Anyone else writing a novel?
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Ideas come for books and I begin planning them and fleshing out the characters, but I always lack that bit of inspiration which would get me started on the actual writing side of things 
Original post by LiberiFatali
Ideas come for books and I begin planning them and fleshing out the characters, but I always lack that bit of inspiration which would get me started on the actual writing side of things
Me too, I'm finding it hard to keep myself motivated enough to write a chapter-by-chapter plan of my current novel atm, never mind actually writing the whole thing
Page 4
Esmeralda climbed wearily through the skylight onto the crow-black sloe-black tarry roof of the chip shop and sat down on an empty oil drum.
Being a soft, ruddy, country-looking girl, inclined to freckles, with big blue eyes, and curling , brown hair, and a soft voice, and rather strong abs, she was considered a little old-fashioned and 'womanly'.She was not a 'little pilchard sort of fish'...Dave called her 'Moi little larngoosteen', whatever that meant.
Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened...white breast of the dim sea...wavewhite plastic bags shimmering on the dim tide. A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bags in deeper green...the sea lay beneath her, a bowl of bitter waters.
Esmeralda was surprised that Dave the lobsterman had not recognised her the previous day in the chip shop. After all they had spent eight years in the same classroom. Dave had departed suddenly just before the CSE exams, leaving Esmeralda to enjoy a modest success in Latin, Mathematics and Pottery.
Even in those days Dave had towered over the other pupils and most of the teachers. He was three years older than the other boys in the class; his unique learning style was not easily accommodated at St Jude's school.
Dave had his first motorbike at the age of twelve, and roared up to the school gates each day with a roll-up dangling from his fleshy, devil-may-care lips.
He was destined to follow in his father's footsteps and would one day inherit the twenty foot ketch which was a familiar sight around the lobsterpots in the bay.
Esmeralda had found him uncouth and charmless in those days, although many of her friends had enjoyed rides on his machine and a puff on his roll-up.
Her mother was of the same opinion and advised Esmeralda to aim higher than a crustacean gatherer for her husband.
After leaving school Esmeralda took two years out to find herself in South America. She still had her pet jaguar Guapa to remind her of those far-off times. Guapa was her constant companion and slept on Esmeralda's bed, smelling of straw and raspberries...
to be continued
Esmeralda climbed wearily through the skylight onto the crow-black sloe-black tarry roof of the chip shop and sat down on an empty oil drum.
Being a soft, ruddy, country-looking girl, inclined to freckles, with big blue eyes, and curling , brown hair, and a soft voice, and rather strong abs, she was considered a little old-fashioned and 'womanly'.She was not a 'little pilchard sort of fish'...Dave called her 'Moi little larngoosteen', whatever that meant.
Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened...white breast of the dim sea...wavewhite plastic bags shimmering on the dim tide. A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bags in deeper green...the sea lay beneath her, a bowl of bitter waters.
Esmeralda was surprised that Dave the lobsterman had not recognised her the previous day in the chip shop. After all they had spent eight years in the same classroom. Dave had departed suddenly just before the CSE exams, leaving Esmeralda to enjoy a modest success in Latin, Mathematics and Pottery.
Even in those days Dave had towered over the other pupils and most of the teachers. He was three years older than the other boys in the class; his unique learning style was not easily accommodated at St Jude's school.
Dave had his first motorbike at the age of twelve, and roared up to the school gates each day with a roll-up dangling from his fleshy, devil-may-care lips.
He was destined to follow in his father's footsteps and would one day inherit the twenty foot ketch which was a familiar sight around the lobsterpots in the bay.
Esmeralda had found him uncouth and charmless in those days, although many of her friends had enjoyed rides on his machine and a puff on his roll-up.
Her mother was of the same opinion and advised Esmeralda to aim higher than a crustacean gatherer for her husband.
After leaving school Esmeralda took two years out to find herself in South America. She still had her pet jaguar Guapa to remind her of those far-off times. Guapa was her constant companion and slept on Esmeralda's bed, smelling of straw and raspberries...
to be continued
I have planned to, and keep meaning to, but never quite get round to it. 
