The Beginning

I love to write.  I mean I really love to write.  But am I good enough to perhaps one day get my work published? I have read everywhere the impact the countless soul destroying rejections and bad reviews can have. Whilst I have certainly written many poems, personally and for friends and family who have turned to me in their hour of writing need, have I got what it takes to write a novel.  As that is my goal, to enthrall others as so many authors have enthralled me.  How satisfying would it be for just one person (hopefully more) to read my book and say “wow, that was great”.

Everybody has to start somewhere and my start came courtesy of Blackpool and the Fylde College on a Wednesday evening with a small group of equally enthusiastic wannabe writers.  What a wonderful group of people I have had the pleasure to share my work with.  We are all different, we all want different things out of this course and we all come from different walks of life. However one thing is clear, we all love to read and have a passion to write.  We have been blessed with two wonderful tutors, both of whom have encouraged us to explore our minds, our talents and put pen to paper and begin to create our dream.

I have to confess that I started the course quite ignorant to how difficult it would actually be. I am no literary genius, I have no bachelors degree, masters degree or any degree truth be told. How on earth would I be able to write, edit and publish a book? Now 7 weeks later I feel much more confident, ambitious and believe that if I can set myself definite goals and maintain the desire to reach those goals I have much more of a chance to succeed.

Since starting the course I have now edited much of my poetry.  I have partially planned my book, written the prologue and a further 5000 words. I have undertaken the many challenges set by my tutors with great feedback and ever helpful constructive criticism.  It’s not much (baby steps) but it’s a start and I am a novice. I have done so much more in the last 7 weeks than I have done in the last 7 years. Whilst I still work hard, my children don’t seem to need me as much, unless the WiFi is down or they need a lift, thus giving me time write.  

My passion to write, which can be and has been smothered by the complicated path of life and the day to day relentless grind, has suddenly been reignited by these classes and the amazing people who were strangers to me two months ago.  My tutor said to the class one week, it was not just about the teaching but about being in a room with writers, with like-minded people who share your passion and who all feed of each other's ideas, aspirations and creativity.

One of the challenges we receive each week on the course is “the Scrabble Board Challenge” where a number of random words are provided for us (below) to use in a piece of writing.  Here is what I produced.

DI Burns looked at the massacre before him and recognised he was in the presence of the devil.  All the walls, seats and floor were pasted with the aftermath of the carnage that had taken place.  What had commenced as an educational tour had resulted in torture and dismemberment.  That this was all displayed in such a sacred place made the bile in his stomach kick and he wretched for the first time in a long time.

He gazed long and hard at the Virgin Mary splattered with the blood of the unsuspecting victims, she was unmoved, seemingly untouched by this debacle.  The Angel Gabriel looked down upon her as if his mere presence was a warning from god. He looked troubled, or maybe it was a trick of the light casting a sombre glow.

Burns was old and he was tired, he was three payslips from retirement.  He had seen too many corpses, inhaled so much blood that he felt it had rotted his brain. He was done, time served, goals more or less accomplished that is until today.  Before him lay sixteen teenagers, carefully arranged by their executioner. They were just kids, out on a school excursion as a treat for being straight A students.  Now here they were, a mangled mass of bloody faces with no graduation, no careers and no future.  Sixteen nameless faces to identify, to notify next of kin and to deal with the fallout thereafter. As the true horror of what he was witnessing washed over him like a tidal of terror he clutched the rail beside him and silently vowed for retribution.

Week 7 challenge was to create a blog, so here it is and I hope you have enjoyed it.  This is truly the beginning for me and over the next weeks, months and maybe years I hope to share my work with you and keep you updated of my progress and, of course, welcome any feedback. I am currently looking at perhaps publishing some of my poetry which is already prepared and good to go. Any direction of where to go with this would be greatly appreciated.