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Found 12 results

  1. Another Last Post Wins entry. I am no longer queen - I have been usurped To welcome our new monarch, Valkyrie, I wrote the following to help her pass the time as she's recovering from an operation. [A bunch of hacks are waiting in a palace anteroom for a press briefing to start. They look engaged but not exactly riveted. The door opens and their eyes all swivel, focussing on the individual who enters. The (now ex-) queen walks up to the podium - she is dressed regally but lacks one vital item: the crown. She looks tired and somehow defeated.] Good morning, all. I have a short statement to make; I will not be taking any questions. [she looks fixedly at the autocue. The words come out in a monotone and sounding, somehow, as if the speaker is grinding her teeth at the same time. The hacks are sitting back in their seats and writing without fervour.] In the early hours of this morning, an involuntary transfer of executive authority occured. I was informed of this fact shortly after it happened. In the interests of my, sorry, our country and after consulting my advisors I have decided, reluctantly, not to challenge it. I wish ... I wish my ... [The ex-queen appears to splutter to a halt. She coughs and tries again. The hacks move forward in their seats and a sense of anticipation spreads ... Suddenly she thrusts the podium aside.] WTF! Do you seriously expect me stand back and let a penguin, a penguin, take control! [This sounds as though it could make the hacks' day. They start making calls while scribbling furiously.] I'd sooner die fighting than let some tuxedo wearing bird from Africa ... [The ex-queen's knowledge of geography and natural history are not her strongest suits.] … ruin my country. I mean, it can't even fly! What does that tell you about its abilities to govern effectively? [she is just getting going properly when a courtier sidles up and turns the mic off. He whispers in her ear, gesticulating as he speaks. The hacks are trying to hang onto every unheard word, wishing they could lip-read. After a couple of minutes, the ex-queen drags the podium back to its place and prepares to resume. The courtier turns the mic back on.] I wish my successor luck and good fortune in governing our amazing country. Thank you.
  2. The Ransomes, a middle-aged, middle-class couple living in North London, return home to their mansion flat, from a night at the opera, and discover they have been burgled. But this is no ordinary burglary. Every single thing in their home has been taken. They are greeted with only bare floor boards and walls. All the possessions they are left with, in the world, are the clothes they are wearing. In this novella, Alan Bennett strips this middle-class couple of all their belongings and therefore forces them to re-examine their position in society, what does it mean to be them. In very Bennett style, the wife here flourishes, using this as a chance to explore the local community around her, that previously she had just passed through to get to somewhere else. The husband, though, stripped of his possessions, fails to cope. All that seemed to have made him, his possessions, have been taken away. This is a slim volume but Bennett still manages to pack a punch with his sparse prose, with many touches of his sharp and on-the-nail humour. Though not a subject always associated with him, this is Bennett on firm territory, he knows these middle-class people and what brings them down. Bennett uses an unusual premise to write a character study of a couple suddenly thrown out of the rut their lives had comfortably fallen into. As with much of his previous prose, this is a short but enjoyable read, and easily re-read. Find it here on Amazon
  3. This is a story of modern family life, told through the diaries of three different members of a family. Mo, the mother and child psychologist, who is rapidly approaching fifty and stuck in a rut, and her two teenage children, Dora, who may have finally found a man worthy of her affections, but she has never met him, and Peter, who now wants to be known as “Oscar” after his idol, Oscar Wilde. The mother is the most well-drawn character in this story and she falls into the far too well treaded cliché, the psychologist/psychiatrist who is unable to relate to their own children. The daughter and the son are so cliched that their characters chafed with me. The daughter was the stereotype of a teenage girl, every other word she wrote was “literally”. She seemed to have no other concern in her life than that she didn’t have a boyfriend. The son behaved like the cliché of an affected fifty-two year old gay man. His biggest desire was to get a smoking jacket. Even if he was hiding behind an affected exterior, as a defence against a homophobic world, would he keep this up in his own personal diary? But in this story, he seemed completely unaffected by any homophobia. Dawn French has shown herself to be an insightful and talented performer. Unfortunately, I found so little of that in this novel. I wish she had used that insight here with her characters, instead of falling back on easy stereotypes and quick jokes. This was French’s first novel but I feel that it needed more work on it, more work on her characters and more work on a plot twist I saw coming far too early. I wished that this book had been more than a tiny bit better. Find it here on Amazon
  4. This is a gay comedy of manners and that can be a genre. It is the early 1990s and Lenny, in his early twenties, is trying to find his way through gay London. He lives in a gay house share; he works as waiter at a restaurant and dreams of finding a boyfriend and a better job. He has run away to London from his suburban Evangelical Christian home; unfortunately, he might not be in Kansas anymore but London is certainly not the Emerald City. Lenny, the narrator here, is a likable and engaging character, quickly winning the reader over onto his side, making us root for his success. The humour ranges from broad to the very poignant, in some places lingering long in the memory. But the most memorable parts of this novel are when it turns dark and inward looking. Unfortunately, Robert Farrar does not make the most of these dark moments, exploring Lenny’s inner life when they happen. This novel did ask a question about sexual fluidity long before we were even discussing it. With this novel, Robert Farrar showed he was an emerging talent, certainly a writer to watch out for. Unfortunately, he only wrote one other novel and that is impossible to find. I don’t know why he stopped writing, but we lost so many writers like him when we lost all our small and medium-range publishers. At least we have this novel, but what would Robert Farrar have gone on to write? Find it here on Amazon:
  5. Flower’s stand-up comic career is dead on its feet, Martha is pregnant but can’t remember who the father is, and Sarah’s slobbish boyfriend Billy has started to hit her. These three friends’ lives are intertwined by their friendship but they are also drawn together by Billy’s violent behaviour. Women friends rallying around together to support a friend in trouble is almost a staple of so much Chic-Lit, but Jo Brand takes this premise and turns it into a darkly comic novel. This novel doesn’t sparkle with coffee shops and boutiques, this is a much gritter world of pubs, dirty flats and dingy comedy clubs, and it really benefits from it. Here Jo Brand writes about a world that she knows well, her description of life on the bottom rung of the comedy club circuit is uncomfortably real. She also handles the relationships in this novel well, the friendship between the women and the nature of their relationships with their boyfriends. They all have the ring of real and messy relationships. This was Jo Brand’s first novel and she creates and handles her characters well. There are plot twists that are also handled well, the characters not reacting to them out-of-character and the characters not having insights outside of their characterisation, no one suddenly shows insight out of the blue. Her writing style does owe a lot to writing comedic material, the jokes often coming from the author’s voice rather than the characters. There are too many similes in her text; although many of them are very funny, they quickly start getting in the way of the story, and fewer would have been much better. The ending had an almost filmic set-piece quality to it, neatly tying all the plot strands. A messier ending may have suited the story better. This was a first novel, and many writers learn their craft in their first novel, but its quality does bode well for her other novels after this one. Find it here on Amazon
  6. I have only been out of the house once since January 27th, the date of winter storm Juno, aka. The Boston Blizzard. I made three trips to various stores and groceries the day before in order to stock up on supplies so that I could tuck-in and wait things out. Things went well, my supplies lasted quite a long time. My first journey out was to the grocery again, fresh produce was my target, and in that goal I was successful. The journey allowed me to marvel at the mountains of snow at intersections, easily ten to twelve feet tall, and the fact that the main street (Massachusetts Avenue) that runs through my neighborhood, the South End, was so full of snow that parking spaces will not be found until sometime in late spring. Sidewalks were navigable by the space of the barest width of a shovel and the only way to let oncoming pedestrians pass by was to either climb onto a car height (or higher) mound of snow, hop onto someone's half-assed shoveled steps or get real cozy. No passing. Fun stuff. Keep in mind that before the date of the big winter storm Boston had previously had only dustings, and then one storm that left about an inch on the ground when the storm began. I watched the snow fall through my oriel window in my living room and from the warm safety of my condo. It fell into and onto my below street level backyard garden and slowly covered everything. About twenty-seven inches of cover, or there about. A few days later, another eighteen or twenty inches (one is never really sure), and then some more, and some more again. We now have, in inches of snow, the high level of seventy-three point six. A record. More is on the way. Part of my condo exists as part of an 'ell', and by way of description these are extended additions (one to four stories tall) added on to the backs of townhouses all over the city and at some point in history (vague, I know). If one were to look at a townhouse from the side, you can imagine the 'L' shape at the back, hence the name. My building dates to 1857 but I have no idea when the two-story addition was added. But what this all means is that the roof over my living room is in the ell, and the roof is flat. As opposed to the roof of the main townhouse portion, which is peaked. A few years ago, neighbors put a deck on part of it, as was their right. But when snow gets to the levels that we have reached, the snow needs to be shoveled off of the flat part—roof and/or deck. That happened two days ago. My newish, upstairs neighbor (now newish deck owner) hired someone (who I know) to shovel the snow into the back garden. Fine so far. I saw said shoveler head up the fire-escape as it was getting dark. I usually pull my curtains (big, heavy, velvet curtains) closed around that time, and I did. What I didn't see until the next morning was that all of that snow had been shoveled to the sides. Whatever can be the problem you might ask? There were two mountains of snow set against the brick wall sides of my home and garden, with peaks in the range of nine or ten feet tall. So? Well, mountains have bases, and the base of mountains left and right, blocked each of my fire exits. One being my bedroom window and the other a steel door egress into the garden level from a second bedroom—with pretentions of being an office. What am I to do? Funny you should ask. Since my garden is completely snowed in and I didn't see this as a problem originally, why shovel? It means I could not get into it from its street level gate (reached by a set of stairs, also snowed in) and so I asked my next-door neighbors if they would pretty please open their back gate and let me in. I can access my garden by way of their ell addition and