31 Jul 2013

FSF - Limitless

Hello,

This was last weeks prompt of limitless - you don't have to use the word and I have vaguely attempted to imply that something is limitless within this piece, I have also written a ridiculously long fifth sentence! I hope you can make allowances for me and enjoy this piece. Check out the others here.



Limitless

She stood there smiling up at him inanely in an attempt to look riveted by his current topic of conversation; the lifespan of diesel engines (a topic that had no end it seemed), it was her fifth date this week and surprisingly not the most boring.

Admittedly, she could have made more of an effort in leading the conversation but she hadn’t yet felt a connection with any of them and hoped her non-participation would make them end the date sooner but she had no such luck!

She had been staring at him in feigned interest for far too long and when she blinked her eyes began to water causing him to look over and notice her for a moment, he frowned a little and paused mid-sentence as if he was going to say something, she looked back at him and raised an eyebrow in anticipation but he just resumed the conversation.

She was glad to be home, flung of her shoes and collapsed into the sofa, she grabbed the TV remote and switched on to see what her Sky box had recorded in her absence.

“Alright mate, it was awful, I will never go on a date you set me up on again man, that woman was strange, she stood there gawping at me and not saying anything, I could see she wasn’t listening so I started talking about diesel engines, and I swear to god I think she was moved by it, she had a tear in her eye and everything!”

 Leave a comment if you are so inclined! :) (fingers crossed you are)

#MWBB - You Know Im No Good

This weeks MWBB has provided us with the Amy Winehouse track, You Know I'm No Good.

Here is my story...



Staring back at her was a woman she didn’t recognise; her face was drawn and sallow, dark circles sagged beneath her eyes, her cheeks sucked in of their own accord, deep crevices weaved across her forehead and fine lines emanated from the outer corners of each eye, a puckered smile rested in a permanent droop. When did this happen to her? 


She sighed, releasing a breath of acceptance combined with cigarette smoke, and began to apply the makeup that would make her presentable enough for tonight’s show, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough and that she couldn’t go on without help of some sort. She had options. She chose Jack.

Pulling the bottle from the back of the dressing table drawer she smiled when she saw it was unopened, she liked to peel of the plastic seal and make that first twist of the cap and smell the whisky as its aroma escaped and snaked up her nostrils. The smell alone was intoxicating to her but not as much as the first drink of the day. Her taste buds long damaged by excess she judged everything by how much it burned going down. This burned. One glass would not be enough, the crowd was large, and they had expectations. They knew she was spiralling but they still wanted their piece of her. Whatever she did they still came and as long as she could still perform then they would still come.


It took half a bottle these days to steady her hands and stop her from shaking, she would finish the rest during the interval, and she took one last swig from the bottle and screwed the lid tight. She removed her dressing gown. Every time she saw her body reflected she never really recognised it, she never really recognised herself in any way anymore, somehow her identity had been lost and she was flailing without it.


She threw on a dress that someone had left in the dressing room for her; she slid her feet into blood red stilettos and felt physically repulsed when she saw herself. She was disappointed that Jack wouldn’t be able to help her on his own and grabbed some pills that had been left out for her (her manager was always so helpful) and swallowed them back. Her hair required little effort and she coated it with another layer of hairspray.


The knock at the door meant she was on, time to shine she told herself, time to live the dream for a moment. The remnants of who she had been walked slowly onto the stage and the audience roared in applause as if she was someone special, as if they didn’t know she was no good. The music began, she felt it ripple through her veins, and she sang. She sang as if she was someone special as if she was someone good.

Thanks for stopping by :) 

30 Jul 2013

Tuesdat rant-a-thon looking for contributions!

I had some chocolate and I got all opinionated!



It’s Tuesday!

Regular readers of my blog will know that I reserve Tuesdays for rants (about anything and everything that is annoying me) or Troo Tales (about my life’s adventures) and today I have a rant.

Todays has two-parts.

Part 1
I have an issue with the genre chick-lit. That’s actually incorrect, I like chick-lit, I just don’t like that it’s called chick-lit.

Let’s have a look at some definitions;

Wikipedia:
Chick lit is genre fiction which addresses issues of modern womanhood, often humorously and lightheartedly.  The genre became popular in the late 1990s, with chick lit titles topping bestseller lists and the creation of imprints devoted entirely to chick lit. Although it sometimes includes romantic elements, chick lit is generally not considered a direct subcategory of the romance novel genre, because the heroine's relationship with her family or friends is often just as important as her romantic relationships.

Issues of modern womanhood – so that’s life in general then? I thought men had relationships too but I may be mistaken. Thinking about that I don’t often come across male writers of romance novels and yet I think they would be quite good at it, as I personally don’t like too much cliché schmaltz.

ChickLitBooks.com:
Chick lit is smart, fun fiction for and/or about women of all ages. Story lines often revolve around jobs, children, motherhood, romance, fame, living in the ‘big city’, friendship, dieting and much more, usually with a touch of humor thrown in. Many of these books are written from a first-person viewpoint, making them a bit more personal and realistic. The plots can range from being very light and fast-paced to being extraordinarily deep, thought-provoking and/or moving.

Fun fiction? I read a ‘chick-lit’ novel that touched on relationship issues and identity that actually moved me (a hardened stone face ice queen) to tears. Its good to know that when the lead in your novel is a man you don’t need to worry about his character having a job, children, mentioning fatherhood, being famous, living in the ‘big city’ – how patronising is that!, and men don’t have friends and they definitely don’t diet! Manorexia is a myth.

