My collection of short stories is now available. Special offer!!
Free to download on Kindle from Monday 23 – Friday 27 April.
PS Thank you to my husband Cliff Davies for the cover photograph.
Back to Basics: 5 Things Editors Expect You to Fix BEFORE You Submit
Writing on your own, it’s easy — and acceptable — to leave small errors and ‘iffy’ sentences alone until you decide to edit later (if you ever get that far — let’s be honest). This doesn’t fly when you’re submitting your work to an editor, though. There’s a certain level of “polished” editors expect from anything they consider for publishing, and if you’re not willing, or don’t know how, to get to that stage, you’re going to have a hard time getting published.
This goes far beyond basic spelling and grammar. (If you can’t fix these obvious errors on your own, you’re probably not quite ready to submit to editors — and that’s OK.) Here’s what to make sure you’ve revised/rewritten before you send off that piece of writing.
1. Unnecessary words
Fluff is not at all an impressive thing. For many people, it’s a leftover bad habit…
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From the frying pan into the fire
by Theresa Jacobs
I was46 yrs. old, working in retail, and had squashed my desire to write for twenty plus years. I was beginning to question my life, or more so, my lack of ambition in 2016. One day I woke up and said to myself: “Life is pointless if I am not happy with who I am.”
My new life as a writer was born that day.
I did have a dusty, twenty-year-old manuscript, housed on floppy discs – for those who may not know, this is an outdated mode of saving files.
I have a tendency to jump straight from the frying pan into the fire. I took these files, and without re-reading the book, or doing any editing, I decided to upload it to Amazon. That was not a brilliant idea. I just put a rough draft out there for all the world to read.
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What really sells a book?
A very useful article!
The Silver Locket
Published in 2012 under the name Holly Atkins.
When 30 year old Laura Peterson unexpectedly inherits a house in rural Lancashire, she seizes the opportunity to take a break from the busy but unrewarding life she has in bureaucratic Brussels. A series of disturbing incidents disrupt Laura’s efforts to restore the house and grounds. Then a violent storm brings an ancient oak crashing to the ground, revealing a tiny human skeleton, tangled in its roots. Laura’s sleep becomes increasingly disturbed. Convinced that her dreams and the discovery of the bones are connected, Laura delves into the history of the house, unleashing a wave of powerful and frightening events which threaten both Laura and those around her.
Available worldwide in paperback and on Kindle on Amazon, or within South Africa, directly from the author for R120,00 including postage and packing.
Check out my author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/hollyatkins
Thoughts on publishing today and in the 90s
by Ken Harrison
I started writing as Keith Wilkins for extra cash back in the ’90s when you could make a quick buck writing short stories for porn magazines. I also wrote book reviews for a local LGBT newspaper, Bay Windows, but short stories paid more. I was a regular contributor to such magazines as In Touch, Indulge, Blueboy, and Mandate. My fiction appeared in other magazines here and there, but those were the ones that published the bulk of my stories. Let me tell you, it was the best part-time job I ever had.
It wasn’t until I published my first short story collection through Leyland Publications, Daddy’s Boys, that I used my full name, Kenneth Harrison. My publisher was the one who talked me into using my real name, and I’m glad I did. These days, I use Ken Harrison, which is what people actually call me.
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Strange Fruit 2
From my Flash Fiction Collection
Ashley woke up. Her little sister, Bethany, had been calling out to her. As Ashley rolled over to check on her sister, she felt her body push up against something hard. As she looked across their bedroom, she saw that Bethany’s sleeping form had become entwined by the tendrils of some exotic plant which were growing from a giant seed pod which lay on the bed next to her. Ashley looked down; a similar seed pod rested next to her. As she moved her arm to pull back the covers, a thick, green tendril snaked out from the pod and wrapped itself around her wrist. She gasped and tried to pull herself free. Another tendril shot out and bound her left leg. Ashley screamed out as she heaved herself over the edge of the bed, knocking ‘The Big Book of Fairy Tales’ which she’d been reading to Bethany onto the floor, the cover ripping as the book fell. She groped her way across to Bethany’s bed, dragging the pod behind her.
Ashley was pulling herself up onto the edge of Bethany’s bed when, Hodge, the housekeeper, appeared at the door. Hodge rushed over to the bedside. Ashley had managed to free her arm and was desperately tugging at Bethany’s bonds.
