Kendra's Room

Kendra's bedroom was fairly tidy, but not excessively so. She was a teenager after all! She loved to read and the shelves which ran along one wall were crammed full of books of various different types. She had every possible genre represented. There were modern pieces of fiction mixed with the classics and even some shakespeare. There was a desk in the corner next to the window. Her school books were stacked on it next to the sleek red laptop computer she had gotten for her sixteenth birthday last month. The carpet was a vibrant azure blue that reminded her of the sea and there was a white furry rug in the centre of the floor. She liked to curl her toes in it when she woke up on cold winter morning's like today. Her wardrobe lay open, revealing far too many clothed crammed in tightly, with plastic crates overflowing with bags and shoes sitting in the bottom. A digital camera, a mobile phone and shiny pink iPod lay on the bedside table waiting to be scooped into her bag as she left the house. Kendra loved to take photographs, and she carried the camera everywhere she went hoping to capture that special shot. She grabbed a black messenger bag from the wardrobe and kicked the door shut. Wandering over to her queen sized bed she sat down on the rich purple duvet cover and began to transfer everything she needed for today's classes into her bag.

Supermarket Perspective

She had a spring in her step and a bounce in her step as she entered the brightly lit supermarket. She breathed in deeply enjoying the different smells that mingled together in the air. She could detect hints of the flowers close to the door and the rich smells drifting through the building from the bakery all the way at the back of the store. The bright lights and colourful promotional displays seemed to mirror her upbeat mood. She had worked long and hard for this and she couldn't wait to go home and celebrate with her husband. She strolled through the aisles with a shopping basket slung over her arm, swinging jauntily from the crook of her elbow. She wanted to choose something special for dinner tonight. She strolled up and down selecting items and placing them in her basket. She was picking out the more expensive treats, ones they normally couldn't afford. But tonight was a celebration and with the extra money that she would soon be bringing home would cover her little spending spree. With that in mind, she added a bottle of champagne and a box of Belgian chocolate truffles to the rest of her shopping. Then she made her way to the entertainments section, thinking 'what the hell' she'd buy a couple of computer games for the boys too. They deserved a treat. It was so much more relaxing being able to shop without mentally calculating the bill in her head, making sure she had enough money in her pocket to cover it. The promotion and the accompanying pay rise would ensure she would be able to breathe a little easier from now on.

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She shuffled into the supermarket with her eyes downcast. The bright lights and colourful displays assaulted her eyes, which were raw and tender from crying so hard. The lingering smells of the floral display and the in store bakery caught in her throat bringing yet another wave of nausea washing over her grief stricken body. She could not believe that after this long it was all over. Everything she had sacrificed, everything she had given him, gone without so much as a backward glance. She leaned heavily on the shopping trolley for support, keeping her head down and refusing to meet the eye of any of her fellow shoppers. Normally she liked to spend hours browsing all of the different departments in the supermarket. Not today. Today she was here out of necessity, just so that the children would have something to eat. She was gripped by an overwhelming panic that she would meet someone she knew and she would have to explain why she was here in this state. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. Red rimmed from hours of crying. Her unwashed, unbrushed hair hung in a tangled curtain, obscuring her face. She moved quickly from aisle to aisle, blindly throwing items into the trolley. Who knew what she would cobble together for dinner this evening. There didn't seem to be anything resembling a complete meal among her random choices. She didn't care. It was all she could do to function. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had stopped crying long enough for this haphazard shopping trip. She was still numb from the hurtful words they had exchanged, ending a fifteen year love affair between her and her husband.

In the Bakery

When I go to work in the early mornings, I like to watch him work. Once I set out my displays in the shining glass counters and turn on the ovens. I always retreat to the kitchen to prepare. From there I can watch him as he works in the long open room that runs off of my kitchen. The shiny silver stainless steel work table is where he will spend most of his time this morning. He sings along with the radio as he works the soft, pliable dough, sending clouds of white flour into the air. It falls like snow, dusting every surface and clinging to the dark hairs of his forearms. I take him a cup of coffee and he wipes his flour covered hands on his white t-shirt. The flour gets every where. It's okay for him with his white uniform. I have to be careful when I come back here that my smart black trousers don't get dusted with the white powder. No matter how careful I am they always do, especially on the days when I sweep out the bakery once he is gone. Once he has lined up his little balls of dough on huge trays and left them to work their magic, rising and filling with air, ready to be baked come nightfall.

