Write stuff

This morning I sat down to write a story, something I’m ashamed to say I haven’t done for quite some time.

Well actually, I say ‘write’ a story, I am in fact adapting one already written.  I am going to have a go at expanding A Civil Wedding – which you’ll find on here – for submission to My Weekly magazine.  It presently has 1,000 words; I am going to add an extra 200 to meet the requirements of their Romance category.

I’m afraid I have neglected my scribbling of late.  We’ve been having work done on our home, with a view to (hopefully) selling it soon, and I’ve had other things going on such as going up to London to see the (drag) queens in Priscilla Queen of the Desert, so the writing has taken a back seat.

But I am now hungry to get another piece in print.  I have promised myself that if I sell a short story to a magazine – or alternatively if I sell my collection of Smurfs (another story entirely; feel free to e-mail me if you’d like more info…) – I will spend the money on getting my recently-completed novel The Four Matthews bound into ‘book’ form.  Without such a monetary bonus, I cannot justify the cost of that exercise (this is not about to turn into a begging letter, by the way).  That then gives me an incentive to get my thinking cap on and pen the next masterpiece that will send the readers of My Weekly into a spin.

That particular magazine currently only accept submissions from contributors who have previously had stories accepted by them.  Great news for the likes of me as it narrows down the competition somewhat!!  I am just so grateful they have published me previously.

I must admit I was apprehensive when I sat down to write this morning.  I always am, daft as it sounds; it’s a ‘mind over matter’ issue.  I want to do my best; this pressure to create the most stunning story ever in the history of literature overwhelms me.  I must be a masochist to put myself through it.  If only I didn’t have this compulsion to write, I might take up a more painless hobby – like rock climbing, or syringing my ears with a breadknife.


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