beverage – it’s coffee time! Continue reading →
Hi and welcome back to the coffee house. It’s going to be a quick one today but a welcome break from the busy schedule. Let me tell you why… Continue reading →
Whoop! I won! Thank you to everyone who voted for my flash fiction.
Voting has now closed for this contest. The winner was Eloise de Sousa (Entry Two), with 57% of the vote. Congratulations, Eloise! Entry One (author SD) He served, she sat. It seemed wrong. For years she had served Him joyfully with her whole heart until the disease had stolen that from her. He had let…
— Read on rewritten.uk/flashfic/flashfic-faceoff-feb2019/
Editing Your Draft – Crutch Words
This has to be one of the best Valentine’s Day gifts I’ve received (don’t tell my Hubble!): a nomination for the Best Book Blog! Thank you so very much for nominating my blog. Continue reading →
Opportunities to participate in various writing competitions or flash fiction challenges pop up frequently throughout the year, giving everyone an opportunity to flex their grey matter, whether a literary genius or novice writer. Yup, I’m looking at you!
Why not take up the challenge and see what you can free from the depths of your imagination?
Here is the prompt:
January 3, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a character who looks back. It can be a metaphorical reflection or a glance in the rear-view mirror. Who is looking back, and why? Go where the prompt leads.
Send a link back to myself in the comments or to Charli at carrotranch.com and share the love of writing with everyone you know.
Here’s my attempt at the flash fiction challenge…
Shadows grew as the winter sun faded behind the neatly packed houses. Children scampered in for tea and street lights twinkled to life. She sighed, unclenching her fingers and loosening her jaw. Another day – gone. Still no sirens, no-one searching for her. She was one of those shadows, forgotten from the light footsteps skipping home for tea. Her skeletal fingers traced the remnants of light filtering through her cramped prison. Sun-kissed skin, now wrinkled, stretched and cracked at the effort. Yes, she was now just a memory of the little girl who once lived at No. 15.
Now it’s your turn! Share your thoughts – its always great hearing from you.