The Book Shop

Evan was bored. He sighed noisly and spoke to his older sister.

"Can we go now? I want to go home, this is so lame!", he complained.

"Five minutes Evan. I just want to pick up a few books.", replied his sister Kendra.

"Like you really need more books! You are such a nerd!" Evan retorted.

"Just go wait outside Evan, I won't be long", she sighed.

Kendra loved the second hand book shop. She loved the feel and the smell of the old carefully bound books and she could spend hours in here just browsing.

The Cellar

She folded her arms tightly across her chest, gripping her upper arms as she hugged herself in an attempt to comfort herself. The cellar was dark and gloomy. The air thick with damp and dust. She concentrated very hard on breathing deeply and steadily. She turned around slowly, taking in each corner of the room. A single bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling, too dim for the light it was giving off to reach all the way into the corners. She heard a noise in the furthest away corner. The frantic scrabbling of some unidentified creature. The walls were thick, old looking grey stone and there was a heavy wooden door set into one of the walls, fastened tightly with a rusted iron lock. There were various trunks and crates stacked around the room. They were covered in a thick layer of dust and ropes of cobwebs. She shuddered as she wondered what was inside them, quickly deciding she would rather not know.

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The idea of the exercise is to convey an emotion via the surroundings. My character is supposed to be frightened.

Forbidden

It had been more than 10 years, but seeing her now, hearing her voice, he knew he had made a big mistake. She had been younger, more naive back then. She had adored him. He could have had her with a single word and made her his forever. But he had been stupid, arrogant even. He'd turned his back on her, broke her heart without a second thought. She had grown up in his absence. She had turned from an adorable teenager into a beautiful woman and as he looked upon her face, those beautiful eyes and adorable smile, he felt himself transport to the past.

He remembered the way her lips tasted, the way her skin smelled and what it felt like to touch her. When they first met he had intended it to be a one off. A one night stand with a hot teenager. A way to stroke his male pride. He had not been prepared for how she would make him feel. She loved him so much it had actually scared him a little. He had felt a great responsibility for her. She had made him feel like a king. He knew that girls like this didn't come along very often and he had made the mistake of breaking his own rules and keeping her around. She had done everything he had ever asked of her back then. He assumed it would be no different now she had found him again.

"Come stay for the weekend, like old times!", he said, flashing her the charming smile he knew made her weak at the knees.

She shook her head, biting down on her lip and he could see she was conflicted.

"You hurt me.", she said. "I loved you. You were the first man I ever loved and I know you never really loved me, but I never really got over you. You made me feel so stupid."

The look in her eyes made his heart ache. She was wrong. He actually had loved her, but he'd been stupid and dishonest and a little bit afraid. Now he desperately wanted to make it all up to her.

"That's the thing though. I really did love you. I should have married you."

She laughed and looked scornfully at him.

"You were already married, or did you forget again."

He took her hands and looked deep into her eyes. He still remembered the day his wife had found out about this girl. There had been many over the years, but she had always turned a blind eye. It wasn't until she had discovered that the relationship was on going that she had laid down the law and forced him to give the girl up. He had done it to save his marriage. The marriage which had ended anyway just a few short years afterwards.

"I swear to you. I left her, but I didn't know how to find you. I thought about you alot over the years. We were a good fit. I care about you so much. I want you back. What do I have to do?"

He had never begged before. He was the type of man who took what he wanted.

"I'm getting married in a few days. I love him. He takes care of us", she said before turning and walking away from him.

In that moment he understood what he had done to her all those years ago and he understood how it had felt for her to want someone so badly and not be able to have them