Original post by Kimiechi
Me too, I'm finding it hard to keep myself motivated enough to write a chapter-by-chapter plan of my current novel atm, never mind actually writing the whole thing
Why don't you plan scenes instead and then organise them into chapters later on?
Yes, but i'm ghostwriting it for someone else. I have written and released a non-fiction book but not a novel as yet. The one i'm working on will be my first completed fictional novel but alas not under my own name and not my own story, which in some ways is easier and some ways harder. I do plan on sitting down to write one at some point but it probably won't be for a while, not until this one is done and i am also ghostwriting a non-fiction book and i need to rewrite my existing one too.
Original post by Boom.Squish
I'm trying to write something, though I've put it off until after exams.
It starts in 1913 and goes through a couple of years of the war. The premise is a girl of aristocratic blood making her debut in high society. She's looked down upon a bit as her mother eloped with a man of much lower social standing than herself then committed suicide while the father disappeared. She grows up with her aunt, uncle and cousins. She's very close to one of them but this cousin ends up marrying a man who she starts to fall in love with. Meanwhile, war is declared and things are changing in London. She gets involved in the suffragette movement, much to the chagrin of her family and throws herself into various other causes to distract herself from her complicated love life. After the husband of the cousin goes to war and she has a miscarriage, her mental health starts deteriorating and it's up to the main character to try and pick up the pieces. And lots of other stuff happens, there are various subplots concerning her parents and others, set against a period of social and political upheaval. It sounds awful when I try and sum it up here but it's not that bad!
The research for historical novels is hard though. Advice? Um, keep writing and if something doesn't work then change it, don't hold on to ideas that you know will never work the way you want them to, don't overwrite, info-dump or use too many adjectives/adverbs and show don't tell. That's all I've got
It starts in 1913 and goes through a couple of years of the war. The premise is a girl of aristocratic blood making her debut in high society. She's looked down upon a bit as her mother eloped with a man of much lower social standing than herself then committed suicide while the father disappeared. She grows up with her aunt, uncle and cousins. She's very close to one of them but this cousin ends up marrying a man who she starts to fall in love with. Meanwhile, war is declared and things are changing in London. She gets involved in the suffragette movement, much to the chagrin of her family and throws herself into various other causes to distract herself from her complicated love life. After the husband of the cousin goes to war and she has a miscarriage, her mental health starts deteriorating and it's up to the main character to try and pick up the pieces. And lots of other stuff happens, there are various subplots concerning her parents and others, set against a period of social and political upheaval. It sounds awful when I try and sum it up here but it's not that bad!
The research for historical novels is hard though. Advice? Um, keep writing and if something doesn't work then change it, don't hold on to ideas that you know will never work the way you want them to, don't overwrite, info-dump or use too many adjectives/adverbs and show don't tell. That's all I've got
Yeah, historical novels must be so hard to write. I would recommend, if you haven't already, reading some of the historical novels of Gore Vidal, and also reading and listening to his discussions about the process of writing historical novels. He says that for each of his historical novels he reads 200-300 books to get the background information o.O
Original post by madders94
the bear, can we have a thread dedicated to your masterpiece? Moreover, can we just have an appreciation page for your wonderful epic?
that is probably the way to go...
for some reason you cannot cut & paste stuff in these boxes; i will set up something soon
Glad you are enjoying the first part of the trilogy
bear
Original post by madders94
the bear, can we have a thread dedicated to your masterpiece? Moreover, can we just have an appreciation page for your wonderful epic?
you can now enjoy the whole unfolding tale on my blog:
http://thepastyisanothercountry.blogspot.com
but i will also put the new pages here as before
bear
Original post by Bella Occhi
Why don't you plan scenes instead and then organise them into chapters later on?
I've already kinda done that, I was just organising the planned events into a coherent chapter order to give me a plan of what to write when it comes to writing the full thing. However, I have now completed the chapter-by-chapter plan (there will be 45 chapters in all), and am about to start writing up the novel in full. I have exactly two months to write the whole novel (aiming for around 75,000 words).
