Forum Comments

Maybe he used the Times as loo roll after all. We just don't know how the young rebel these days. That jet-lag flu; it comes from the air breathed on planes being constantly regurgitated thru the system. When we could still smoke on flights, they had to get new air in. So much for health and safety. Glad you're back in one piece.

Thanks very much for your comments, Julie and Pia.

I hope all's going well for the event. I'd be veey happy to help on the day for anything that needs doing but will be away from August 4th. All the best, Richard

From the title, I assumed this would have something to do with booze (5am reminds me of very dark times..) This is the sort of story that I become interested in knowing what age the writer is. Because there are a few grammatical errors, I thought that the writer might be quite young, but it could be that these 'errors' were put there for good purpose, because they worked anyway. If you are of a young age, then I'd say this is an excellent piece of work and that with hard work and lots of reading and perfecting a voice, you have a great future as a writer. Even if you are older, it's still a bloody good piece. The way you portrayed all the family members was spot-on, especially the sister. I may have missed it, but why did the bookshelf break? All the best Richard

A dark journey into an illness that many find bewilderingly nonsensical. This story does a good job of explaining the fears of the many that suffer. Enlightening.

'Half -crescent' would be better as 'half-crescent', is it 'threshed' or 'thrashed' or have you just come back from Threshers? The sentence, 'I curled up'.. is it in need of attention? damp-skinned, nose-nuzzled, perfume-soaked? I couldn't get to grips. I only have an hour at the library, unless I scoot to another borough, but I think you could give this more of a brush-up. If you've already put it in, I'm sure you can always re-sent it. Either way, I loved the story.

Nice writing. Long-distance calls for Marnie and your man. I'll make the enquiry to BT if you like. This story shows how powerful an emotion love (and the absence of it) is, and what great writing can be like when we breathe it all in. Gizza bit?!

How can I better a story without reading it? There's always something that's been missed or needs elaborating or taking out. That said, too much tampering can destroy work. I'd hate to have people looking at my bogies (off my finger) when they're not gooey and green enough, although I don't give much time to nosepicking any more. It just comes naturally these days and I sadly stopped analysing bogies years ago. ps. Never tell people what to do, it's like kicking your brother and expecting him to smile back. Oops, I just told you what to do. See the effect it has? That's why the French say 'on' (as in 'one'). It bypasses rudeness and allows a listener objectivity on a viewpoint or advice given. Harry Enfield's a good example;'You don't wanna do that! You wanna do this, like that, see!?'

Great stuff

Good read. I hope your case went well yesterday. When you feel up to it, let me know how you got on. All the best Richard

Haven't been to the cinema for ages but plotting to do so. There's a cheap Monday afternoon deal and Morrisons appear to have popcorn on offer opposite. As for the mug, that was sheer extravagance. Oxfam are doing 2 for a quid. I like the nonchalance of this. It's quite hard to take the mick out of a writer's ego running riot in the delusional world of grandiosity because we all do it!

Beautifully woven in a complex pattern of shockingly colourful knots that scream and smack at the gargantuan cost of abusive parenting. What a gem Megan is, and thank God for her imagination. I may have missed it, but was she Annie's sister or Bronwyn's? Small detail cos this blew me away. I can't believe it's taken till now for me to find your writing. Did you have to enter the competition though? Quite unfair. All the best, (he says grudgingly). Richard

Absolutely beautiful.

I'd say go for it. I self published my first novel when I was 27 and when i presented it to publishers they told me that they don't accept work that's not double-spaced on A4. Did 200 copies and enjoyed the challenge. Life's too short and we learn quicker when we challenge ourselves in earnest. Good luck

I was happily surprised when I got cherries for this because it was the first morning of a wave of depression that I get and my mind felt like mushy peas mixed in a bowl of shredded wheat. The pizza burnt, too. So thanks to the very lenient and understanding editors. Writing about the mess I used to get into always fills me with gratitude that I'm not there anymore. Thanks for commenting, Rob. All the best Richard

A cynic would say you have more hope with a tooth fairy than with earthly powers,but what do they know? This is an excellent bit of writing from where I'm sat. Short, sweet and to the analogical point, if the word exists. I think Insert's right. If you keep on writing down feelings as they come into your head (don't let them get away, because even the really good ones can go in a second), make them sing as you've managed to do here, post them, and listen to feedback, you may find that this is a helpful platform on which to fight for your child's wishes to be with you. It seems plain enough to me that he yearns to be free from the nanny state by reading this, although I am just a stranger with feelings. As with my own situation, I would not expect anyone to be so unwise as to make judgements unless armed with hard facts. If you would like to correspond with me privately in relation to our shared interests, please feel free to write an email by way of the site. I'd be happy to hear from you. All the best Richard

Thanks for all the comments. This really is a great site full of quality writers, so I'm bowled over. To tell the truth, for a while after posting I thought that this was a real duff story and even contemplated taking it off the site in shame. Dreams are difficult to remember. I had part of this dream (the match, the team mate, the house and the ceiling) but by the time I'd got up and made my tea and had a fag, the old imagination was called upon to join in. It was Sooz's story of the week (last week) that gave me the idea to write this, and I used Leon to convey the delicate nature of a mentally exhausted person in need of emotional help to let go of the past. I'm glad I had this weird dream to work on.

