Here in Retford the rain this week has been pretty biblical with lots of flooding creating havoc locally. So this week, it seems appropriate to go with the prompt of
Use it any way you like – the obvious; flooded roads and fields, floods of tears, or the not so obvious; outpouring of words; flooded with relief… that sort of thing. I’m sure you can think up a few original and fun ways to use it! We look forward to reading your ideas.
Posted in Prompts
- Tagged Creative non-fiction, Creative writing, flood, flooding, poem, Poetry, prompt, retford writers group, short story, trigger, writing
Ladies and Gentlemen,
members of this awesome dissembly,
It is my privilege to
shriek to you today through the medium of space, without rinsing my worms; to
look back to our future; to explore how we may embrace a sea change in our shrinking,
free from excessive red tape, pies in the sky or other porkies and assorted
paper tigers; to discover, here and now, where we need to stand firm, but also,
to find those moments when we need to move on to better timing. And above all,
I urge you, with all my sinews, to hold up your palms, especially to this sea
of bubbles (and its associated cant and froth), and by opposing, see it off.
For, when all else fails, we need to stand above the crowd, cut through this
jungle and tangle: all those lies embedded in convention, to reach an avon of
peace and contention.
“It’s just a scratch” said my wife
Of course, when they say that in the movies, they have endured
a barrage of bullets from any number of generally incompetent antagonists and
at least one of them will have penetrated a useful limb. Having been thus injured, hero would reach
for his rolled up newspaper and put them off their already poor aim by using it
as a blowpipe to blast the nearest gunman with peanuts from a handy nearby
bowl. Having dispatched all his enemies
with deadly peanuts and newsprint jabs, he uses his newspaper to bind up the
flesh wound that has rendered his left arm useless, and coolly makes his way
out of the building and into the crowded streets.
This weekend the North Notts Lit Fest was in full swing in Retford and the Retford Writers Group reading was just one of many exciting events taking place in different venues around the town. Since our slot was fairly early on Saturday morning we weren’t expecting too much of an audience, so were pleased to see the newly created cafe filling with people as 10:00 a.m. approached.
Eleven members each read a piece of their work, and for this session we all chose something a little lighthearted, which we felt was more appropriate for a sunny Saturday morning!
Although there was a fairly modest number in the audience, they all seemed very appreciative, and we were delighted to hear afterwards how much they had enjoyed the session. Our thanks go to the organisers of NNLF for giving us the opportunity to share our work with local residents, and we very much hope that the rest of the weekend was as successful as our session!
North Notts Literary Festival
Exciting news folks! Retford Writers Group have their very own slot in this upcoming festival. Why don’t you come along and hear our talented poets and story tellers read some of their more light-hearted work on
Saturday, 14th September, 10:00 – 11:00 a.m.
at The NNLF Lounge, Chapelgate, Retford, DN22 6PJ
See the full programme at https://www.nnlf.org.uk/index.php/nnlf-festival-programme-20192
Also… watch out for our very own Kevin Murphy and Pete Brammer who are both hosting their own spots during the course of the Festival!
It felt incongruous sitting
there on the bandstand steps in the sunny park, half a dozen of their friends
messing about around them, oblivious. Drew was holding her hand the
big faux gold chain on his wrist digging into her arm, replicating the
pain. He was sucking on a roll-up and the smoke blew towards her making
‘For god’s sake Mel, stop
makin’ a fuss. I ain’t gonna stop spliffin’ just fer you, so yer can give that
up right now.’
Personal narratives are something we all construct, even if we choose not to share them. We invent them. Weave them. Like making up reasons for what we did after it’s already happened; as if there were some considered rationale or deliberate reasoning before it was done. Which there probably wasn’t. But we can be very persuasive after the fact. To ourselves, at least. Narratives are hooks. Necessary hooks on which to hang strings of causality, reason and meanings with no real meaning at all. Tissue-thin paper chains blowing about in the wildly unreasonable landscape of absurdity. Continue reading