Fad

I build upon
My soft grotesque
Stomach in and
Belly out.
Rippling flab,
Fat flesh, stout.
Misconception,
Dissillusioned.
Slimming words
Fell from my mouth,
Losing weight.
Redundant tits,
Pointing south.

(c) Lily Childs November 2009
Original Artwork 'Tulip' in pen and ink by Laurence Ranger (c)

Milestone looming

Only 5,000 words to go until I'm at the halfway stage. Am aiming for 100,000 words which I'll then rabidly edit and crop once the first draft is typed up. I know I then need to elaborate in many areas, which will bring the word count back up again. I also need to do some final research, and interview local police - offers, anyone?

I typed up a diabolical little number today, which is coming together nicely. He's such a show off.

I had a bit of an epiphany on my original novel today. It's been sitting in the drawer for years now, waiting for the next step. Think I've got it (which will please certain people). Something to move onto once the current one is finished.

The Book

The past is coming back to haunt Alex and the residents of a little Sussex village. Will she go the way of her forebears?

Alex has had the fright of her life but STILL she manages to carry on, and shut it out. She's a freak.

The police have more clues, as a victim remembers a key fact - one that saved their life.

Do you want more...?

40,000 words

Hit the 40,000 mark on the novel today. Perfect for Friday 13th with lots of spooky teasers and a teeny weeny conspiracy going on.

Had a chat with resident spirit this evening. She's feeling a bit shy.

I'm fancying the film 'Paranormal Activity'. Is anyone planning to go see it?

Excuses, Witches and Reincarnation

Been a bit delayed lately. There have been power cuts, and lots of 'day job' work. I've been reviewing other writers' very clever fiction (you know who you are), and look forward to seeing a lot more from them.

Most interestingly, I have been researching in the National Archives for transcriptions of genuine witchcraft trials. Fascinating, yet tragic stuff for the healers and midwives who were accused of evildoing.

Some people will always be the scapegoats. I remember once, about 1440 it was - in Vieux Poitiers, France. I can still vividly recall how I was executed. But that's another story...

Back on the road...

The novel moves on.

Alex discovers something dodgy that explains a lot - and maybe we start to like her a little.

Meanwhile, a nasty person is getting frustated and frantic - at least one more victim is going to die at this rate. Yet someone is protecting the murderer.
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Feeling very inspired by the hail storms outside and the creeking floorboards inside. A drip of Merlot slips from my lips and slides, slowly down my chin. I watch it stain my dress as it falls. Mmmmnn...

WELFARE AND SCHOOL GATES

Disclaimer (another one). The following flash fiction does not reflect the opinions of Lily Childs, or anyone else Lily happens to know/be.
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WELFARE AND SCHOOL GATES

They follow me home.

Trajectory reflections on wet, winter windows give them away. Sly expressions on sneering cold faces bear down on me; judging, accusing me.

‘Unfit mother.’

I stop suddenly. I pivot on sodden leaves; rain penetrates the holes in the soles of my boots.

There’s no-one there.

Yet they’re with me still as I reach my house. Living ghosts. Uninvited they knock, not at my door but inside my head. They pound on my walls with their criticisms.

I scream.

School letters with threats tear at my sanity. I question my ability to raise my children. I don’t blend in. I am not the pristine parent with neat, tight hair. My babies do not go to this club or that club. I do not want to meet up for frothy coffee with other mums who do not care to work for a living, and gossip about their uninteresting lives.

My sons and me… We don’t need the gazes of the snoots and the snoops. But they won’t leave us be.

Next time they hound me, I’ll lock us in, keep my boys with me, and never go out again.

Give them a real reason to hunt me down.