Kendra - Character Profile

• Physical/biological: age, height, size, state of health, assets, flaws, sexuality, gait, voice.
  Kendra is 16 years old, she is a pretty teenage girl with long wavy brown hair falling past her shoulders. She is in good physical shape and healthy. She is slim and athletic. Her voice is soft and melodious. She dresses in a kind of skater/punk style.
• Psychological: intelligence, temperament, happiness/unhappiness, attitudes, self-knowledge, unconscious aspects.
  Kendra is an intelligent girl and doe swell at school, not straight A's but almost. She is fairly reserved, but not shy. She just prefers to go with the crowd and not stand out too much. She is generally happy with her life, although like most teenage girls she often dreams about something special or exciting happening to her. She is a sensible girl who thinks about things logically. She thinks before she acts.
• Interpersonal/cultural: family, friends, colleagues, birthplace, education, hobbies, beliefs, values, lifestyle.
  Kendra lives with her father Trent who is a business man and always fairly busy. She has a younger brother, Evan aged 14. She was born in Cardiff but has lived in London since she was a young child. Her mother died in child birth while delivering Evan and Kendra does not remember much about her. She attends school and is a good student. She is not one of the most popular girls in school but she does have a few close friends. Two girls and a boy (names undecided). She enjoys reading and collects gemstones and crystals. Her family is well off due to her father's career but not excessively. They can afford a big house and nice cars, but are not spoiled.
• Personal history: major events in the life, including the best and the most traumatic.
  The only traumatic event in Kendra's past is the death of her mother, although as it occurred when she was 2 years old she does not really remember all that much about it. She hasn't much contact with her mother's side of the family since her father moved them away from Wales to London. The biggest event in her life will be told by the story and is triggered by meeting Dimitri (see Prologue). Kendra has no idea that her Mother was a witch or that it runs in the family.

Summary

Kendra Thomas sighed and slammed her chemistry book closed. She had been studying all afternoon and had decided that if there was anything about Alkali metals she hadn't already absorbed it seemed unlikely she was going to do it now. She had decent enough grades at school and she was confident about tomorrows class test. She pushed the books aside and grabbed one of her favourite books from the shelf above her desk before flopping down on her bed to read. Kendra had always loved books. She would read any sort of book as was evident from a quick glance at her bookshelves. She had everything from classics such as Treasure Island and Pride and Prejudice, through to popular novels like Harry Potter, with a few obscure novels thrown in for good measure.

Kendra was a little more mature than her sixteen years. This was in part to the fact that her mother had died while giving birth to her little brother Evan when Kendra was just 2 years old. Kendra had grown up helping her father raise Evan. She was a reserved teenager, never getting into trouble or going out partying. She was content to stay home and read, or hang out with her friends. Like most teenage girls she often daydreamed about exciting adventures that would take her away from her average, unexciting life, but for the most part she was happy and content.

Appearance

Kendra Thomas was the typical teenage girl next door. Hers was a natural beauty often overlooked by boys of the same age who's heads were easily turned by short skirts and blonde highlights. Kendra's charm lay in her fresh face with it's startlingly beautiful green eyes. Her thick glossy man of chestnut brown hair fell in gentle waves around her face and reached halfway down her back. She dressed for comfort in a skater girl style with a slight punk edge to it She wasn't the sort of girl who stands out in a crowd, but if you had the good fortune to have a conversation with her you would be quick to notice her pretty features and beautiful smile.

Habitual/Repeated Actions

Kendra was a somewhat typical sixteen year old girl. She was far more comfortable in smaller groups of people, or at home alone with her books. When faced with a crowd or confrontational situation she often had a nervous habit of fiddling with the silver pendant she wore around her neck. The pendant had once belonged to her mother, who had passed away when Kendra was very young. Kendra liked to think her mother watched over her and that by touching the pendant she was drawing on her mother's strength.

Speech In A Scene

Kendra closed her textbooks and stood up from the kitchen table where she had been studying for tomorrow's chemistry test.

"Homework all done sweetie?", asked her Father.

"Yes Daddy!", she replied, rolling her eyes. "If I haven't got it yet, I never will. I'm going upstairs to read for a while before dinner."

Her father smiled as she wandered out of the kitchen. She looked so like her mother. Kendra had inherited her long wavy hair. It had the same rich chestnut colour and had naturally grown into the same relaxed style as his late wife's had.

This is me!

He was a 30 year old man with jet black hair and green cat like eyes. He like his hair and his eyes. People always complimented his eyes. The rest of his body he wasn't such a great fan of. He was overweight and his skin was marked with scars from childhood illness and teenage self harm. People believed him to be outgoing and confidant, but they could not see his internal struggles. He worried about everything from how people saw him to everyday situations. He was newly married to his long term partner but constantly worried that he wasn't good enough. He was a dad, but was afraid that he wasn't bringing his child up properly. He wanted the best for his wife and son, but he was afraid that he didn't have the ability to provide it.