Page 5
Sergeant Cowie toyed with his pasty. Since moving to the South West Peninsula the previous month he had developed a love-hate relationship with the local delicacy.
On the whole he preferred the offerings from the local chip-shop; this meant queuing for at least twenty minutes whatever time of day he turned up.
However the extended wait gave him time to chat to Esmeralda, the alluring siren who presided over the shop. Sergeant Cowie was engaged to be married to his long-time fiancee Lorna in Edinburgh... but he saw no harm in his innocent flirtation with the purveyor of deep-fried comestibles.
The ostensible reason for his transfer from the Dumfries constabulary to Cornwall was as an experiment with inter-force cooperation between Scotland and England.
The real reason was to investigate rumours of child abduction and worse in the tight-knit fishing community.
Anonymous letters written on what appeared to be chip-wrappers had arrived at Scotland Yard accusing local businessmen & women of frankly bizarre crimes.
The decision to send him was finally taken when a specific accusation concerning a local child Rowena Morris was made.
So far Cowie had made only a few tentative enquiries in the area, all of which met with blank looks at best and veiled threats to his well-being at worst.
He decided that by cultivating Esmeralda he might be able to penetrate the veil of secrecy which enveloped the village... if that required penetrating Esmeralda then that was a price he was willing to pay...
to be continued
trebear
the whole tale so far is at http://thepastyisanothercountry.blogspot.com
Sergeant Cowie toyed with his pasty. Since moving to the South West Peninsula the previous month he had developed a love-hate relationship with the local delicacy.
On the whole he preferred the offerings from the local chip-shop; this meant queuing for at least twenty minutes whatever time of day he turned up.
However the extended wait gave him time to chat to Esmeralda, the alluring siren who presided over the shop. Sergeant Cowie was engaged to be married to his long-time fiancee Lorna in Edinburgh... but he saw no harm in his innocent flirtation with the purveyor of deep-fried comestibles.
The ostensible reason for his transfer from the Dumfries constabulary to Cornwall was as an experiment with inter-force cooperation between Scotland and England.
The real reason was to investigate rumours of child abduction and worse in the tight-knit fishing community.
Anonymous letters written on what appeared to be chip-wrappers had arrived at Scotland Yard accusing local businessmen & women of frankly bizarre crimes.
The decision to send him was finally taken when a specific accusation concerning a local child Rowena Morris was made.
So far Cowie had made only a few tentative enquiries in the area, all of which met with blank looks at best and veiled threats to his well-being at worst.
He decided that by cultivating Esmeralda he might be able to penetrate the veil of secrecy which enveloped the village... if that required penetrating Esmeralda then that was a price he was willing to pay...
to be continued
trebear
the whole tale so far is at http://thepastyisanothercountry.blogspot.com
(edited 12 years ago)
Original post by Kimiechi
Hi I just wondered if any other TSR'ers were writing a novel (I am!). If you are, please comment with a synopsis of your storyline, any writing tips, etc. I just thought it would be good for fellow teenage novelists to chat and support each other in their writing!
To start things off, the novel I'm writing is about a girl who gains a scholarship to a private boarding school, but when she gets there it turns out it is a school for witches, and she is a witch (I know this sounds really Harry Potter-ish, but trust me, it's not). She also has a special affinity for water, which is unheard of in history except for one person - the most powerful witch ever. The main character then goes on to discover that she has been given this gift for a reason - it is up to her to fight against another girl, who is like the reincarnation of the powerful witch's evil sister. This girl is trying to raise this evil sister from the dead, so she can regain the control of the world that the good witch took from her. So basically the two end up involved in an eternal fight of good versus evil.
This sounds really confusing, and its because the actual storyline is waay more complicated, with loads of vital sub-plots etc, so its quite hard to sum it all up concisely.
Please contribute to this forum if you are writing a novel, we would love to hear your ideas!