“Help me, Hodge, get it off her,” Ashley cried. “Quickly, it’s choking her.”
Hodge grunted as she tried to loosen the tendrils which were tightening around the little girl. Her strong fingers drew back the growth around Bethany’s face and neck. Ashley kicked at her own seed pod, freeing her leg. The pod rolled under her bed, hitting the wall with a dull thud.
“Go and fetch Tom and get him to bring something to cut this off,” said Hodge, gesturing toward the door with her head, as she continued to pull on the vegetation. Her voice rose: “Hurry, Ashley!”
Ashley hurtled downstairs and out of the kitchen door. “Tom, Tom!” she yelled, running down the garden to the potting shed where Tom was usually to be found.
He emerged carrying a watering can. “What’s the rush, Miss Ashley? You’re not even dressed.”
Ashley explained the situation to the puzzled gardener, who nevertheless grabbed his shears and secateurs and hurried into the house after her.
Ashley watched as Tom carefully chopped away at the plant. Soon there was a pile of cut vegetation next to the bed and Bethany was free. All the time while Tom had worked, there had been no sound from the little girl. They could see she was breathing, but she was unconscious.
“What’s wrong with her,” cried Ashley. “Why won’t she wake up? And these things..?” she pointed to the cut tendrils.
Hodge and Tom exchanged glances. “Tis Faeries’ work,” said Tom shaking his head. “That’s a spell that is.”
Hodge nodded gravely. “Aye, so it is.”
“Surely fairies are only in stories?” said Ashley, picking up the book and smoothing the torn cover.
Hodge didn’t answer. She turned to Tom. “Get all of this out of here,” she gestured at the pile of foliage. “And burn it.”
Tom nodded. “Every last piece.” He started collecting up the debris. Ashley bent to help him. “No, Miss Ashley, leave this to me.” He turned to Hodge. “Will you go for Ceridwen?”
“Aye, I will.” She turned to Ashley. “You just sit here with your sister until I come back. She’ll come to no more harm just now. I won’t be long.”
Ashley climbed into bed beside her sleeping sister and stoked her golden curls. She must have fallen asleep as it seemed just a few minutes later when Hodge came bustling through the bedroom door followed by a tall, slim woman, dressed in long, flowing garments and carrying a large cloth bag.
“Hello child,” the woman said softly to Ashley. “I am Ceridwen,” she laid a pale hand over Bethany’s forehead and smiled.
Hodge cleared the table which stood between the sisters’ beds. Ashley watched as Ceridwen unpacked her cloth bag and carefully placed a long red candle in a star-shaped holder on the table. Next she took out an ornate silver chalice which she filled with a clear green liquid poured from a little glass bottle. Hodge left the room and closed the door quietly behind her. Ceridwen started to chant.
***
The following day, Ashley was awoken by her sister. “Wake up, Ashley,” Bethany said as she nudged her shoulder gently. “Come on, you’ve been asleep for hours.”
Ashley shook her head, trying to clear the fog of sleep from her mind.
“You must have had a very bad dream last night,” continued Bethany. “You were tossing and turning as if you were trying to fight something.”
Ashley frowned. Had it all been a dream? Like in their ‘Big Book of Fairy Tales’? She glanced at the cover of the book which lay on the bedside table. The cover was torn. She picked it up to examine it, noticing a blob of red candle wax on the table surface.
“Come on, Ashley, Tom’s making a bonfire. We can ask Hodge if we can toast some marshmallows later.” Bethany rushed from the room, the door slamming behind her. Ashley heard her clattering downstairs and calling out to Hodge. Under Ashley’s bed the forgotten seed pod rocked gently from side to side.
©2018 Chris Hall
Strange Fruit 1
“Come quickly! Ashley! Ashley!”
Ashley laid aside the book she was reading, slid off the bed and walked across to the window. She leant out. Her little sister was waving at her from the garden.
“It’s the little tree. It’s got flowers. Come and see!” Bethany cried, hopping from foot to foot.
Ashley slipped on her sandals and ran downstairs, through the open French windows and into the garden. Bethany grabbed her hand and hurried her towards the orchard, passing the pond where a fish was leaping to catch a fly. Normally Bethany would stop to admire the fish, but this morning she ran straight past, urging her older sister along.