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This is semi-autobiographical. In order to create a believable character or at least a starting point this exercise suggested writing a character sketch of yourself, with one major change. I chose to make myself a man! Everything else is true to my own thoughts and feelings about myself.

Shifty-eyed Thief

It seemed like everyone had already stereotyped Johnny the first time they laid eyes on him. He couldn't enter a department store without the store detective keeping one eye trained on him at all times. He was used to people assuming he was up to no good and was the first to admit he was no angel. The preconceptions were mostly down to his appearance and his mannerisms. He was tall and thin with shifty looking eyes. He was perpetually scruffy with his torn jeans and the less than designer stubble on his jaw. He had a criminal record for breaking and entering. He'd done it just once and was unlucky enough to get caught. Johnny had learned his lesson and had never stolen again. That didn't matter. His parents, horrified by his behaviour had cut all ties with him. The well to do neighbours who had fussed over him as a child now turned away when they saw him on the street. Nobody cared that in the year since being released from prison, Johnny had not only never broken the law but was actually working with young people how were in trouble with the law. People saw what they wanted to see. Nobody saw Johnny the Youth Worker. Everybody saw Johnny the shifty-eyed thief.

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This exercise was designed to take a flat stereotypical character (i chose a shifty-eyed thief) and make them more three dimensional by giving them a conflict.

Child

When I was 19 years old I gave birth to a child. I hadn't planned to be a mother, certainly not a single teenage one. I was afraid. I was upset. I was filled with dread.

When I was 19 years old I gave birth to a child. I wasn't prepared to love him as much as I did, and still do. When I first saw him I knew I loved him. I was smitten. I was determined to protect him and nurture him. I wanted to see him grow into a man. I wanted to be there when he triumphed and pick him up when he fell. He became my whole world.

Eleven years later and not much has changed. That same child has changed my life. He has been a brave little boy during various mental and physical health problems. He has been a superstar athlete competing in athletics, basketball and martial arts. He has been strong and confidant. He has been loving and caring. He shed a tear of joy for me as I married the other love of my life.

For the last 11 years he has placed his life in my hands and allowed me to steer him on the best course. Yesterday I let go, just for a little while. His first bus journey all alone. I wanted to take his hand and guide him, but instead I faked a smile and waved him off on his journey. I bit back a tear as I caught a glimpse of my baby and the man he is quickly becoming.

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This piece was written after going to bed thinking of one word. I choose the word child. This is unedited. It is a short piece describing the thoughts and emotions that are evoked when I look at my child.

Bringing Objects and Emotions to Life

• Mary - Mary was my grandmother's name. She was a slight woman with wiry grey curls and a warm smile.
• sorrow - It broke her heart to watch him leave, even though she knew this was for the best. Knowing it was the right thing did not make saying goodbye any easier.
• joy - Standing at the entrance to the room filled with all of her friends and family, she began to weep. These were not tears of sadness. These were tears of joy. She took a deep steady breath, rearranged the skirts of her dress and entered the room where her future husband was awaiting his bride.
• blue - He had beautiful sparkling blue eyes.
• mug - Shivering against the cold, Dan pulled his blanket a little tighter around his shoulders and wrapped his icy cold hands around the mug of hot coffee. The heat spread into his fingers as he gripped the sturdy vessel.
• skirt - She clutched at the hem of her skirt to preserve her dignity as the blustery winds threatened to lift it over her head!
• shoe - I would have never have thought I could be so attached to a shoe! Looking for those perfect shoes to go with my wedding dress was a seemingly endless chore. I knew as soon as I spotted those perfect red satin shoes trimmed with black velvet and organza that those were 'the ones'. I cherish those red shoes and they will always remind me of the smile on my husbands face on our wedding day.
• John - John hated his job. Every weekday morning he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Once there he showered quickly, washing his short dark hair.
• Wednesday - Wednesday is date night. It is the night she looks forward to most. It is the night she can curl up next to her husband on the big squashy sofas in the corner of their local pub.
• car - Looking out of the window, she noticed the sleek black car with the tinted windows was there again. She couldn't help but feel uneasy, that was the third time this week. Was someone watching her?
• coffee - Taking a deep breath, David breathed in the rich aroma of his morning coffee.
• newspaper -

In the News

Looking at the newspaper today I picked out the following stories which might be inspirations for stories.