Dictionary.com:
noun Slang: Sometimes Offensive.
literature that appeals to women, usually having a romantic or sentimental theme.

I like this as it mentions that it is sometimes offensive, I think more often than not this is the case, its always looked upon as the poor relation of genre’s. A sentimental theme? If you could see me now you would be mightily impressed with the amount of steam I can emit from my ears.

This next definition I had to include and I have put in bold my most favourite parts.

WordIQ.com:
"Chick lit" is a slightly uncomplimentary term used to denote popular fiction written for and marketed to young women, especially single young women in their 20s, working in the business world. It was spurred on (if not exactly created) in the mid-1990s by the appearance of Helen Fielding's Bridget Jones's Diary, Melissa Banks's The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing, and The Nanny Diaries by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Krause.
The genre tends to feature lonely young women in urban settings, often working in the publishing industry; it may also be considered a subdivision of the romance genre. The favored style is hip, stylish, bold, self-analytical, and slightly irreverent. Sexuality may be a primary or secondary theme but is always present, and often is presented as adventuresome, as in Candace Bushnell's Sex and the City and the television series it spawned.
Several publishing houses now have imprints or divisions dedicated to fostering and marketing works of this sort. "Chick lit" has also been claimed as a type of "postfeminist" fiction, perhaps in an attempt to rehabilitate its literary reputation.
Beyond the obvious source of the term ("chick" being slang for a young woman), it also includes a derivative reference to "Chiclet" brand chewing gum, with the implication that the reader is likely to be the sort of clichéd and nonintellectual female who chews gum and avoids serious literature.
Macmillan Dictionary:
novels written for, about, or by young educated women

This is my favourite definition, simple and straightforward but surely it shouldn’t be a genre, maybe I am heading towards saying that it shouldn’t be a genre at all.

But what annoys me about the term ‘chick-lit’ is that there are plenty of people who are dismissive about it. From what I can tell, any book with a female protagonist is chick lit and therefore I throw it out there to all those writers who turn their noses up or say such nonsense as ‘I don’t really read chick-lit’ that you do and that you probably write it as well. That isn’t the only thing, I think labelling it chick-lit ostracises men, some books that I have read that fall under this umbrella are quite funny and give an insight into what women consider the perfect partner or don’t, and men are allowed to laugh too aren’t they?  I also don’t like the term chick unless you are making fun of the 70’s and I would have hoped that equality had moved further on than that.

So on to part 2….

Part 2 is this question: Why is the counterpart to chick-lit referred to as man-lit and not dick-lit? And why is it only more recently that it has even been labelled as man-lit instead of falling into a general category?

It just annoys me, that is all.

How do you feel about it? Do you even care? If someone recommended chick-lit to you what would you say? Why is chick-lit always someone’s holiday read or their guilty pleasure?Who is your favourite female protagonist?

Some examples...Jane Eyre, The Wife of Bath, The Hunger Games, The Scarlet Letter...and so on!
Share your views below.

29 Jul 2013

#VisDare - Plains of Binchardhi

I thought I would try the VisDare this week...here is the photo...

Source


Here is my story...



He was a lion amongst men. Provider and protector of those in his charge, he never wavered, treating each like a favoured brother. He had reigned over the land for almost a hundred years and his impending demise and transcendence was all anyone could think about. 

They marched over the lands as one unit, swarming through valleys and scattering up mountains, until they came to the burial grounds of their ancestors located on the plains of Binchardhi.  Their leader watched as his men prepared his unmarked grave and when it was finished he saluted them, swallowed the venom and lay down.  

The men would grieve only when they reached home; their focus now was to get as far from the plains as possible, or risk death.  As dawn broke, they could see the silhouette of a Lion against the backdrop of the rising sun, a new era was to begin. 

Here are the rules: 

RULES:

150 words - or less.
Post entry to your blog and "link in" using the link tool below.
No blog? Post your 150 words in the comments below.
(Please - no erotica or graphic violence.)


#MondayMixer : Fly Away

This weeks Monday Mixer!

I am attempting Over Achiever by using all 9 prompt words. It was really difficult as the first draft had 234 words. As this challenge is restricted to 150 words I wasn't quite sure how I would be able to express what I wanted to. I hope that I have managed that.

Here is some music to accompany it!


and the story of course!



Fly Away

Tom stood, unabashedly, outside the postern. They couldn’t ban him. 

Friends warned him of a bruit circulating, that if he made an appearance then he would be forcibly removed, for fear he may get obstreperous. Having run the full gamut of emotions already he sobbed, “I have always been there for him. This day will be no different.” 

Anguish bubbled in his throat as he made one last check of his kludge, relieved it was copacetic, he entered the church, kneeling beside the coffin to say his final goodbye.   John had sculpted his instrument for him, and Tom had surprised him by producing a sound that mirrored their love; strong, vibrant, tender and pure.  

Spraddling it, he pulled back the bow, each string began to ululate. Tom’s gasps of sorrow barely muted by the music, as every cell (tremulous with grief) throbbed with the emptiness of a life without John.  

As usual, any feedback is devoured and feasted upon! :)

Challenge 39: Watch 50 stand up shows (DVD or LIVE)

So I have been keeping notes on all my challenges and updating as and when something happens to move towards that goal, this is the notes fo...