To start things off, the novel I'm writing is about a girl who gains a scholarship to a private boarding school, but when she gets there it turns out it is a school for witches, and she is a witch (I know this sounds really Harry Potter-ish, but trust me, it's not). She also has a special affinity for water, which is unheard of in history except for one person - the most powerful witch ever. The main character then goes on to discover that she has been given this gift for a reason - it is up to her to fight against another girl, who is like the reincarnation of the powerful witch's evil sister. This girl is trying to raise this evil sister from the dead, so she can regain the control of the world that the good witch took from her. So basically the two end up involved in an eternal fight of good versus evil.
This sounds really confusing, and its because the actual storyline is waay more complicated, with loads of vital sub-plots etc, so its quite hard to sum it all up concisely.
Please contribute to this forum if you are writing a novel, we would love to hear your ideas!
Wow, sounds very Harry Potter-ish.
I'm sure that it'll be original though. How long have you been writing it for? Making good progress?I'm writing the first in a seven-book series on six children growing up in a village in Newcastle; it's kinda like Skins-best analogy I can think of. I've written one beforehand, when I was fifteen, but it wasn't very good, so I'm going all-out for this one.
Original post by Retrodiction
Yeah, historical novels must be so hard to write. I would recommend, if you haven't already, reading some of the historical novels of Gore Vidal, and also reading and listening to his discussions about the process of writing historical novels. He says that for each of his historical novels he reads 200-300 books to get the background information o.O
200-300 books?! That's slightly scary...and very dedicated. But thanks, I'll have a look at his stuff! I think for what I'm writing, the historical aspect is more the setting rather than the focus of the novel but I definitely do need to do more research.
Original post by KingMessi
Wow, sounds very Harry Potter-ish. I'm sure that it'll be original though. How long have you been writing it for? Making good progress?
I'm writing the first in a seven-book series on six children growing up in a village in Newcastle; it's kinda like Skins-best analogy I can think of. I've written one beforehand, when I was fifteen, but it wasn't very good, so I'm going all-out for this one.
I'm sure that it'll be original though. How long have you been writing it for? Making good progress?I'm writing the first in a seven-book series on six children growing up in a village in Newcastle; it's kinda like Skins-best analogy I can think of. I've written one beforehand, when I was fifteen, but it wasn't very good, so I'm going all-out for this one.
I think I've mentioned this previously, but it was probably a few pages ago so you probably didn't see, but I've scrapped this story. Everyone I tell the plot to likens it to Harry Potter, which it is nothing like at all, and it was getting really complicated plot-wise, I wrote like 27,000 words without making any significant progress into the plot time-wise, so I decided to start afresh on a completely different plot that can't be likened to a popular book (although people have likened it to stuff, but a lot more obscure than Harry Potter).
Page 6
Sergeant Cowie left the office just after 1 am. He decided to walk home the long way via the harbour to enjoy the cool breeze from the ocean... the wide, wide ocean.
His crow-black, sloe-black shoes rapped out a military beat as he strode down the steep cobbled lane in the direction of the Cobb.
As he passed the chip shop he was surprised to see a familiar figure on the roof.
Pausing to adjust his night-vision goggles he gave Esmeralda a friendly wave. She seemed pleased to see the policeman and asked him to join her on the roof.
Sergeant Cowie scrambled up via the large metal dumpster at the side of the shop and a rusty ladder.
Esmeralda had retrieved some still-edible food items from the dumpster earlier in the evening.
Sergeant Cowie selected a jumbo sized sausage roll and a pickled egg from the bag which Esmeralda proferred. He removed his goggles and placed them gently on the roof with his helmet.
They did not speak for several minutes... then Esmeralda asked " We are both looking for something I think Sergeant..."
"Everyone is looking for something , everyone is looking for someone..." replied the Hibernian law enforcement worker.
Esmeralda leant over slowly to remove some sausage roll crumbs from Cowie's shirt. Her auburn tresses brushed his lips...
"Please ...I am engaged to be married..." he gasped, but they both knew that the time for words had passed...
Esmeralda silenced him with a large saveloy which she had been saving at the bottom of the bag.