Once inside the orchard, both sisters skidded to a halt. The little tree, which had mysteriously appeared a week ago, did indeed have flowers. From a smattering of foliage the day before, the tree had burst forth into flower. Huge, burgeoning blossoms with thick white petals and purple stamens covered the tree. More buds were unfurling as they watched. Hand in hand the two sisters approached the tree. Then Bethany cried out and pointed. A swelling was forming behind one of the flowers. As it grew they could see it was some kind of fruit. Then another appeared, and another. White petals were falling all around them like snowflakes, the scent, sweet and intoxicating, filled the air.
The sisters watched wide-eyed as the ripening fruit grew larger; long, smooth-skinned and a deep, rich purple. Then from behind the slender tree trunk, a small figure emerged. He was a little shorter than Bethany and wore a broad-brimmed hat and pointed shoes. He held out his hands to them, a luscious purple fruit in each one.
Much later in the day, the girls awoke. They couldn’t quite remember how they’d come to fall asleep in the orchard. Each recalled a delicious dream but neither girl could properly remember the details. They looked around at the little tree. It was just as it had been the day before, but when they looked at each other the front of their white pinafores were stained a delicate violet colour.
©2018 Chris Hall
Breakfast at The Adelphi
Chapter 12 of my work-in-progress novel, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’.
Visit https://lunasonline.wordpress.com/wip-novel/ to read from the start.
Much later Lucy was awoken by the bright morning light shining through the open curtains. She sat up and looked over at Pierre who was staring up at the ceiling. He turned his head and smiled.
“‘Hey, sleepy head,” he said, reaching for her hand and caressing her fingers.
“You went somewhere last night,” Lucy murmured.
“I had to pop out. I brought back a surprise for you.” He let go of her hand and leant over the edge of the bed. He plucked the leather case from the floor and laid it on the bed beside Lucy. “Let’s see what we have in here,” he said as he sprung the catches. He opened the case and took out a document holder and a large, fat envelope. “Well, go on, have a look.”
Lucy picked up the folder and leafed through the contents, her eyes widening. She looked at Pierre. “You’re going to the Isle of Man?”
“We’re going to the Isle of Man,” Pierre emphasised. “Look it’s all arranged. Ferry tickets, hotel reservations and…” he picked up the envelope and opened it. “A whole stack of cash,” he announced triumphantly.
“Oh, but…” Lucy hesitated.
“No buts, my beautiful Lucy, it’ll be fun.” Pierre paused and looked up at her with his large brown eyes. “Come on, what d’you say? It’s just a couple of days… and we’ll be able to really get to know each other.” He watched her frown and then as she stroked the ruby, her expression changed.
“I say…yes. Yes, I want to go. I really want to go,” she laughed. “Why not?”
“Right, well, first things first, let’s get some breakfast.”
Lucy was frowning again. “But where did all this come from?” she asked, pointing at the case.
“I have contacts.” Pierre touched his finger to the side of his nose.
“In the middle of the night?”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
“Well, okay, fine.” Lucy shrugged.
Pierre was already on the bedside phone ordering half the breakfast menu from room service. Lucy threw back the sheets and padded over to the bathroom. “…and we’ll be staying another night…” she heard Pierre say as she closed the door behind her.
Lucy removed her necklace before stepping into the shower. She closed her eyes and let the hot water cascade over her shoulders. As she reached for the shower gel she stopped. What have I got myself into? Those men…? She finished showering abruptly and flung one of the thick, fluffy bathrobes around herself. Lucy wiped her hand over the steamed up surface of the mirror and stared at her reflection. Everything had happened so fast. She noticed a dark bruise on her wrist and remembered how she had felled one of their attackers. She shuddered. Suddenly, Lucy was full of doubt and alarm. Heart pounding, she gripped the edge of the wash basin tightly, trying to calm down.
The bathroom door opened and Pierre’s face appeared behind hers. He picked up the necklace and held it around Lucy’s neck. A beam of sunlight from the bathroom window fell on the ruby. Its reflection glowed in the mirror bathing both their faces in a warm red glow. Lucy smiled. All her worries melted away. She felt Pierre pressing himself against her.
There was a knock at the door. “Room service,” a man’s voice called from the corridor. Pierre let go of the necklace and grabbing the other bathrobe, bounded to the door. Lucy pulled her robe tightly around her, tucking the necklace into the pocket, and followed him back into the bedroom.