Sci-fi female leads are a risky business, but it's worth a try. Probably about 80% of sci-fi lovers are male (at least) so the market's quite limited. Ripley was a powerful character that worked well but I can't help thinking that she was just another two-in-one promo for the producers, ie. sell sex and sci-fi in one hit. It did open up the market for more female leads in general, but I honestly don't find women battling against aliens very credible.

Marnie's up to no good again! As Barry points out, you have a way of drawing us in to your world very casually, which is inviting. Did you mean putrified? Trees might have feelings but they don't scare easily. Cats, on the other hand.. Enjoy your hols. Richard

Maximus going through the big door and meeting his wife and child after slaying the awful emperor at the end of Gladiator. That's for the good uns. The bad uns (those that really did nothing of any importance in life) just get to be TVs or remote controls in the afterlife. I certainly believe in the afterlife and will write about my own experience of it soon.

Halfway through reading this, I got that thought which only comes once in a bluey. The thought was 'I bet this is from a publisher to gauge people's unbiased opinion' because a story this good just can't not be published. Like the Celtster says, story of the week by a planet. I just can't see anything getting past it, which at least stops me thinking that maybe, maybe, but I haven't put one in this week, apart from for the comp. I like the way you start with the now forgiven neglect shown by the Mum, middle it with Dad's and Auntie's rweassurance and then end it with the unforgettable eyes of a neglected pony. I also identify how these things that we experience at an early age almost define our lives and shape our emotions in a way that we only truly begin to understand when that child we were becomes more openly available to us as we reach a certain level of acceptance. it's only then that we begin to be ourselves. Rehearse this well and speak with passion at the eEden Project, because this story deserves to be heard. If you give your all, I anticipate a respectful lull of quiet and then a standing ovation, because this, and you, deserve it. All the best Richard

There are so many different layers and aspects to life. The constantly changing nuggets of wonder, the new thoughts and feelings that I thought were dead and buried, and the regeneration of youth at times least expected make me feel very lucky. It sounds like you're doing just fine. A divine poem.

A meaty addition, insert. You have conveyed the snooty nonchalance and grotesque insensitivity of your entourage in a way that endears the reader; very colonial. You're taking us closer towards some sort of redemptive explosion, I am hoping. Stuck in paradise with moneyed barbarians immunised by their own fortune, a source of compassionate empathy with the child seems to be strangling the narrator. Is the horror of the child's plight forcing the narrator to acknowledge her locked childhood trauma? A flashback-reference to what actually happened to the child (perhaps slotted in as a surreal dream connecting the narrator) during the uncomfortable afternoon/evening slumber, might drive home the nausea and loneliness she feels is suffocating her. You see, I'm so into it I want to write it. Keep 'em coming.

Thanks Dynamaso and Highhat! Scrolled swiftly after a sortie to the library, which is usually the way. I like the library alot. Gets me out and smiling.

What a great night. At ten to seven I thought the worst but then the little room filled perfectly with a lovely collection of people. That was the first time I've read so it was a big relief and a good learning experience. Tony compered brilliantly and it was a pleasure to meet him finally. There were many highlights for me but the subject of Peterborough has to top it. Not only did Gristo perform like a true pro, he gave us a whacky insight to Posh that had all laughing. Tony's teenage bus rides to Posh from the confines of school were a gas and reminded me of my own boarding school antics. Bee from Etherbooks has some good ideas for writers to make some money. Check their forum topic. Interesting. We collected £65 for Railway Children and paid off the venue that RJNewlyn stumped up. Thanks to all the brilliant writers and friends who came.

Thanks Rob. Shall reread and adjust soon.

Sounds very fishy, doesn't it fellas? Who would have thought that this brave, honest, decent man might be in the firing line? 'There's more to come' may be his famous last words and I hope that he's right. Imagine the kind of scumbags that work at news international, feeding off people's whereabouts as a job, and they're only the ones doing the bread and butter work. There must be loads of them. The real reason for all these sackings and arrests and deaths and reshuffles isn't because the NOTW was eager to report if Jordan was eating a Big Mac after a late night. The real reason is because the government are desperate to hide their own treacherous agenda. That's why they all cosied up to murdoch, till last week, when they joined hands for the first time since I can remember, to alienate and vilify him. Such a shame they have to be so cowardly, dishonest and indecent.