She expertly removed his uniform and folded it tidily behind the air-conditioning unit.
The static electricity from her golden hair briefly illuminated her flushed face as she pulled the green tabard over her head.
Sergeant Cowie lay back chewing thoughtfully on the saveloy. Somewhere at the back of his mind a disturbing thought flickered but it slipped away. Surely Esmeralda could not be involved in Rowena's disappearance ?
Cowie put all thoughts of the case to one side and concentrated on pleasuring the wanton chip-shop manageress.
Esmeralda enjoyed their congress but could not help comparing Cowie to Dave the lobster... at least she would be able to walk straight in the morning.
Half an hour later Cowie staggered in to his lodgings, taking care not to wake his elderly landlady Mrs Ginster.
The other lodger was the barmaid from the local tavern, a comely wench called Willow. Cowie could hear her muffled voice singing some sort of local song which she accompanied with slaps on the wall.
Cowie quickly fell asleep and dreamt that he had got his truncheon out and was playing cadenzas by the pump, on a xylophone made of saveloys and on the roof of the chip-shop the usual suspects were doing the can-can...
to be continued
read the whole story so far at http://thepastyisanothercountry.blogspot.com
Sergeant Cowie left the office just after 1 am. He decided to walk home the long way via the harbour to enjoy the cool breeze from the ocean... the wide, wide ocean.
His crow-black, sloe-black shoes rapped out a military beat as he strode down the steep cobbled lane in the direction of the Cobb.
As he passed the chip shop he was surprised to see a familiar figure on the roof.
Pausing to adjust his night-vision goggles he gave Esmeralda a friendly wave. She seemed pleased to see the policeman and asked him to join her on the roof.
Sergeant Cowie scrambled up via the large metal dumpster at the side of the shop and a rusty ladder.
Esmeralda had retrieved some still-edible food items from the dumpster earlier in the evening.
Sergeant Cowie selected a jumbo sized sausage roll and a pickled egg from the bag which Esmeralda proferred. He removed his goggles and placed them gently on the roof with his helmet.
They did not speak for several minutes... then Esmeralda asked " We are both looking for something I think Sergeant..."
"Everyone is looking for something , everyone is looking for someone..." replied the Hibernian law enforcement worker.
Esmeralda leant over slowly to remove some sausage roll crumbs from Cowie's shirt. Her auburn tresses brushed his lips...
"Please ...I am engaged to be married..." he gasped, but they both knew that the time for words had passed...
Esmeralda silenced him with a large saveloy which she had been saving at the bottom of the bag.
She expertly removed his uniform and folded it tidily behind the air-conditioning unit.
The static electricity from her golden hair briefly illuminated her flushed face as she pulled the green tabard over her head.
Sergeant Cowie lay back chewing thoughtfully on the saveloy. Somewhere at the back of his mind a disturbing thought flickered but it slipped away. Surely Esmeralda could not be involved in Rowena's disappearance ?
Cowie put all thoughts of the case to one side and concentrated on pleasuring the wanton chip-shop manageress.
Esmeralda enjoyed their congress but could not help comparing Cowie to Dave the lobster... at least she would be able to walk straight in the morning.
Half an hour later Cowie staggered in to his lodgings, taking care not to wake his elderly landlady Mrs Ginster.
The other lodger was the barmaid from the local tavern, a comely wench called Willow. Cowie could hear her muffled voice singing some sort of local song which she accompanied with slaps on the wall.
Cowie quickly fell asleep and dreamt that he had got his truncheon out and was playing cadenzas by the pump, on a xylophone made of saveloys and on the roof of the chip-shop the usual suspects were doing the can-can...
to be continued
read the whole story so far at http://thepastyisanothercountry.blogspot.com
(edited 12 years ago)
Some of these stories sound amazing (some of them aren't my type of book but still sound great) I was thinking about writing a story actually I've had work published in the past and always wanted to take writing back up (not done any in about 2 years)
page 7
The headmistress of St Jude's school smoothed back her greying hair and tucked a few stray fronds into her tight bun. The sports fields stretched away into the distance below her window.
