A Nice Surprise – Writing Magazine Story Competition Results

IMG_1640I recently had some rather nice writing news. Last year I decided to devote some time to writing short stories, with the idea that I would submit one per month to anthologies and/or competitions. I figured that, even if I didn’t get anywhere, I’d still end up with a nice collection of short stories, as well as flexing my writing muscles in a slightly different way.

Well, I managed to win second place in the Writing Magazine Modern Fairytale Competition, complete with cash prize and publication on their website! To read my story, Water and Bones, click here. I even got a nice critique from the judges, which made me very happy. (and btw, if you do head over, I recommend reading the winning story as well – it’s excellent). It’s small victories like this, or a good review or a note from a happy reader, that make writing, with all its hair-tearing, plot-twisting and rejection, worthwhile.

Writing short stories has been a good exercise for me. When I write I tend to get quite wordy – I’m forever editing word count down, rather than up. So restricting myself to a much smaller number of words to tell a story meant that I challenged myself to write leaner, to cut out any and every extraneous bit of plot, and think of the most succinct ways to convey my point.

As for my other entries, I came second in one of Esther Newton’s writing competitions, and was shortlisted for another. I also managed to get a further two pieces accepted for an anthology. And I have a few more stories that will, with some more refining, be ready to send out into the marketplace again. Or maybe I’ll just publish them myself!

Happy weekend, everyone 🙂

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.

Thursday Doors – United Reformed Church, Nuneaton

img_5077My Thursday Door this week comes from a small Midlands town called Nuneaton. It’s a town I’ve been to many times – it has an excellent market and, when I was a child, Saturdays usually included a visit there. When I was three, I was even briefly lost at the market – I remember standing between two stalls and a tall young policeman bending down to talk to me. He asked my name and address, then took my hand. He bought me an icecream before my mother, who had been looking for me, found us, and apparently the following week at the market I kept running off in an effort to get lost again, hoping for another ice cream.

img_5074This past week I took my own daughter there. She’s older than three and capable of asking for her own ice cream, so I didn’t worry too much that she’d run off. We did some shopping and had lunch, and it was a very pleasant day. On the way through I spotted this rather lovely old building. I especially liked the doors – wooden doors like these are my favourite types, especially with the big ornate hinges.

img_5075This is the United Reformed Church. There has been a church here since 1714, but the present building was built in 1903. Designed by Birmingham architects Ingall & Son, it cost around £8000, or £8,000,000 in today’s money! The building has some lovely architectural features, including carving around the doors and windows, as well as leaded stained glass. I didn’t get to see inside, sadly, but apparently all the period features are still there, which is nice to know.

img_5083This was my response to this week’s Thursday Doors Challenge, courtesy of Norm 2.0. For more doors, or to add one of your own, visit Norm’s site and click the link.

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If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.

Wednesday Wander – Amsterdam and London

anne-frank-houseToday I’m wandering to a couple of different places, linked by a young girl who lived over half a century ago. This is Anne Frank’s house, in Amsterdam, Holland.

I did go inside the house, climbing the steep stairs and entering through the secret door to see the rooms where Anne and her family lived for so long. I looked out of their window across the rooftops, across the view that was all they had of the outside world. I saw the little bits of writing on the walls of their rooms, then walked through the rest of the house, past the photos of the dead and dying, atrocity captured in stark black and white.

Anne, as I’m sure most of you know, was Jewish. Her religion demonised by Hitler’s regime, her family forced to live in hiding after being denied visas that could have taken them to safety. Anne had just turned thirteen when she was forced into hiding – she was fifteen when she was found and sent to Auschwitz, then Bergen Belsen, where she died. A young girl who didn’t get to live her life, all because of one man’s madness. IMG_1263This photo is of a plaque at The British Library, London. There is a tree associated with the plaque – I’m not sure if it’s the one peeping over the top of the wall, or if it was behind me, as for some reason I don’t have a photograph of it. However, here is a close up of the plaque:

IMG_1262As thunder approaches, may we all hold on to our ideals.

