The purpose of this post is to let you know that on or around 1 June, there is a possibility that posts on this blog may cease for a time. If this happens, I wont have been assassinated by readers angered at what they (rightly or wrongly) perceive as the poor quality of my verse, (or kidnapped by a crazy fan who wishes me to write poetry solely for them). No, it will be down to the replacement of the WordPress Classic editor by the new Block editor.
Since the inception of this blog, I have been blogging using the WordPress Classic Editor. Classic works well with my accessibility/screen reading software, Job Access with Speech or JAWS, which converts text into speech and braille enabling me to use a Windows computer/laptop.
From 1 June 2020, the Classic Editor will be replaced by the WordPress Block Editor (although the Block Editor…
We hadn’t seen dad for nearly a week, and that was a long time, even for him.
Mum was going spare, ranting on about what she’d do to him when he finally came home. Poor dad, it could mean another black eye, or a nose which wouldn’t stop bleeding for hours after mum landed one of her punches. Pretty normal behaviour for my parents and had been going on for years. Considering my mother’s temper, you would think he would stop rolling home drunk and penniless, but he never did.
It was late Friday night when he finally came home. We knew it was him, even though it sounded as if something had been thrown at the front door. We listened to him fumbling with the key for ages; mum with arms folded, waiting for him to fall through it. How she controlled her temper and didn’t rush at the door and tear it from its hinges, I will never know. I think I would have done; it would have been quicker.
I heard the lock turn and dad swung in like a gust of storm wind, holding on to the key that was stuck in the lock. His dark, shaggy hair hadn’t seen a comb in days and his clothes appeared to have been slept in. He stood there swaying, grinning at mum like an idiot.
She slapped his hand from the key, sending him flying across the hall, skidding on the mat that never seemed to want to stay in one place. I had a ringside seat at the top of the stairs and watched as she calmly removed the key and slammed the door…
There are a plethora of writing craft books out there, and it is mind-boggling to work out which one is worth your hard earned money.
Today, I am so excited to share with you a book that is out today, and TOTALLY worth it!
Many of you know Sacha Black. She’s been on the blogging circuit for a long while, and was the head honcho for the Annual Bloggers Bash Awards too. She’s the proud author of two YA fiction books and has two fantastic non-fiction books out already, about developing your Villains and Heroes.
This time, Sacha has excelled herself with a book about creating perfect prose, in her own inimitable style.
Do your sentences fail to sound the way you want? Are they lackluster, with flat characters and settings? Is your prose full of bad habits and crutches? In The Anatomy of Prose, you’ll discover:
So…if you saw my post last night you will know I felt sad. I had planned to do some work on this course work have asked me to complete. But I did not feel I could face hours of reading.
Instead, I poured myself a glass of wine and flicked on the television and had a very pleasant surprise. It was episode four of the six part BBC Pride & Prejudice. You know…the one with that scene!
It was great! It cheered me up no end!!! If I could pick four minutes of television magic…well that would be it!!!
But then my mind started wondering. Is Jane Austin to blame for the romantic streak I possess? Has she put to many ideas of a Mr Darcy into my head? Is that why I sulk over not knowing when I will see Goldfinch again?