1. Extremely Rare Mozart Score Found In Charity Shop - special treasure discovered in charity shop
2. Woman Buried Alive in Woods - possible crime thriller
3. Alligators Spotted At Fishing Lake - possible setting wildlife reserve?

After looking at these stories and thinking about how to incorporate them into a story I have decided to write a short piece on number #1. I began to describe how the discovery was made..

Lee coughed and spluttered as he breathed in a cloud of dust he had disturbed while moving the box of old books and papers. He dropped the box and pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket to wipe his mouth and eyes. As the box landed, the top flipped open revealing the jumbled contents.

The Bench At the Bottom of The Garden

There used to be a wooden bench at the bottom of the garden. Somewhere people could sit and watch the world go by. It was strong and sturdy and comfortable and it was in the perfect spot to catch the midday sun. As time passed the garden became over grown. The grass ran wild. The trees grew neglected and the branches broke under their own weight when no one came to tend them. The wooden bench became rotten and the struts broke into pieces. The bench is gone now. Nothing left but old, rotten pieces of wooden tangled among the overgrown bushes. Neglected. Forgotten.

In the Garden

Sometimes, when the sun is shining and there isn’t a chill in the air, I like to sit at the bottom of the garden. It is quiet and peaceful there. No-one comes and bothers me. Only the sounds of springtime surround me. I can hear birds singing. I can hear children giggling as they play. I hear the muffled hum of a lawnmower a few doors down. A soft breeze will ruffle the leaves and the grass. Just for a little while it is just me and my book. I could sit out here in the sun for hours just reading. It is my own little escape from the world and from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I sometimes wish I could, but there is work to be done. There is dinner to cook. There is laundry to wash. A mother’s work is never done. So I content myself with just a few moments peace down here at the bottom of the garden.

At The Bottom Of The Garden

Becca sat in the long grass at the bottom of the garden. Her head bent low over the white wooden wishing well that sat nestled among the overgrown hydrangeas and rhododendrons. She fiddled with the little silver bucket that hung suspended from a silver chain and sighed gently to herself.

“Where are you?” she said in a small whisper. “Please come and play with me, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

Becca had been looking for the fairies for several days now, but none had shown themselves. She felt sure that she was looking in the right place. After all, her mother had always said fairies loved flowers and nature. The bottom of the garden was filled with flowers, and there was the wishing well providing that special little spark of magic! It was the perfect spot for fairies. So why wouldn’t they come out and play? Becca was desperate to find a little fairy to be her friend, but every day that went by left her more frustrated and she didn’t know what to try next. Standing up and brushing the grass from her dress, she decided to ask her mother, she would surely know the best way to catch a fairy.

Becca made her way across the garden towards the house, where her mother was in the kitchen baking.

“Mother?” called Becca. “I still can’t catch a little fairy to be my friend. What can I do?”

Becca’s mother smiled and patted her daughter’s hair.

“Oh Becca darling, you can’t catch a fairy! You will scare them all away with talk like that!” said her mother. “You just have to be patient, and wait for one of them to come to you. It might take a very long time, but if you are a very good girl and you wait very patiently I am sure that very soon a little fairy will want to be your friend! But just to be sure, why don’t you make a wish on the wishing well?”

Becca smiled, her mother always knew just what to do. She ran off, back to the bottom of the garden. She sat down next to the little white wooden wishing well. She closed her eyes very tightly and made a wish.

The Book - Prologue

This was an excercise for class, but it is also the beginnings of an idea for a book which is why I am classing it in fiction rather than an excercise. It's tentatively labelled "The book" for now so additional parts will be able to be found easily if I post more.

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I can’t say for sure what it was that first drew me to him, but the first time we met in that dark and somewhat dusty second hand book store down a dark side street in a rundown part of town. I remember his eyes meeting mine and feeling like I was being pulled towards him by some unseen force. His eyes were a deep, rich brown flecked with burgundy which made them burn like little pools of liquid flame. I sensed great power behind those eyes and I could not help but feel as though they could see right into the very core of my being. I would go so far as to say that as he gazed upon me unashamedly he was staring straight into my soul. The air around him seemed to crackle with some kind of arcane energy that felt both dangerous and appealing simultaneously.