Thank you for coming on this Wednesday Wander with me – see you next time.

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.

#Blogbattle – Iridescent – When The Moon Is Full

IMG_1368It’s Tuesday, and time for Rachael Ritchey’s Blog Battle. The rules are simple – each week you get a prompt, a genre and have 1000 words to write a response, which has to be posted on the following Tuesday. This week’s prompt was Iridescent, and the genre was Fairy Tale. Here’s my take:

When The Moon Is Full

Once upon a time, when the world was younger, there lived a boy. Tall and lean he was, his skin nut brown over strong muscles, his clothes as tattered as the leaves among which he lived.

No darkness came to stain his days – he was warm and well-fed, the forest providing all that he needed. He roamed along paths he knew like he knew the feel of his skin, or the sound of his breath as he lay alone at night. And as he roamed he hunted, gathering his crop.

But no nuts cracked between his strong white teeth, no berries stained his lips, no blood flowed across his long fingers. Instead, he gathered memories. Bubble light, floating untethered around sleeping travellers taking their rest beneath tangled branches. They would wake unaware that anything had been taken, only a mild headache marring their day as they travelled on to the road beyond the trees.

And so the boy leapt and ran, graceful as any stag, through glowing leaves and past ancient stones, the precious memories tethered to him, dancing like fireflies in the dark of night. When he reached the tree he called home he would sink down among the roots and close his eyes, savouring the sounds and thoughts as they washed over him, nourishing his soul.

But one night, something changed. The moon was full, a golden globe sailing above the treetops, shining through the branches to pick out white flowers like stars dotted along the path. Around him the forest was lush and green with spring, the scent of flower and foliage strong enough to send a man mad. But he drank it in, the wildness of the night running through his veins. Then he saw her.

Dressed in velvet green as the leaves on which she lay, curled at the edge of a small pond. Her long hair was the dark brown of tree bark, her skin golden as his own. He stopped, entranced by her curves, by the rise and fall of her breast as she slept, one slender hand outflung. A bubble of memory appeared, fragile and feather light, floating around her head.

He reached out to take it, all at once desperate to have one small piece of her beauty. But when he touched the bubble her eyes came open and she stared at him. Green, her eyes were, iridescent in the moonlight like dragonfly wings, the pupils night dark. He heard her voice in his head.

‘You have taken something that belongs to me.’

He said nothing, frozen in place, the bubble floating around him like guilt.

‘It’s not right to steal, you know.’

Still he said nothing. He did not know what to do.

‘What is your name?’ She stared up at him, lips dark crimson.

He found his voice. ‘I don’t know.’ He did not.

She frowned, her head tilting to one side. ‘Do you remember nothing?’

The boy thought for a moment. “I have no memories except for those I steal.’

‘Then let me remind you.’

She stood, like a snake uncoiling, and reached for the bubble tethered to the boy, taking it back. As the tether broke he gasped. And he remembered.

He had been sent here, not so long ago. A gift from another realm. But it was not memories he was supposed to steal. It was pain, easing the path of the weary travellers as they passed through the woods. But in his youth and haste he had forgotten, taking memories instead.

‘Do you see?’ Her voice was the whisper of wind through branches, her perfume apple blossom, earthy and sweet.

He nodded, tears in his eyes. ‘I – I am sorry.’

‘Hush,’ she said, coming close to lay one finger gently on his lips. ‘You were young, and you did not know any better. I should have helped you before.’

‘Who are you?’ he whispered.

She smiled, her face close to his. ‘I am the forest,’ she replied. ‘And you are mine.’

***

It is said that the woods bordering the two lands, where the road passes between the trees, is a place of wonder and beauty, where a man might find rest in the most difficult times. It is also said that a spirit lives among the trees, as beautiful as Spring itself, her companion tall and strong.

And sometimes, on a night when the moon is full, they can be seen dancing in the glades, as close together as two vines twisting, their sighs echoing until dawn.

 

 

Navel-Gazing

IMG_1099It’s Monday. Monday means something a little different to me now that I’m back working regularly, rather than freelance. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just different.

