Wrote this quite a while ago. Like the idea but not sure I like what I’ve written.

Please have at it with sticks.

Pointy ones.


I push the button and wait for the chaos. Two shapes dart past the frosted glass of the front door. The gate buzzes, releases and swings open. I have just enough time to close it and turn around before I’m enveloped in a three way maelstrom of children and dog.


I fend off the dog with one hand, low five my son with the other and shuffle forward bearing the weight of a three year old blonde haired limpet on my right leg. She slides off me just before the steps.

“Yucch Daddy! Why are you all sweaty?” Her nose wrinkles.

“I’ve been running my love, that’s what happens.”

She gives me a serious look and then starts laughing. “StinkEEE Daddy!” She runs inside yelling and giggling.

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It’s gonna nail ya
On a Wednesday
Put down your pens day
So lay yourself low
Or better still yo
Take up a simpler pastime like drinking and while away the hours in a grape-filled haze
Peace out

Right. Now that I’ve proven beyond measure that I’m down with the kids let’s have a look at this week’s 150 word failure. It’s called #amwriting and the prompt was scale.

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Deum Ex Foliolum

Today was rapidly turning into a carbon copy of yesterday which was a fairly decent approximation of the day before. At least in a writing sense.

Picture if you will, a man (devastatingly handsome, early forties). A man sitting at a desk barely aware of the wind howling outside so consumed is he with the sound of tumbleweed blowing though the desert that is his creative mind.

You can tell how bad it is from the fact that he is now trying to convince you that tumbleweed has a sound.

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Dystopian Mueurrggh

I couldn’t think of anything to write tonight. This is different from yesterday inasmuch as today is not the same day as yesterday.


And furthermore, whoop.

In an act of desperation I crossed the lego strewn rubicon separating the spare bedroom (where I write) from my bedroom (where my wife is relaxing like normal humans do on a school night at ten thirty instead of staring at a computer screen with the kind of loathing normally reserved for things of a highly loathsome nature. I bet there’s not even a modicum of self-hate or the slightest feeling of inadequacy worming its way into her psyche as we speak. She’s such a loser. Unlike me).

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Ten Truth Tuesday

1. It’s highly unlikely this will become a regular feature. However, I was literally getting snow-blindness from staring at a blank page over the last two days and I had to do something. As an interesting (you be the judge) aside once your retinas are properly word processor scorched try closing your eyes. It looks like an orange door floating close enough to touch…and beyond the door is a magical world where writing flows like methylated spirits through a piece of cheap bread and oh bugger it’s gone.

2. My wife is showing signs of being a foodie parent. I caught her cutting viennas for the kids on the angle.

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Just Chatting With My Brain

Are you writing directly on to your blog?

Yes. What of it?

Don’t you what of it me sunshine. You never write directly on to your blog. Never ever. Ever. You are strictly a write-it-down-somewhere-else-and-paste-it-later kind of a guy.

So? Can’t I try something new every now and then?

What, like writing a story?

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Seemingly Separate Strands

Good to see I’ve chosen a title that breaks the Always Avoid Alliteration rule before I’ve even started.

I’m constantly amazed at the way unconnected threads find a way to weave themselves into a (hopefully cohesive) story.

I promised myself that tonight I would sit down and write a story. I haven’t written one for a couple of months and with each passing day the mountain was growing. As my day wore on I could feel myself getting edgy. What will I write? I don’t know where to start.

I’m not generally someone who holds much truck with fate and destiny but every now and then I’m convinced that some shards of storytelling magic poke their way into the world and demand to be listened to. Tonight was one of those nights.

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