Tomorrow was the annual sports day and the weather forecast for once was favourable.
She swivelled round widdershins in her new Ikea chair to face the door.
Her deputy was loitering just outside the office, expecting to hear some instructions from on high. He was not disappointed..."Oh there you are Mr Horniman. Have you prepared the guest list for tomorrow ?"
Horniman blushed uncontrollably and stammered "the list, erm, why yes I have it right here Headmistress " and handed his boss the single sheet of typed paper.
"I see that you have invited Sergeant Cowie... did you not think to consult me first ? Surely I should be made aware immediately of any police involvement in the school ?"
Horniman hated it when she called him Surely.
"But Headmistress this is not official business... just an invitation to the sports day...he may not even accept"
"How dare you contradict me Mr Horniman" the furious pedagogue screamed "You disgust me you vile vile....MAN"
Horniman knew that it was not worth replying and retreated to his much smaller office down the corridor.
He was well aware that The Headmistress was not a huge fan of the police for some reason, and he should have been less eager to invite Sergeant Cowie.
Cowie seemed a decent sort in spite of his profession. Horniman's fiancee Esmeralda reported that he had settled well into village life, and was a regular customer at the chip shop. Horniman was glad that Esmeralda was widening her social circle. The local fishermen and their wives were the salt of the earth but very unstimulating company for anyone with interests beyond crustaceans and nappies. Poor Esmeralda had these last few days volunteered to help Dave the lobster with his paperwork... the inspectors from the fish ministry wanted to check his quotas. Esmeralda was the only person Dave knew who could read properly and had not been assaulted by him.
Horniman had offered but Esmeralda said that Dave was uncomfortable with male teachers.
Tomorrow was the first day of May and the whole village was expected to turn out for the sports at school. Each year Horniman was responsible for the group photograph. These portraits of the village were hung along the corridor separating his office from the inner sanctum of the Headmistress. Children waiting to be punished were able to see what their parents had looked like when they attended St Jude's.
Horniman checked his equipment carefully. He had considered buying a digital camera but for now would persevere with his ancient Rollei.
Last year's picture had been less than satisfactory and the Headmistress had removed it from the corridor.
Horniman had not told the Headmistress that he had asked the dour policeman to present the trophies tomorrow. She would find out soon enough.
The trophies glistened softly in the cabinet in the corner of Horniman's office. He had personally polished them the previous day. So many familiar names... Pengale, Penhelly, Penrose, Penwith, Penthis, Penthat, ....
Glancing at his watch Horniman decided that he could slip down to the chip shop for lunch. He tiptoed out of the office and down the stairs. Fortunately the Headmistress was engrossed in her Readers' Digest and did not hear him escape.
Horniman squeezed through the gap in the green chain link fence behind the gymnasium and headed downhill towards the harbour. He lit up his first cigarette of the day... a bulky roll-up which he had confiscated from Donna Penbarry, a pert year 5 whom he had apprehended with her mates behind the music block that very morning.
Horniman inhaled deeply and felt his troubles melt away. He hummed to himself as he approached the chip shop. The £10 which he had demanded from Donna as the price of his silence would buy a splendid luncheon.
Horniman finished the contraband cigarette and flicked the stub into the crow-black, sloe-black dustbin at the edge of the pavement.
Entering the shop he saw Esmeralda hurriedly move away from Sergeant Cowie, who was clutching a large red saveloy at waist level. Horniman was pleased to see them both and embraced Cowie warmly.
"I will have one of those saveloys too methinks Esmeralda !!" he said, although his speech sounded slurred and he found it difficult to focus.
"And a large portion of that Guacamole too" he said, waving in the direction of the mushy peas.
Before he passed out Horniman seemed to see Cowie tucking the saveloy into his trousers... surely Esmeralda could have given him a bag he thought as his legs gave way...
to be continued
The headmistress of St Jude's school smoothed back her greying hair and tucked a few stray fronds into her tight bun. The sports fields stretched away into the distance below her window.