I’m still getting my new schedule sorted out though, so please do bear with me. I’m going to keep posting as much as I’m able to, though I’ll be writing a few posts in advance, rather than off the cuff as I usually do. This also means it might take me a little bit longer than usual to respond to comments. But I will respond – I love the conversations I get to have with everyone, and very much appreciate all your lovely comments.

I’ll also be doing my best to keep up with everyone’s blogs – I follow quite a few so have made a list and will check it twice, so to speak. So if you haven’t heard from me in a while, let me know.

Other than that, it’s still writing as usual, though I’ll be doing a bit more at night than I have been. Or perhaps early morning. I am more of a morning person, to be honest.

Right, before I descend too much further into navel-gazing I might sign off. Hope everyone in blogland is well, I’ll be back here again soon xx

Thursday Doors – Haven

img_4972I’ve been posting in Thursday Doors for a while now. Some weeks the doors have been grand, entrances to cathedrals or palaces. Other weeks they’ve been more humble, just like my door this week.

Yet a door, no matter the size or shape, represents possibility. None of us know what lies behind until we choose to open the door and enter. There’s a reason that Let’s Make A Deal, with prizes hidden behind doors 1, 2 and 3, is such an enduring pop culture icon. The idea of doors representing choice, a metaphor for change, is a powerful one. Doors often feature in fairytales, either with a caution that they are not to be opened (usually disobeyed), or as pathways to a quest, representing levels of wisdom or challenge. Spirits in haunted houses are said to wander through doors no longer there, perhaps symbolic of their status as lost souls.

And this little blue door, with its welcoming light, seems to represent a haven. Doesn’t it look welcoming, with the tiled path and the little arch, the plants and the golden light beyond? On a cold dark light it’s almost a beacon, a promise of respite for a weary traveller. This is not my front door – in fact, I have no idea who lives here. But it’s nice to think that, hopefully, they feel happiness when they see their front door, a feeling that they are home.

This was my entry to Thursday Doors, via Norm 2.0. For more doors, or to add one of your own, visit Norm’s site and click the link.

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.

Wednesday Wander – Aletsch Glacier, Switzerland

The glacier on top of the Jungfrau - the original Pass of Carahdras?

I saw in the news last week that a massive crack in the Larsen ice shelf has increased by six miles in the past few weeks, with the entire crack being over 100 miles long. When a crack in ice is measured in miles, the size of the ice shelf itself is almost too large to comprehend.

glacier-4We are used to the idea of ice at both our poles. Santa lives in the North, of course, surrounded by polar bears and narwhals and a floating sea of ice. And penguins inhabit the south, their tuxedoed forms clumsy on land and greased lightning in the frigid waters. Yet the ice is receding, and has been for much of the last century, the sea now too wide in places for polar bears to swim, vast icebergs breaking away in the South. Global warming, despite all the naysayers, is a reality, and the melting of the icecaps is just one part of a bigger picture that includes rising sea levels and extreme weather events.

glacier-3Glaciers, too, are receding. Al Gore’s Inconvenient Truth showed some sobering before and after images of places where the ice once flowed. I’ve snowboarded across a glacier, at the top of Blackcomb Mountain in BC. Canada. I’ve also been inside one, in Switzerland. The Aletsch Glacier is the largest glacier in the Swiss Alps, running for about 23 km, and it’s here that I’m heading for this week’s Wednesday Wander

glacier-2The Jungfraujoch, at the top of the Jungfrau mountain in Switzerland, is a popular destination for visitors. There are several activities up there, as well as spectacular views of the glacier (via, as I remember it, a small metal balcony bolted to the side of the building – still haunts my nightmares). There is also the Eispalast, one of the highest altitude ice palaces in the world. Carved into the side of the glacier, it has a network of rooms filled with sculptures carved from ice. It’s bitterly cold inside, as you can imagine, the ice a luminous blue. Some of the sculptures have had colour added, while others are simply as they were carved.

glacier-1A funicular railway takes you to and from the top of the mountain, and on the way down we chose to alight before the bottom, walking the last section so as to take in the glorious views. I’ve written about this landscape before, as this is where Tolkien was wandering when he was inspired to write Lord of The Rings. Looking at the otherworldly beauty of the valley, I can see why.