I wasn’t sure if I should turn away or approach him. However, the choice was taken out of my hands as the stranger approached me. As he came closer, I saw that he was only a few years older than me, or at least he appeared to be, but when I looked once more into those mesmerizing eyes I saw the ghosts of many past lives. He dressed casually in smart jeans and a dark coloured shirt and had long dark hair caught in a ponytail at the base of his neck. If not for those startling eyes I might never have looked twice, apart from the fact that my whole body seemed to have felt his presence before I had even laid eyes on him.

I remember feeling like I should speak, but my mouth was dry and I couldn’t form the words. I simply stood there, rooted to the spot, desperate to run but afraid to even turn my face away. He spoke in a rich voice; his words seemed to curl around me like a soft comforting blanket.

“You feel it don’t you? You know.”

He was right in a way, even back then I knew something, I just wasn’t sure what. I was a sensible girl. I didn’t believe in magic or monsters. I lived in what I considered the ‘real’ world where like was black and white. At the age of sixteen, I was too old to believe in fairy stories. But looking in the stranger’s eyes I felt everything I knew fall away and looking back I can pinpoint that it was the exact moment my life changed forever. I tried to respond but I stammered over my words, I didn’t really know what to say and my mouth didn’t seem capable of speech at that point anyway. He smirked at me and sighed. Reaching behind my head he pulled a book from the shelf and offered it to me.

“Not yet. But you will. This is what you are looking for”

I took the book from him and turned it over in my hands. It looked very old. The black leather it was bound in was cracked and worn. It had no title, but the cover did have several strange markings embossed onto it in gold. Just holding the book seemed to make my skin tingle.

Emma Said...

Emma said that she didn't believe in magic, but being in that place how could she deny it? She could almost taste it in the air. The whole room seemed to pulse with mystical energy that made her skin tingle.

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Starting with the words "Emma said..." We were to write a short fictional statement.

Blue

Blue makes me think of cold. The ice blue hue of the winter sky. Crisp, clear and cloudless. The crisp white snow crunches underfoot. The world dusted with silver white glitter. I look to the sky and I am transported to summer. the bright blue sky seems tnot to fit with the snow. But the chill seeps through my clothes and into my bones. My skin turns a mottled blue as the cold begins to steal the very breath from my lungs.

The Ring

The delicate golden ring sits on the third finger of my left hand. My engagement ring, signifying that my heart has been claimed. The design is an ancient Irish Claddagh. Two hands form the band, cradling the heart studded with tiny chips of diamond. The heart topped with a crown. I wear it with the heart turned inward in the traditional symbol of being betrothed.

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This excercise required that I write about any object. I chose my engagement ring. The idea was to "unwrap" the object for the reader. Describe it, explain where it came from, what it is for and o on...

The Room

• The walls are cream, with a small silver pattern. The pattern is repeated at regular intervals and glitters as the early morning sun hits it.
• Along one wall are shelves packed tightly with books and DVDs. They are not neatly placed on the shelves, rather they are jammed in at various angles as if the owner wanted to squeeze in as many as possible.
• The table is littered with books, papers and stationary. It is clear that someone has been researching or studying something important.

What if the room were different...

• The walls are a deep midnight blue, inlaid with tiny silver stars. The moonlight filters through the window and reflects off of the stars, making them twinkle.
• Shelves filled with neatly ordered, dusty books line the wall. they seem very old, bound in soft leather embossed with gold. There is magic in these books, she can almost taste it as she trails her hand across the spines.
• An old table sits in the corner strewn with several of the books she had seen on the shelves. Some of the books lay open, others were discarded - apparently useless.

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In this excercise I write three short statements about the room i was sitting in at the time (my living room) and then imagine "what if...?". I choose to turn my boring old, cluttered room where I had been studying into an interesting magic shop!

An Introduction of Sorts...

I have wanted to start a blog for general writing for quite some time now, but have never seemed to have the time, or the guts if I am being honest! I have hardly ever shared my creative writing with anyone other than a select few. However as I am now studying for a BA Degree in Literature, and one of my modules next term is creative writing. I am currently doing a short course to prep me called 'Start Writing Fiction'. The course encourages us to share our writing, critique each other and to keep a daily 'writer's journal' full of ideas and interesting phrases.

So this blog is going to feature a mixture of writing. I may post pieces of fiction I am working on, along with assignment pieces from my course and some of the excercises we are given to perform. You will also find links to my published freelance writing, which consists mainly of news items or financial articles and there will be journal entries!