Pierre opened the door to find a large, balding man beaming at him from behind a laden trolley. “Breakfast is served, sir,” he announced, wheeling the trolley over to the table by the window. “I’m Harold by the way,” he said as he busied himself laying the table for them. Table laid, he paused with his hand on the trolley ready to go and looked deliberately at Pierre. Pierre strode across the room and opened the bedroom door. Harold tutted loudly as he wheeled the trolley into the corridor.
Pierre closed the door and joined Lucy at the table. “I think he was expecting a tip,” Lucy said as he sat down.
Pierre shrugged. “I leave him something later,” he rubbed his hands together then picked up his knife and fork. “Well, let’s dig in.”
Lucy hadn’t realised how hungry she was until her breakfast was in front of her. Pierre was the same, judging by the speed at which he was putting his food away. As they ate in silence, Lucy’s mind started to race and she lost her appetite. She put her knife and fork down and pushed her plate away.
“Pierre,” Lucy hesitated.
Pierre looked up. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m just…I don’t know…those men last night. The one I hit, I don’t know what got into me. All that blood on the floor. What if I killed him?”
Pierre stood up and walked around the table. He crouched down beside her. “We were running for our lives Lucy.”
“But why, Pierre? You said they were following you. Who are they?”
“Come and sit by me,” he took Lucy’s hand and together they went and sat on the bed.
“One of them said they were after the necklace?” Lucy’s hand went to her neck.
Pierre turned to her and took both of her hands in his. “Lucy, from the first moment I met you I knew you were special.” He took a deep breath. “And now I need to tell you the truth.” Or some of it, he thought to himself. “Those men work for someone I’ve done a bit of business with now and then. Your necklace…and it is yours…I gave it to you,” he looked at her earnestly before continuing. “I originally got it for him, but when I met you I knew it should be yours.”
“So he wants it back?” Lucy freed her hand from Pierre’s and took the necklace out of the pocket of her bathrobe.
“Listen, Lucy. I gave it to you and I want you to keep it. It’s special. And I told Chan…that’s his name…that I’d get him something else. I have people working on that now,” he finished grandly.
Lucy looked at the glowing ruby, at how it caught the light and how the six-pointed star moved over its surface when she tilted it. “You could give it back to him?”
“No way,” Pierre said, taking the necklace from her and fastening it around her neck. “I told you, it’ll be sorted by the time we get back from the Isle of Man, we just have to lie low until tomorrow. In any case, I’m sure we’ve lost them by now.”
Lucy stroked the stone, feeling less anxious. “This Mr. Chan, he knows you.”
“Sure, but he doesn’t know where to find me. And now we’re going away.”
Lucy frowned. “I’ll need to go home and get some stuff.”
“No need. I’m going to take you shopping.”
“But Pierre, nothing’s open on a Sunday. Besides, you just said we should lie low.”
“That’s where the tunnels come in handy. Come on, get dressed,” he said, pulling her to her feet.
Ten minutes later they were outside the door to their room. Pierre had put most of the contents of the leather case in the safe. Lucy had wondered whether she should put the necklace in there too, but had decided to wear it after all. She was overdressed anyway, not that anyone was going to see them, Pierre had assured her.
Hand in hand they made their way to the foyer. A whole crowd of people were checking out so no-one noticed them as they ducked through the side door into the bar beyond. As Pierre and Lucy disappeared into the tunnels, a Chinese gentleman approached Harold in the busy foyer. He said something before tucking a five pound note into Harold’s top pocket.
©2018 Chris Hall
Check-in
Chapter 10 of my work-in-progress novel, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’.
Visit https://lunasonline.wordpress.com/wip-novel/ to read from the start.
From the moment the lift doors swished closed Lucy and Pierre couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Still entwined, Lucy grappled with the key and they burst into the room. Pierre kicked the door shut. Within moments they crashed onto the large double bed, leaving a trail of discarded garments behind them.
Lucy quivered feeling his hot breath on her neck as Pierre ran his hands over her nakedness. As his head moved down his long hair swept over her belly and she gasped with pleasure. Leaving her on the edge of ecstasy, he raised his head and grinned up at her, eyes glinting in the dim light from the street outside. Then his lips were on hers and Lucy tasted her saltiness on them.