Hashish got its name from the Arabic word for assassin. Arabian hit squads used to give it to their boys just before they ran riot at a rival camp in the deserts. I reckon from past experience that it is addictive because the last time I gave up everything (thirteen years ago), it was the spliff that I wanted more than alcohol and gambling, and it was the spliff that took me back to it all. Now it's the shagging gambling that's proving hard to shake off, which was only accepted to be an addiction in 1986 (by that time I'd been an addict for 14 years!) I reckon the skunk is evil. It's on the market for good commercial reason (it's expensive, gets you there bigtime and can be grown in the UK, saving the hassle of smuggling). I also reckon it's the most mind-numbing, brain-deadening stuff on the planet, eradicating a person of his personality within seconds, taking him within himself. Unlike all other drugs on the planet, which transport the mind to go from A to B, cannabis triggers the mind to go from B to A. It's popular with teenagers because they generally hate the world presented to them and want to 'get out of it'.

Good to see you pushing (ripping down? treading over? spitting on?) those boundaries again, Rachel. Rules are for fools anyway, as those who change them every two seconds will tell you. Halfway down I wondered whether I was reading one of Maggy's pieces because this has a similar whip/bite/flex (best not say venom) and arrangement to it. I especially loved 'I line up my lies like figurines' (but I'm grimacing because I want it to be 'dolls') and 'I line up my truths like soldiers'. The lines that follow these two power-packed gems are perfect. How about 'Shiver my Timbres' for an alternative title? It's a very eerie, honest, visual piece, like you wrote it with juddering knees shrouded in a damp towel after a disappointingly lukewarm bath with the boys having just gone to sleep (after using the best of the hot). Definitely a ballsy read and very inspiring. I've got a title for a piece, 'A Quiet Riot', but I'm in dry drunk/depressed mode at the moment and can't get any sense out of the old grey matter. Reading this almost triggered a sense of being alive but no, I think it's gone already. Keep on truckin'! All the best Richard

I enjoyed this. I'm easily led by your writing in much the same way as when I read Maggyvaneijk. Definitely check her out. You seem to touch on the same whimsical tendencies of innocence. All the best Richard

Hi, Insert and Highhat. That confuses me now. I can't remember from my daze of web-betting whether the initial stake is taken at the point of betting or not. I'll read through it again and see if it needs saying anyway. Thanks for reading, ladies

Thanks for the compliment, Insert, Moonlight and Tina. This is high praise and something I could not have dreamt of. Thank you for your kind thought, Pia. Thanks Rachel, I have the same problem, especially when I'm posting comments from my phone, and it's a real drag losing info meant for someone. I tap away quickly nowadays and lose threads that I'd like to have gone into more for fear of it going 'access denied'. My suspicious side thinks that someone somewhere is having a horrible laugh but it's probably just a glitch. I told Tony and he thought it weird too, but if others find it to be problem, it's best to let him know. Your words really nearly set me off on an emotional spell (feelings are new to me) because this is so bloody personal, but I don't think I'm being brave posting this. It's just life as it stands at the moment, a passage of time that I need to go through, and usually these things go on to strengthen us, if we let them. The thing is, I wasn't an archangel when I was with my ex and stubbornly refused to grow up in many ways. Her stance has forced me to look at myself properly, stop drinking and smoking dope, and to understand the fralities of others too. To be honest, I've always wanted to do poetry but it was shit before and then I read yours and others poems on Abc and I suddenly started to see that there were never any rules and that it wasn't all about rhyme and raisins and jolly hockeysticks. No clique needed joining and it felt right giving it a whirl. If it wasn't for people like all of the above and many many more I wouldn't have even tried, but it's such a good way of knocking down emotional barriers and I can see that now. It was me who was blind to it before, purely because I was a proser and saw poetry as a competitor. Thank God for Abc, though! It's a little university of life. All the best Richard

Thanks for reading, Julie I like to do breathing exercises but I tend to yawn a lot. Keep smiling Richard

The Maidment has arrived! I've been looking out for you to post a story and wasn't disappointed by this beauty. Abctales is the perfect site to test the water on work and as you can see already plenty of good people on board. I'll read the next two chapters when I'm less busy, but great to see you've joined. Richard.

