I say, my head hurts awful bad…


I spent the whole day writing today. I had to really after stumbling across a short story competition the day before yesterday.

Ideally I would have liked to have spent a little while boozing and pondering an idea. Then I should of liked to spend a day or two bashing it out in draft before leaving it in a drawer to fester for a month or so.

That would have been ideal.

Yet life’s not fair like that is it? So, I spent all of today bashing out a random story, stressing and generally being rather unpleasant to be around. Got the damn thing finished and submitted though. Yeah biiiiatch!

So its in now and worrying about what I did or didn’t do won’t matter a damn. Sure I might re-read the submission I sent, probably several times. I may even find some glaring grammatical errors but so what? Practice is all it is at the end of the day.

I hold little hope for my effort but I’ll still watch the forum with interest to see who did do well.

I go now to mope and generally feel sorry for myself.

Bye for now.

M 😉

Author: Mark S Thompson

Okay, so these things are kind of hit and miss. If you’re reading this then I am thankful to you for taking the time out of your day to do so. I’ll be honest, when I think of myself as a writer, I kinda cringe. Don’t get me wrong, it is the dream, it's​ just I never really believe it will go anywhere. When I think back to the day that I first knew I loved writing, and I mean really knew, I see myself sitting in an English lesson at secondary school. The school was called Wrotham and is in the county of Kent, England. As far as I know, it's still there. English was far and away my favourite subject. The best bit was when the teacher gave the class a selection of words and asked us to make up a story that either contained those words or was about those words, you know. At other times we would be given the first sentence and then write what happens next. Good times. Many times my work would reflect what I had recently read and it would be okay. Nothing special, just okay. On one occasion though I wrote about a merman called Finchy and can remember going into so much depth and detail about him and the underwater kingdom he lived in. I really enjoyed writing that and it must have shown because my teacher commented on it. She was really impressed and loved the story. That was it for me, my moment. Now when I write I think back to those great times and to that story. Hopefully, I’ll write something that you, the reader, will be moved to comment on. For me, there is no greater elixir

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