my buildings fire-escape (simplified version). Which I did by walking around the block and entering from the rear. So far, so good. Now, a funny thing happened on the way to the Emporium. Accessing the fire-escape was just a few pushes of snow and a completely unnecessary, though fun, break to smash a gigantic icicle hanging from the back of my neighbor's townhouse ell. If you've stuck with me, here is the really fun part. I make a treacherous step across open air onto the ice-laced wrought iron steps of the fire-escape, and again so far, so good. I tossed my two shovels (kept the straw broom) over the handrail and into the snow—they didn't sink very deep. Hmm. The next step was into the garden and was questionable. What to do, what to do? I went for it, and rather than walk to the bottom and wade through the snow, I straddled the handrail near the bottom and stepped. I sunk mid-thigh into the snow; my left leg did not follow. So there I am straddling the handrail, one leg stuck in the snow, the other trapped under a step on the fire-escape and holding a straw broom over my head for balance. Get the picture? Don't panic, Ron! It's below freezing (a high of 22°F today), I am below street level, and there is no one who can see me. Will I freeze to death? Will they find my desiccated, freeze-dried body come spring? It's amazing how fast thoughts of not-so-real possibility and craziness can flash through the mind. I had a broom, right? If you don't panic you can find a way. I was able to unseat my foot from under the step and let my left leg join its partner mid-thigh into the snow. Is this what it's going to be like? From there it was a definite slog, each leg sinking into the depths, until I was able to reach my back door entry. A journey of about twenty-four feet through perilous territory—all under foot and under snow—of planters, patio pavers upturned by cherry tree roots and a pile of pruned tree branches which didn't make it to the curb for recycling last fall. SUCCESS! Well, partial success, anyway. I did free my back door from the clutches of the mountain of ice and snow—it took an hour. But I saved my bedroom window for tomorrow's adventure.
  7. I was sent this link by a friend (to a blog entry) and it gave me a few minutes' amusement, so maybe you'll find something to it as well. http://thescribblebug.com/2015/07/27/19-conversations-writers-can-only-have-with-other-writers/ In the context of the article, I liked #11.
  8. Mojo A Post-Modern Satire and Sex Comedy by AC Benus I am so happy to open this topic for discussion of this amazing work from AC Benus. I am also lucky to have been able to be a sounding board, support and, a friend during this last year. Please read and enjoy ... and let's talk..
  9. While I am not a big fan of rap music, I found the clip featuring Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake performing The History of Rap (in four parts all included) to be energetic, funny and totally captivating. These guys know how to have fun together and put on a good show. The clip was featured in a story on nbcnews.com and Today. Here is a link to the story: http://www.today.com/entertainment/forget-sexyback-jimmy-fallon-justin-timberlake-bring-old-school-comedy-2D11774210 Here's a link to the Youtube video:
  10. Hi everyone, This is my urban adventure story - attempting to be something along the lines of a British Tales of the City (at least i'd like to think so). It's a bit of a comedy, mystery, political, love story. But urban adventure is probably how i'd describe it. Set in Manchester, UK, 2009. Would really love to know what you think of it, if you'd like to take a look! I'm about two thirds of the way through and aiming to complete by Christmas. https://www.gayauthors.org/story/stuyounger/lostinmanchester Stu x
  11. Hey everybody--wanted to create a discussion forum for my new story, "The Best Four Years of Adam Becker." Adam Becker wants out. Out of the shadow of his popular big brother, out from his stifling D.C. prep school, out from the political spotlight of his high-ranking Republican father. So when he heads off on his own to college in New Orleans, one year post-Katrina, he gets more than he bargained for: four years of friendship, love, secrets, hurricanes, and debauchery--his best four years yet. I started writing this story about two years ago. I was going through a difficult breakup--my boyfriend had moved to New York, and I had no intention of leaving D.C. I was also leaving my first job out of college, at a political nonprofit, and I intended to write a novel about my experiences in the 2012 election cycle. But I couldn't get past the first chapter. And, after writing the same iteration of the same opening scene over and over again, I figured I'd rewind a bit--and write a fictional series loosely based on my memories from college, and what was going on in my life. I never intended anyone to read this: this was my way of creating on on-ramp to the eventual novel, sharpening my skills, and getting words on a page. I've written the story through the beginning of senior year--but over the last six months or so, I felt my energy beginning to wane. So I figured I would edit it, chapter by chapter, and put it online here--find an audience, and feel like I'm writing for someone, rather than into the abyss. So far, no one's read this but me--even my college friends, who provided a lot of character and plot inspiration, have read only brief excerpts--but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading!
  12. Hi folks, As the title of this topic says I'd like to know what's your favourite movie, film or tv series. Share them with me. Also what kind of genre do you prefer, where do you watch your movies; at the cinema or at home and do you bring along any friends, maybe your bf/gf? http://s973.photobuc...t=Medium_S5.jpg I'm currently watching Medium, season 7 at home...alone. This movie is about Allison Dubois, a woman with psychic abilities. She usually dreams about murders that are about to happen or that happened in the past. So as you can see I'm crazy about detective/crime movies. I just..simply love them. What about you?
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