Lucy reached for him, guiding him inside her. She arched her back meeting his thrusts, deeper and deeper. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, her fingers raking his back. At last he shuddered and relaxed against her. Lucy moaned in the ecstasy of the moment, clinging onto him as she convulsed with satisfaction. Sated, they nestled together and then, wrapped in each other’s arms they drifted, united on a sea of carnal pleasure.
***
Pierre’s eyes snapped open. Lucy, his beautiful Lucy, was there next to him, sound asleep. In the dim orange light he could see she was smiling ever so slightly. Perhaps she always looked like this when she was asleep. He rubbed his eyes replaying the events of the past few hours. They had a problem. He had a problem. It was he who’d dragged her into this mess. Not by intention, but by sheer…oh, what was the point in recrimination? He needed to get this sorted. He slid out of bed carefully so as not to wake her, crept around the bed and then silently put on his clothes. He picked up the gold envelope and slid it carefully into the bedside drawer beside Lucy.
Pierre slipped out of the room and started to pace the corridor. Albie Chan was clearly not a man to be trifled with. Maybe he’d underestimated him. What was so important about the ruby anyway? Okay, Chan had been interested in the piece, but Pierre had seen many other jewels where the ruby necklace had come from and he was confident he could still obtain something just as appealing to the him. But was it worth the risk? He would need more time and already he’d put Lucy in enough danger. He could simply return the ruby. But no, he wanted her to keep the ruby.
Pierre shook his head. He really couldn’t face telling Lucy the truth. Not yet. From the moment he had seen her, then danced with her that first night and afterwards when they had gone on…he had to admit it, he was obsessed with her. He wanted to…had to…hold onto her. Pierre stopped his pacing and stood still for a moment, then he turned on his heel and made for the stairs.
Pierre moved silently through the hotel and back down into the tunnel system. This time he took a different route. People would be amazed at what lay beneath the everyday streets of Liverpool. Not only was there a network of tunnels, there was a network of people all hidden within this shady underworld. Here there were people who lived out of the mainstream or led separate existences. These were people with secrets, people with powers. And Aurora, who many years ago had taken Pierre under her wing, was one of them.
His destination wasn’t far. Double checking that he was unobserved, Pierre climbed a narrow metal ladder which led up to a battered wooden door. He opened it and slipped through into the darkness beyond. He took the worn stone steps two at a time arriving at another door. This door was modern, made of steel plate with an electronic lock. Pierre punched a number into the key pad and the door unlocked with a loud metallic click. The door opened into a carpeted hallway which was lit by a succession of wall lamps. There was a flight of stairs to the left. Pierre hurried up to the first landing and paused in front of an imposing set of carved wooden doors.
At that moment one of the doors opened and a man appeared carrying a silver tray. If he were surprised by Pierre’s presence he didn’t show it, he merely nodded and held the door open for Pierre to enter.
Pierre stepped over the threshold, struck immediately by the heat of the roaring fire in the huge fireplace at the far end of the large, high-ceilinged room. Two tall, wing-backed chairs faced the fireplace. An arm appeared from the one on the left and a single finger beckoned him to approach.
***
It was some time later when Lucy awoke. At first she wasn’t sure where she was. Then the events and emotions of earlier came back to her: the delight at winning the dancing competition, the fear and excitement when those men were chasing them and the ensuing fight; Lucy shuddered at the memory of the man she’d struck lying on the floor, blood pooling around his head. Then those weird tunnels and…but where was Pierre? The bed was empty.
Switching on the bedside lamp and called his name softly, but there was no reply. She wrapped the top sheet around her and padded across the thick carpet to the bathroom. It was empty. Turning back towards the bed she saw that his clothes had gone. Hers were strewn across the floor where she had cast them off with such abandon. There was no sign of the gold envelope with what remained of their prize money after they’d paid for the room. She got back into bed and gathered the sheet around her. Where was he? Had he just left her? She raised her hand to her throat, feeling for her necklace.
Her fingers stroked the ruby gently. She looked down, watching as it caught the light, revealing the special star hidden in its depths. What was it that Cynth had said about it? Passionate, unbridled love? Well, that part had been right. She felt a thrill run through her body. Suddenly her heart was pumping.
But where was he? Lucy looked at the radio-alarm clock on the bedside table, 03:17.
©2018 Chris Hall
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