Tomorrow was the annual sports day and the weather forecast for once was favourable.
She swivelled round widdershins in her new Ikea chair to face the door.
Her deputy was loitering just outside the office, expecting to hear some instructions from on high. He was not disappointed..."Oh there you are Mr Horniman. Have you prepared the guest list for tomorrow ?"
Horniman blushed uncontrollably and stammered "the list, erm, why yes I have it right here Headmistress " and handed his boss the single sheet of typed paper.
"I see that you have invited Sergeant Cowie... did you not think to consult me first ? Surely I should be made aware immediately of any police involvement in the school ?"
Horniman hated it when she called him Surely.
"But Headmistress this is not official business... just an invitation to the sports day...he may not even accept"
"How dare you contradict me Mr Horniman" the furious pedagogue screamed "You disgust me you vile vile....MAN"
Horniman knew that it was not worth replying and retreated to his much smaller office down the corridor.
He was well aware that The Headmistress was not a huge fan of the police for some reason, and he should have been less eager to invite Sergeant Cowie.
Cowie seemed a decent sort in spite of his profession. Horniman's fiancee Esmeralda reported that he had settled well into village life, and was a regular customer at the chip shop. Horniman was glad that Esmeralda was widening her social circle. The local fishermen and their wives were the salt of the earth but very unstimulating company for anyone with interests beyond crustaceans and nappies. Poor Esmeralda had these last few days volunteered to help Dave the lobster with his paperwork... the inspectors from the fish ministry wanted to check his quotas. Esmeralda was the only person Dave knew who could read properly and had not been assaulted by him.
Horniman had offered but Esmeralda said that Dave was uncomfortable with male teachers.
Tomorrow was the first day of May and the whole village was expected to turn out for the sports at school. Each year Horniman was responsible for the group photograph. These portraits of the village were hung along the corridor separating his office from the inner sanctum of the Headmistress. Children waiting to be punished were able to see what their parents had looked like when they attended St Jude's.
Horniman checked his equipment carefully. He had considered buying a digital camera but for now would persevere with his ancient Rollei.
Last year's picture had been less than satisfactory and the Headmistress had removed it from the corridor.
Horniman had not told the Headmistress that he had asked the dour policeman to present the trophies tomorrow. She would find out soon enough.
The trophies glistened softly in the cabinet in the corner of Horniman's office. He had personally polished them the previous day. So many familiar names... Pengale, Penhelly, Penrose, Penwith, Penthis, Penthat, ....
Glancing at his watch Horniman decided that he could slip down to the chip shop for lunch. He tiptoed out of the office and down the stairs. Fortunately the Headmistress was engrossed in her Readers' Digest and did not hear him escape.
Horniman squeezed through the gap in the green chain link fence behind the gymnasium and headed downhill towards the harbour. He lit up his first cigarette of the day... a bulky roll-up which he had confiscated from Donna Penbarry, a pert year 5 whom he had apprehended with her mates behind the music block that very morning.
Horniman inhaled deeply and felt his troubles melt away. He hummed to himself as he approached the chip shop. The £10 which he had demanded from Donna as the price of his silence would buy a splendid luncheon.
Horniman finished the contraband cigarette and flicked the stub into the crow-black, sloe-black dustbin at the edge of the pavement.
Entering the shop he saw Esmeralda hurriedly move away from Sergeant Cowie, who was clutching a large red saveloy at waist level. Horniman was pleased to see them both and embraced Cowie warmly.
"I will have one of those saveloys too methinks Esmeralda !!" he said, although his speech sounded slurred and he found it difficult to focus.
"And a large portion of that Guacamole too" he said, waving in the direction of the mushy peas.
Before he passed out Horniman seemed to see Cowie tucking the saveloy into his trousers... surely Esmeralda could have given him a bag he thought as his legs gave way...
to be continued
(edited 12 years ago)
Original post by Profesh
Technically, yes, although I've written slightly over a chapter in the two years since I began. Who wants to read it?
im interested.
send over PM.Quick Reply
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