The valley seen from the lower slopes of the Jungfrau

Our world is shaped from ice and fire, and I feel fortunate to have been close to both extremes, from volcanoes in Tenerife and Hawaii to glaciers in Canada and Switzerland. It is usually at the extreme of the scale that change first becomes apparent, so the warnings written in both fire and ice perhaps should be heeded. While we like to think we have some control over nature, in reality we are part of it and we ignore that at our peril.

Thanks for coming on another Wednesday Wander with me – see you next week!

Note: the views on climate change expressed here are my own. I realise there may be readers who see things differently – if so, let us agree to, respectfully, disagree. Thanks.

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.

 

 

Back To A Working Week

IMG_0303It’s a new year, and a new era for me, as I’ve just returned to office work after more than a decade working freelance. My daughter is older now and soon won’t need me to take her to school any more so, when an opportunity came up, I took it.

I am still writing and marketing, though in a field different to anything I’ve done before. It’s a challenge, and an opportunity to create a role. It’s also part-time hours, in a nice office with nice people, so I feel very fortunate.

The only downside is that I have less time to write my own stories. I have several books on the go – Ambeth Four, Under Stone, is in the editing/about-to-go-to-beta-readers stage, Ambeth Five is three quarters written and Ambeth six is about halfway finished. I also have my vampire novel, Silver and Black, and another idea, called The Grove, which is slowly taking shape. In addition to that, I’m still trying to enter at least one writing competition per month – it’s something I started doing last year and I’ve had some results (although that’s another post). So working five days a week means I’ve had to adjust my writing schedule a little.

Before you all shout at me, of course I know I’ve been really fortunate these past years. Being able to choose my writing time has meant I’ve been able to create a lot of material, so at least now I have a good supply of story ideas to work with. I’m having to be a bit more organised about how and when I do  my own writing, but I’m finding that it’s working so far. Even though I now have less time, I find I’m using it more effectively.

Perhaps there’s a lesson in that.

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.

 

#writephoto – Lanternlight

glaston6-024Sue Vincent has come up with another beautiful image for her latest #writephoto prompt, and my response is the next part to the story I started for another prompt, Sacha Black’s 52 Words in 52 Weeks. And here it is:

Later I sat and pondered his words. Alone in a dark corner, rainbow light from the old windows painting the walls. Across the room the bar and patrons were all light and noise, but I sat separate from it all, the colours camouflage enough.

I did like lost things. Although I didn’t think of them that way. To me they were treasure, holding stories like faint fingerprints, reminders of owners past. Sometimes, if I closed my eyes and it was quiet enough, I could almost hear them talking, smell the disappeared world they’d inhabited.

But the man in the junk shop had shaken me. Made me question why I was so drawn to the detritus of the past. Was the fact that they were lost things speaking to something in me, a space for a missing piece I hadn’t even realised was gone?

Am I lost? I thought, my hands curving around my glass. If I am, who will find me?

And, do I want to be found?

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.

 

Writespiration – 52 Weeks in 52 Words – Lost Things

IMG_2112The fabulous Sacha Black has set a rather good writing challenge for the year. Each week this year she’ll be setting a writing prompt, which you have to respond to using exactly 52 words.

This week’s prompt is: Lost Things. Here is my response:

‘D’you like lost things?’

‘What?’

‘Lost things.’ He smiled, gesturing at the old books, dusty hats, faded postcards. Ornaments filled cabinets, gold lace spilled out of a wardrobe door. ‘All these things belonged to someone once. Now they’re lost.’

I stared at him.

‘Sometimes the people who come here are lost, too.’

Now, it appears there’s another little part to this story, which came to me in response to another prompt. All being well, I’ll share it sometime over the weekend. Happy Friday, everyone!

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon.