Discussion:
OT: Writing Part 1
Add Reply
BrritSki
2017-10-04 12:25:24 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
The recent discussion with Sid about his writing made me think about my
own writing which I did regularly around 2001. Umrats have been very
kind about my "William the OAP" pastiche in the past, so here I offer
another piece I wrote back then.
In the spritit of Krait (ObTA), I'd be very interested to know what
people think, whether the idea has merit at all and what in particular
needs improving. I have some ideas of my own reading it again after 16
years, but I'd like to know what umra thinks.

Stones

Geoff stroked his dragon. It lay asleep as always, draped over and into
the hillside, dreaming silently, drooling into the swollen stream. He
groomed it slowly and lovingly, working up the slope as usual from the
head to the tail. A shy smile spread across his face as he completed his
work.
“There old girl, that’s put you straight for another day or two.”
Straightening up slowly, he wiped his face as he looked around. He heard
the rumble of thunder in the distance. The moors were still overhung
with thick cloud, the reduced light leaching the colour from everything
below. The subtle purples and greens were now just shades of grey, cut
through with slashes of black. Streams exposed the underlying peat even
in dry summers. This year with the seemingly endless rain, the erosion
had cut scars deeper than ever and it seemed that the whole world might
be washed away.
He let his gaze flow down the water courses that fed his dale,
lingering briefly to look at the house on the opposite side of the
valley. He caught a flicker of movement at the window and wondered how
his new neighbour was settling in.
“A new planting should always be watered in well” he said to himself. He
chuckled and then forgot about the stranger as he looked down at his
true love.
Most westerners think that Japanese gardens are always modelled on
rivers or the sea, but Geoff felt that there was enough water in his
life. So instead he had taken as his theme another great natural force
of the Orient. Or rather the dragon had taken him.
He had seen it lying there when he’d first looked at the house all those
years earlier. He knew immediately that he had to buy the property even
though it took everything he had then and would have for some time to come.
The dragon was well hidden as they always are. He had to get to know it
slowly, approaching it from various directions at different times of day
in the changing seasons, familiarising himself with its contours in a
variety of lights.
“Are you well my lovely ?” he would ask repeatedly over the months,
gently assuring it of his best intentions.
“You guard your hoard well, but it’s safe from me” he swore. Stealing it
was the last thing he was thinking of, having given up his own pile of
gold in the city he’d left, buried with all his early life.
As his courtship continued he gradually learned something of the wyrm’s
character and its feminine wiles. It would not reveal its name to him
yet, but he knew when it was time for him to coax some more of the shape
of the creature from the hillside. It was not a job to be rushed though
and that suited him. He had all the time in the world.
The tail needed little work, the barely exposed edge of gritstone was
already eroded and broken into serrations. Lower down, the fat, relaxed
body was covered in a layer of peat. He had enjoyed the rich smell of it
as he scraped it away and replaced it with dark gravel edged with larger
stones that he’d carried from a ruined dry-stone wall further up the moor.
The stone chippings had to be tended regularly and at first this had
taken hours each time. Geoff found that raking in two different
directions to form the diamond-shaped scales on the skin did not work.
The second pass of the rake partially blocked the troughs formed on the
first. Eventually he had devised a tool that would do the whole thing in
one go. First he levelled the stones and remove any debris, and then the
scaler would be brought into play. Its roller smoothed the gravel,
supported the head of the rake and drove an intricate system of gears
and cams that moved the individual tines from side to side to form the
pattern of scales. As it worked it always reminded him of a seismograph
lazily recording the tiny earth tremors that it was triggering below.
The one visible rear leg of the beast was hooked round a natural rock
outcrop to stop a gradual slide down the hill. The front legs were
hidden by more peat and had to be carefully freed to reveal how they
were supporting the head in the form of another natural boulder. That in
itself was gradually exposed to reveal a hint of the dragon’s features.
This had all been completed two years before at winter’s end and he had
been thanked for his efforts by a gift from the dragon. A small spring
appeared at the base of the head rock so that it appeared that the
dragon was giving its life fluid to the ground on which it lay. When he
saw this Geoff smiled for the first time in years and since then all his
happy hours had been spent in the garden.
He had made his own offering to the dragon in his turn. He had a small
silver cup made, rounded at the bottom and encircled with a thin ring of
gold. He concealed this in the pool fed by the spring and drank from it
during the hot days of summer. It refreshed him and over the months he
felt the power of dragon flowing into him and healing the pain of his
previous life.
BrritSki
2017-10-04 12:26:44 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Mrs. Fujimori let the curtain fall back across the window. She thought
how lucky her neighbour was to have finished his gardening in the dry.
It would rain again soon. The clouds were gathering and she could smell
it, faint against the pervasive background of damp, but still clearly
coming. Were her schooldays in Sussex always dry and warm, or was it all
just false childhood memories of golden days in England ?
Her computer beeped and announced
“N ten.”
She looked at the screen and the Go board that was represented there.
The newly placed piece was flashing at the co-ordinates that had been
spoken. Row fourteen, column ten. To a casual observer the stones seemed
to be scattered at random, but there was a discernible pattern to an
expert player even this early in the game. She decided on her response
and spoke:
“A five.”
The computer displayed her move and relayed it to her opponent half-way
across the world.
While she waited, she looked out of the window again. Her days at
Cambridge University in her memory all seemed to be bathed in sunlight
too. She didn’t remember it being so nice when they were at home in
Japan between her father’s Embassy postings, so maybe her time here had
been better. Or perhaps even then she unconsciously felt like a stranger
in her birthland. She certainly looked the part, black hair, petite,
flat features and almond eyes, but something of her time in the West
had rubbed off on her. Her figure was more shapely and she emphasised it
with the clothes she wore and brought out what little facial relief
there was with her makeup. But mainly it was her outlook on life that
was different. She didn’t feel Japanese.
This feeling had come to a head the year before when she rebelled
against her role as a traditional housewife. The problem had started as
soon as they were married and she realised what her husband’s
expectations were. Her resentment had been bubbling along nicely for
three years. Their move to the English subsidiary of his company had
been the catalyst. The reminder of how people lived in London had only
served to emphasise the difference between what she wanted and what he
demanded.
In an act of desperation, she had simply walked out and left him, put
all the details of their separation into her solicitor’s hands and
disappeared. When the settlement was agreed, she’d used her money to buy
this house and settled down to perfecting her game of Go in solitude.
She was already a powerful player at a national level and intended to
become internationally recognised and that meant constant practice.
The machine announced the next move, but she ignored it. She’d seen a
movement across the valley. The tall, dark man was going inside. Marita
had been comforted by the thought of someone nearby when she’d first
looked out from this window across the snow-covered valley and seen
lights on in the house. She didn’t want company so she’d made no attempt
to introduce herself to her new neighbour, but she didn’t want complete
isolation either. She just liked to watch him working away in his
unhurried, methodical way and now that pleasure was over for another day.
When she’d seen him the first few times she was puzzled by his
behaviour. He came out of his house every day and stood in various
places in his garden, contemplating the ground that was covered in snow.
She didn’t understand why he was so interested in this flat area with
only a few snow-capped stones sticking up to relieve the boredom. But as
the snow melted she slowly came to realise what his fascination was. Her
pleasure in his presence had turned to dismay as the dragon gradually
appeared and she recognised the Japanese garden. But despite this
constant reminder of her origins, she found the Englishman’s obsession
increased his attraction and now, weeks after she’d moved in, she wanted
to get to know him better.
BrritSki
2017-10-04 12:27:53 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
On 04/10/2017 14:26, BrritSki wrote:
The hawk hung in the air, a flapping crucifix, waving madly at its prey
below.
“I’m here, your nemesis, say goodbye” it seemed to say.
Marita watched the bird as she climbed the hill out of the valley. As
she drew closer it took fright and veered off, terrorised in its turn.
She stepped off the faint path that she was following to see if she
could see what had attracted its attention. It was only this small
deviation that brought the sheep into view. It was tangled in a twist of
old barbed wire, lying at the bottom of a miniature peat valley.
As she approached the animal it struggled again, tightening the wire in
its fleece and trapping itself more securely, increasing its panic. She
tried to free it but the sheep’s bucking and pulling against the barbs
made it impossible. She needed help.
She ran back down the hill, but before the river became too wide she
crossed to the opposite side so that she eventually came to the rear of
her neighbour’s house. She knocked on the door.
Geoff opened the door with a look of surprise. Not many people visited
him, those that did usually came by car, and they never came to the back
door. His surprise deepened when he saw the lovely Japanese woman
standing there and he had to consciously stop his mouth dropping open
when she spoke to him in perfect, unaccented English.
“There’s a sheep trapped on the hill. Can you come and help me to free
it please ?”
“Yes of course” he stammered. “Hold on while I get my boots and a coat.”
“If you have some wire-cutters, they might be useful too.”
He put on his outdoor gear and picked up a pair of pliers and some
heavier bolt-cutters from his toolbox.
“Right. Where is the beast ?”
“Follow me” she said and turned and strode off back up the hill.
He was surprised by the speed at which she moved. She was small but took
quick, long strides that ate up the ground. He kept up with her easily,
but did not have to slow from his normal pace.
“Have you moved into the house across the stream from me ?”
“Yes. Oh, I’m sorry, my name’s Marita Fujimori. Pleased to meet you.”
“Geoff Perdue” he replied. He held out his hand and received a brief,
firm handshake.
“I’ve lived here for a few years now. Your house was owned before by an
old man who hardly ever went outside, so it was like living up here on
my own.”
“Did you prefer that ?”
“Well, to start with it was exactly what I needed, peace and quiet, time
to think.”
He cut himself short. He was perhaps revealing more of himself than he
wanted. He looked at the woman who was still striding up the hill,
intent on her goal. She turned her head and looked back and he felt the
power of her tarry eyes as she regarded him with curiosity.
“Sometimes that’s what we all need.”
He thought about her words as they continued climbing, but re-focussed
his attention as she turned off the path and jumped down a small bank
to where a sheep lay struggling.
“Right, I’ll hold it still, you cut the wire” he said, assuming command
unthinkingly.
“OK. I think if I cut here.” Snip. “And here.” Snip. “It should be free.”
The bolt-cutters went through the thin wire like scissors cutting
thread. Geoff let go of the sheep and it struggled to its feet and
jumped over him to get away from the woman. In doing so its rear hoof
kicked Geoff just above the ear. He rolled over clutching his head and
then pulled his hands away and, examining them, saw a smudge of blood.
“Sit there” Marita commanded in her turn. “I’ll get something to clean it.”
She took out a clean handkerchief and dipped it in the stream. Returning
to his side she gently cleaned the cut. He winced as she pressed on the
bruise.
“I don’t think it’s serious, but you should sit there for a few minutes
before you try walking.”
“Alright” he said smiling ruefully. “So much for peace and quiet in my
valley. And now I can’t think straight either.”
“I’m sure everything will return to normal in time.”
He considered this. Did he want it to ?
“What’s normal ? I haven’t always lived up here like this you know.”
She looked at him curiously again and he felt compelled to answer the
unspoken questions that he saw there in the black depths.
“No” he sighed. “I was the original yuppie. I had a nice job in the
City. Not one of the really high flyers, but I was nicely off. I met a
nice girl and we married.”
“And then ?”
“And then it all went horribly wrong. My boss cheated on his wife. Not
very unusual back there even then, but when they split up he was a
complete bastard. Treated her awfully, she had to fight him for every
penny and he hid a lot of it from her. I probably wouldn’t have said
anything, but when Dad died, I guess I lost some inhibition and one day
I told dear old Jock Long what I thought of him. A few weeks later he
found an excuse to fire me.”
“Not a very honourable response, especially just after your bereavement.”
“Oh he didn’t know about that.” He considered how much to tell her and
decided to give her the complete story.
“The family kept that very quiet. Suicide. He ran a village Post Office
that was robbed and because he hadn’t followed the exact procedures, he
was sued for the amount that was stolen. It wasn’t a huge amount, I
could have paid it off easily. Gladly. But it was the shame. He thought
he’d let everyone down.”
“An honourable tradition in old Japan. Honour must run in the family.”
Geoff laughed bitterly. “If that’s true it’s only on my side.”
“What do you mean – your wife ?”
“Exactly. She wasn’t the nice girl that I thought she was. It turned out
that Jock had had a little fling with her early in our marriage. And
once I lost my job and my salary and bonuses she was off for greener
pastures. Took half my money with her though, so I sold the house in
Islington and moved up here with just enough left to live on.”
She looked down at him and decided that now was not the time to tell him
that she’d left her husband too, albeit for different reasons.
“Come on, I think you’re fit enough t walk now, so we’d better get you
home.”
The walked in silence back down the hill. It was dusk and they had to
watch where they put their feet in the gloom. It had started to drizzle
again which washed the soapy smell of the sheep’s wool off their outer
clothes.
They reached the point where the river widened and stopped.
“Thank you for coming to help.”
“That’s OK, it was my pleasure. It was nice to meet you.”
“Yes, it was nice to meet you too.”
“Good, well goodbye then.”
“Good… Er… Would you like to come for tea tomorrow ?” Marita astonished
herself with the invitation. The words had come out on their own without
thought or premeditation.
“Well. Yes, it would be an honour.” Geoff replied with a shy smile.
They separated and continued the walk to their respective homes on
opposite sides of the river, in silence again but both smiling now as
they glanced across at each other from time to time.
BrritSki
2017-10-04 12:28:37 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
On 04/10/2017 14:27, BrritSki wrote:
As Geoff drove up the valley the next day the clouds over the moor were
darkening and edging towards him. He reached the parking area in front
of Mrs Fujimori’s house and stopped. The first heavy drops of rain were
splashing on the car windscreen. He looked across the valley at his own
house. It was only fifty yards away, a short stroll, but barred by the
swollen stream so he had had a five minute drive down the track on his
side of the river and then back up on the other side.
From this viewpoint the dragon looked strange, unusual. Unnatural even
and it unsettled him somehow. He got out of the car and strode towards
the front door as the rain started to fall more quickly.
Before he got there the door opened and Geoff stopped as he saw Marita
standing in the doorway. Heedless of the downpour, he stood and stared.
She was wearing a traditional Japanese silk kimono with a high sash. Her
hair was piled high and held in place with this wooden combs. But most
striking of all was her face. Only the cherry ripe lips held any colour,
the rest was pure white.
“Welcome Geoff, to my little part of Japan” she bowed.
Lightning flashed, turning everything momentarily monochrome. Her lips
turned black to match her hair. The crack of thunder followed almost
immediately. He took a pace forward under the cover of the porch.
“I wasn’t expecting… erm… to see you… like this” he replied.
“A traditional Japanese tea ceremony. I thought you’d like that, you
seem fond of my culture with your garden and the things we discussed
yesterday.
“I’m flattered. But… no. It’s not what I like at all” he said slowly.
“What did we discuss yesterday that made you think I would ?”
“All the talk of honour, you and your father.”
She was cut short by another bolt of lightning and crash of thunder.
Geoff exploded in his turn.
“Honour ? My father ?” he shouted. “What he did wasn’t honourable, it
was selfishness. It was a betrayal of the living. My mother still needed
him and his death killed her. It cost me my job too. I wouldn’t have
confronted my boss if I hadn’t been so upset. What I did wasn’t
honourable, it was just stupid.”
Marita looked back at him in disbelief. She spoke more loudly than she
wanted to, to be heard above the rain.
“But, I thought, what you did was because of your wife.”
“Jesus” said Geoff. “I didn’t care about her. All she did was spend my
money on frippery, make-up and ridiculous outfits. The real woman was
always hidden” he paused “just like you are. Why can’t you just be
natural ?”
“Natural ?” It was her turn to be angry now. “Natural ? How can you talk
about natural when you have that Oriental dragon draped across a
Derbyshire hillside ?”
This time the lightning and thunder came simultaneously, but the sound
of the thunder continued in a low rumble. Geoff turned to look at his
beloved dragon. He’d heard it calling its name. Krax.
As he watched it started to move. Slowly the head crept forward. The
gravel and the outlining stones started to follow. The rear leg unhooked
itself from the rocky outcrop and slid down the slope after the rest of
the beast. Quicker now, the whole hillsides seemed to be moving and
slipping into the stream.
He ran down the dale and across the now blocked river. He scrabbled in
the debris searching for the silver cup he had hidden in the spring by
the dragon’s head. In his frenzy he hurled the rocks aside, behind him,
anywhere, but he knew it was no good. The slide was too deep. If he
couldn’t even see the headstone, what chance did he have of finding the
cup. He stood up and looked at his garden. It was completely natural
now. Just peat and stone outcrops.
He wiped the rain from his face and turned and looked at the stream. The
narrow cut had been filled by the landslip and now the torrent was a
wide, shallow rivulet. The stones he had been throwing about haphazardly
had landed in a pattern of stepping stones across it.
He looked at Marita who was standing on the middle stone. Her kimono was
covered in mud, her combs had gone and the pouring rain had washed the
white make up from her face.
“That’s better he said, walking towards her. “Much more natural”.

END
J. P. Gilliver (John)
2017-10-04 17:50:44 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
[]
Post by BrritSki
“A traditional Japanese tea ceremony. I thought you’d like that,
you seem fond of my culture with your garden and the things we
discussed yesterday.
“I’m flattered. But… no. It’s not what I like at all” he said slowly.
That seemed a little rude, after she's made the effort - though my
thinking so means I've really been pulled into the story.
[]
Post by BrritSki
couldn’t even see the headstone, what chance did he have of finding the
head stone perhaps? (Headstone made me think of cemeteries.)
Post by BrritSki
cup. He stood up and looked at his garden. It was completely natural
now. Just peat and stone outcrops.
He wiped the rain from his face and turned and looked at the stream.
The narrow cut had been filled by the landslip and now the torrent was
a wide, shallow rivulet. The stones he had been throwing about
haphazardly had landed in a pattern of stepping stones across it.
He looked at Marita who was standing on the middle stone. Her kimono
was covered in mud, her combs had gone and the pouring rain had washed
the white make up from her face.
“That’s better he said, walking towards her. “Much more natural”.
END
Now that last word is the worst part - you can't just END there!

To summarise: I really enjoyed the story: I was right there with the
characters at all times - the descriptions had the right amount of
detail (rather than too much as I thought after the first paragraph).
And the story pulled me in. I want to know how the story proceeds!
--
J. P. Gilliver. UMRA: 1960/<1985 MB++G()AL-IS-Ch++(p)***@T+H+Sh0!:`)DNAf

The main and the most glorious achievement of television is that it is killing
the art of conversation. If we think of the type of conversation television is
helping to kill, our gratitude must be undying. (George Mikes, "How to be
Inimitable" [1960].)
steveski
2017-10-04 21:52:20 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by J. P. Gilliver (John)
[]
Post by BrritSki
“That’s better he said, walking towards her. “Much more natural”.
END
Now that last word is the worst part - you can't just END there!
To summarise: I really enjoyed the story: I was right there with the
characters at all times - the descriptions had the right amount of
detail (rather than too much as I thought after the first paragraph).
And the story pulled me in. I want to know how the story proceeds!
Wot JPEG said but also I wasn't sure who was talking in some of the
dialogues.
But, yes, I really liked it and want to know more . . .
--
Steveski
BrritSki
2017-10-07 08:52:35 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by steveski
Post by J. P. Gilliver (John)
[]
Post by BrritSki
“That’s better he said, walking towards her. “Much more natural”.
END
Now that last word is the worst part - you can't just END there!
To summarise: I really enjoyed the story: I was right there with the
characters at all times - the descriptions had the right amount of
detail (rather than too much as I thought after the first paragraph).
And the story pulled me in. I want to know how the story proceeds!
Wot JPEG said but also I wasn't sure who was talking in some of the
dialogues.
But, yes, I really liked it and want to know more . . .
Thanks for the comments and for the private emails too (you know who you
are).

I thought the ending had its faults, but it certainly DID need to end
there. It doesn't need much imagination to figure it out, or did you
want a Mills and Boon style bonkfest in the rain and peat ? :)))
Mike
2017-10-07 10:31:18 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by BrritSki
Post by steveski
Post by J. P. Gilliver (John)
[]
Post by BrritSki
“That’s better he said, walking towards her. “Much more natural”.
END
Now that last word is the worst part - you can't just END there!
To summarise: I really enjoyed the story: I was right there with the
characters at all times - the descriptions had the right amount of
detail (rather than too much as I thought after the first paragraph).
And the story pulled me in. I want to know how the story proceeds!
Wot JPEG said but also I wasn't sure who was talking in some of the
dialogues.
But, yes, I really liked it and want to know more . . .
Thanks for the comments and for the private emails too (you know who you
are).
I thought the ending had its faults, but it certainly DID need to end
there. It doesn't need much imagination to figure it out, or did you
want a Mills and Boon style bonkfest in the rain and peat ? :)))
You need to ask???!!! THIS IS UMRA!
--
Toodle Pip
J. P. Gilliver (John)
2017-10-07 12:16:42 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
[]
Post by Mike
Post by BrritSki
I thought the ending had its faults, but it certainly DID need to end
there. It doesn't need much imagination to figure it out, or did you
want a Mills and Boon style bonkfest in the rain and peat ? :)))
You need to ask???!!! THIS IS UMRA!
(-: - actually, I hadn't come to that conclusion at all - and though I
enjoy bonk description as much as any (I don't know how it's covered in
Mills and Boon, not having read any), I'd be just as happy if the story
_didn't_ contain it: I don't know what I _do_ expect, but developing
friendship between the two characters possibly, with or without romance
(physical or otherwise). There seemed to be the start of a Good Read
there, then it ended somewhat abruptly.

It seemed a lot of scene-setting if that's all that was going to happen.

(_Do_ M&B cover bonking in detail these days?)
--
J. P. Gilliver. UMRA: 1960/<1985 MB++G()AL-IS-Ch++(p)***@T+H+Sh0!:`)DNAf

"I'm not against women. Not often enough, anyway." - Groucho Marx
J. P. Gilliver (John)
2017-10-04 17:42:44 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
[]
Post by BrritSki
intent on her goal. She turned her head and looked back and he felt the
power of her tarry eyes as she regarded him with curiosity.
I found "tarry" an unusual adjective. Not invalid, though.
[]
Post by BrritSki
“Come on, I think you’re fit enough t walk now, so we’d better
get you home.”
(to)
Post by BrritSki
The walked in silence back down the hill. It was dusk and they had to
(They)
[]
Another excellent chapter.
--
J. P. Gilliver. UMRA: 1960/<1985 MB++G()AL-IS-Ch++(p)***@T+H+Sh0!:`)DNAf

W-E-H-T-H-U-R: This is the worst spell of weather in months!
J. P. Gilliver (John)
2017-10-04 17:36:34 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
[snip]
Again, I really enjoyed this chapter.
--
J. P. Gilliver. UMRA: 1960/<1985 MB++G()AL-IS-Ch++(p)***@T+H+Sh0!:`)DNAf

W-E-H-T-H-U-R: This is the worst spell of weather in months!
J. P. Gilliver (John)
2017-10-04 17:33:11 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by BrritSki
The recent discussion with Sid about his writing made me think about my
own writing which I did regularly around 2001. Umrats have been very
kind about my "William the OAP" pastiche in the past, so here I offer
another piece I wrote back then.
In the spritit of Krait (ObTA), I'd be very interested to know what
people think, whether the idea has merit at all and what in particular
OK, will do. But it certainly has merit!
Post by BrritSki
needs improving. I have some ideas of my own reading it again after 16
years, but I'd like to know what umra thinks.
Stones
Geoff stroked his dragon. It lay asleep as always, draped over and into
the hillside, dreaming silently, drooling into the swollen stream. He
groomed it slowly and lovingly, working up the slope as usual from the
head to the tail. A shy smile spread across his face as he completed
his work.
At first, I thought "perhaps too many adjectives, or something like
that". But no, it's fine, once I'd got used to the style later. I don't
like "drooling", but given that it's significant later in the story, I
can't see how else.
[snip]
Excellent: I am there, on that hillside with Geoff.
--
J. P. Gilliver. UMRA: 1960/<1985 MB++G()AL-IS-Ch++(p)***@T+H+Sh0!:`)DNAf

W-E-H-T-H-U-R: This is the worst spell of weather in months!
Sid Nuncius
2017-10-04 17:56:02 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by BrritSki
The recent discussion with Sid about his writing made me think about my
own writing which I did regularly around 2001. Umrats have been very
kind about my "William the OAP" pastiche in the past, so here I offer
another piece I wrote back then.
In the spritit of Krait (ObTA), I'd be very interested to know what
people think, whether the idea has merit at all and what in particular
needs improving. I have some ideas of my own reading it again after 16
years, but I'd like to know what umra thinks.
I've copied this and saved it. I'll let you know, probably by private
email. May be a little while.
--
Sid (Make sure Matron is away when you reply)
BrritSki
2017-10-04 19:58:56 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by BrritSki
The recent discussion with Sid about his writing made me think about
my own writing which I did regularly around 2001. Umrats have been
very kind about my "William the OAP" pastiche in the past, so here I
offer another piece I wrote back then.
In the spritit of Krait (ObTA), I'd be very interested to know what
people think, whether the idea has merit at all and what in particular
needs improving. I have some ideas of my own reading it again after 16
years, but I'd like to know what umra thinks.
I've copied this and saved it.  I'll let you know, probably by private
email.  May be a little while.
Thanks MOPMOB
steveski
2017-10-04 21:54:57 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Sid Nuncius
Post by BrritSki
The recent discussion with Sid about his writing made me think about my
own writing which I did regularly around 2001. Umrats have been very
kind about my "William the OAP" pastiche in the past, so here I offer
another piece I wrote back then.
In the spritit of Krait (ObTA), I'd be very interested to know what
people think, whether the idea has merit at all and what in particular
needs improving. I have some ideas of my own reading it again after 16
years, but I'd like to know what umra thinks.
I've copied this and saved it. I'll let you know, probably by private
email. May be a little while.
Me too, but I think that the one thing I've remarked on is the only thing
that I feel qualified to say.
--
Steveski
Loading...