Would Anyone Be Interested In A Writers Group?

[rowanwitch]

A thread to swap ideas and help one another as it seems a number of us have written and are published, or are in the throes of learning to write. The latter for me apart from a few poems years ago.

[rowanwitch]

Thanks Ken, I would have picked it up at the next read through I hope, it's why I like to get someone to give my stuff a quick read through between my edits.

[Ken4155]

I looked for this thread on Thursday but i was looking in the wrong place - Arts and Literature:-(. Thought you'd binned the idea.
Said on here a few times that i've penned (and typed on a half-decent typewriter) a novel of over 100,000 words which i actually began way, way back in the late 70s!
Throughout the intervening years, i have edited & amended it and have submitted a few chapters to one or three publishers - obviously without success. It is centered around football hooliganism so it has now become a little dated and, should i choose to go down the road of 'vanity publishing' (Kindle) i'm not sure how it would go down with the audience it was originally aimed at? I do have other ideas, and if this thread takes off, i may (or may not) bounce a few ideas around these pages:-)

[Ken4155]

Forgot to "pop back". Years ago, in moments of boredom or in the throes of depression, i wrote copious amounts of 'stuff'. Some of it was absolute trash, but there were a few half decent ideas in there. Besides, it helped with my current state of mind at the time.

Here's one i wrote while bored out of my skull:-) It is dated 6 May '98, which would coincide with the recovery from a couple of broken ribs - hence the boredom.

Figuratively Speaking;

Gonna get me a pilot's licence
And buy me an astral plane
Fly my passengers to an haunted house
And scare them all insane

Gonna get myself a plan of action
Put 'action' on the map
Somewhere in the heart of England
Or anywhere there's a gap

Gonna get me on a cookery course
Learn how to really bake
Learn the recipe for Lemon Meringue
Though it won't be a piece of cake

Gonna date me a Penthouse centrefold
Learn what she's all about
See if she goes to pieces
When i take her staples out

Gonna rip that Ferrari from the page
Make that powerful engine whine
Really let the throttle out
And tear along the dotted line

[Ken4155]

Yes i know it ought to be "a haunted house', slip of the finger:-)

[Rosie29]

Good poem Ken -lovely rhythm. - and full.of feeling.

[rowanwitch]

Ken I love it, really conveys how crazy boredom can send you.

[Ken4155]

Rowan, if i remember rightly, i was just sat staring at the tv and the phrase, 'Astral Plane' was mentioned and i thought to my bored-to-death self, "Wonder if you need a pilot's licence to fly one of those." Random thought process took over and i reached for my pad and my pen.

As you intimate, boredom can do strange things to the mind:-)

[DTCwordfan]

I've published on-line and have quite a few insights, please to share findings.....the one thing that I would say upfront to any budding author that what sinks many a fiction submission of whatever genre is a lack of personal emotion being expressed - particularly important for the fairer sex's involvement in a yarn, apparently.

[woodelf]

Okay Ken, it may not be risque, but the inference is there, so here goes:-

The Coming Of Spring

Branches nippled by ripened buds
engorged with fire, inflame the woods,
which wait alone for Winter’s death
so still, as with some long-held breath.
Until the time when Mother Earth
releases her tumescent birth
and at that last climactic rush,
the woods of Spring will cease to blush.

[Ken4155]

Knew it would be a good 'un, Woodelf. Ta for sharing. Hope to see more of your stuff down the line.

[jourdain2]

I liked that very much woodelf.

[woodelf]

Many Thanks Ken and Jordain and there are some more of my poems on my website
http://theartsight.000webhostapp.com
under the heading Writings
and here's a little extra one for those of us who struggle, including me, mightily!

Writers’ Block

O how the self pity drowns
such unfettered thoughts of simple clowns
and dissipates all structured thought
and after all, it comes to nought.

So I stumble through this blind black night
with no hope of birth or sight,
to help me along this crippled phase
to see creation’s flame ablaze.

Fear not yon serried muse
frustration cannot allow you to confuse,
such alien thoughts which much deride
the embryonic force deep inside.

Ah, sweet pillow to take my rest
upon whose bosom is ne‘er confessed.
and yet sweet dreams may yet unlock
such harassed doors to this writer’s block.

[10ClarionSt]

Ialwaysfindthattheabsenceofpunctuationmarkscommasetcisasignofpoorenglishdontyouagree

[jourdain2]

I tend to agree 10Clarion - but I think poetry can be freed occasionally.

Just a touch of Shakepeare there, woodelf?

[Bobbisox1]

I’m into 2 years writing a book, difficult using dictation because of my accent which I don’t see as being ‘very Geordie’ but the words that appear are hilarious , my book is pre war in a large house with many characters , some based on here , they come together with a tale to tell , I use the Big House as it’s called to bring them together and to see where there life goes, hopefully it displays, humour, happiness, sadness and much more

[rowanwitch]

It's really interesting that we cover such a wide range, and it's nice to know we do not have to plod on alone.

A book about football hooligans, could you 're write it and take it into the world of the eastern European ultras... Maybe taking your UK characters to Europa league matches.. Would certainly be very current.

[woodelf]

Is this thread still on-going
or has it become all knotted
and all those poems and prose all flowing
or are they all forgotted*
or have they moved to a different place
and I just don't know where
or did no-one wish to show their face
and really just did not care?

(*) poetic licence, of a sort!

[Ken4155]

Here's one i penned while sitting by my dying father's bedside back in 2007. The family took turns in tending to his needs, such as they were, for an hour or so each 'shift', and, being a fiercely independent guy, he hated the fuss we were making (his words, not mine).
Dad wasn't a burly chap, but he was a six-footer, and had some meat on him. The cancer ate away at his body until there wasn't much left to bury.


Not My Father

That isn't my father lying there
like a half-remembered tune.
Just a shadow, thin and wispy
like an ever-waning moon.

That isn't my father lying there,
heading for his twilight zone.
Hardly disturbing the duvet;
barely skin and bone.

That isn't my father lying there,
tended to by one and all.
Peering out, through milky eyes,
at the writing on the wall.

That isn't my father lying there,
but an almost empty shell.
With barely enough left inside
to hear the tolling of the bell.

[Ken4155]

On a much lighter note, i wrote the following for my grand-daughter when she was a toddler. It may be familiar to some of you because i have posted it before on these pages.

Frog

One misty eve i came upon
a frog by a shimmering pool.
First i checked i was on my own -
well i didn't want to look a fool.
Then i stooped and picked up the frog,
and kissed it firmly on the lips.
And found it rather odd,
for it tasted of vinegar and chips!
Then i stood, looked at the frog,
waiting for it to change.
And, as the mist rolled in like fog,
I began to feel rather strange.
Then, in a choking cloud of smoke,
and a blinding flash of light,
I turned into a frog, no joke,
And we hopped off into the night.

[Ken4155]

Sorry, Rowan, just read your suggestion about the Ultras. It's a sensible suggestion but i was always told 'Write about what you know' and i honestly don't believe i know anywhere near enough about hooliganism abroad. I could, of course, research the subject, but i would probably get bogged down doing so, and the book would never get re-written :-)