I think that the biggest threat to humans is mental illness. The world's become so closed and pc that it's fragmenting people from any possibility of self knowledge. because of the competitive nature of western culture, there is little room for mirroring among peer groups. Information's all but it divides and gets distorted. The answers to our problems are so much closer to home but govts choose to exploit our vulnerabilities. For instance, I've suffered depression since my parents divorced when I was sixteen. I refused to acknowledge it and shunned help, choosing to block out reality with drink, drugs, gambling, women, travel, and anything else that took me away from myself. Up till recently, I waded through jobs, countries, etc, and was not a burden on the public purse. In fact, being in the dark and generally killing myself softly, I was very good for the economy because I spent money earnt quite frivolously and lived for the day, which was expensive. Always financially vulnerable, I was easy pickings for big business to exploit. Most of the things I spent money on were taxed to the hilt, and then the endless task of finding enough money to live on and paying for four children got the better of me, and I became homeless. Now that I don't drink or drug, I'm awful for the economy. I don't splash money in crappy pubs and I don't get charges from the bank for mistaking the amount of pennies I have in there for direct debits and interest. Because I'm signed off work, I'm starting to see where I went wrong. Before, I had no time to think, let alone stop to think. It was work spend work spend, constantly chasing my tail. The whole western capitalism thing is a spent force because the ultra rich have amassed all the money(why is every country in debt and who to?). There's just no more disposable income for the masses any more because big business has closed up all the holes and tightened their hold through 'competition'. With 90% of people incapable of spending any more, the whole system will fall flat on its face. Stupid needless products that no one really wants will be piled high in warehouses and the manufacturers will go bust. There are more people selling at car boots now than those buying. The main thing is, (I hope) people will start to see that all these things they were striving for are useless if their heads are full of crap and they can't relax for two seconds to enjoy them, and that will be the end of capitalism. How can one capitalise when there is no market to exploit? The problem lies in how the ultra rich cope with the fact that they have no one left to flick around in their grandiose master-plan. How to get the debts of world ecoonomies wiped is another irksome problem, but perhaps they will be happy to start again if they are given a more than healthy headstart on the rest of us, which seems fair enough to me. The game's up and we need to help eachother to stay sane and start enjoying life. I don't want to be out of work for long, claiming ESA and being in supported housing, but if this little period of time rights me back to myself for the first time in my adult life, I will be infinitely more useful to others in the future, which is a big driving force because I know realise I always wanted to be useful but couldn't even help myself. If the bloke that killed all the students in Norway wasn't so mentally unstable and he saw a smidging of love in the world, surely he would never have engaged in the ludicrous idea that he was a far right warrior. He was ill and he needed help and he didn't get it, so he found people who he thought were happier than he was and he killed them to take away his own pain. I'm not saying that I was a potential mass murderer because my own ailment was never diagnosed until thirty years after it started, but everyone has their limit and this guy is way out there as far as self-will is concerned. The problem is that there are many disillusioned young people today. They have no jobs to look forward to (?) and see no hope of living a decent life. What will there be to lose for the dispossessed when there are so many, and what will be the true cost to the world if nothing is done to help them? That's the issue, that govts have forgotten their true values and made the welfare state a sort of bargaining tool for the appeasement of the dispossessed. How long can it last? Another generation? I don't think so.

Thanks, Christine. Scratch, Your comment is a beautiful poem. You explain how I feel at the moment very well. Easy like Sunday morning? Not. Both my Mum and Dad have dementia and are slipping away slowly. I can feel the cold wind on my cheeks and hear the hard, metallic clicking of the pulley as the rollercoaster reaches the summit but I think I might be ready for the ride. All the best Richard ps. you're a real find for this site.

Never too late to change your mind, about the painting , I mean.

I like the ending; 'as long as you don't mind me writing about it'. He might get the picture if he reads, but can he see? Keep truckin', Insert. This life's for living, not waiting.

Hi Rob, Just asked a mate if he knew who Ezekiel was and he thought it fell at the first at Sandown last night. Probably isn't a horse though, is it? I'll look him up. Ta for reading Richard

Great writing. This is something special. Send in about thirty pages (or to a point that seems right to cut at) to publishers and agents that you like the sound of. Go on, I dare you!

War is bad, soldiers are good, war journalists are crazy.

Thanks for the encouragement and to everyone that came along. What an amazing collection of people. The amount of money collected from the night for Railway Children was boosted by a mystery man who paid for the room-rental without me knowing, so £121 will be sent to Railway Children. This mystery man has told the pub manager that he will be paying for the room for the forthcoming Abctales evenings, so literally every penny we get goes to Railway Children. All the best Richard

Hmmm, surprisingly quiet forum topic. Oh well, here's mine; 'Go Lead Your Horse to Water' by penandpaperdreams as POTY. There are many stories that I've loved but if I had to make a call it would be from a lottery pot of Sunday's Child, Netty Allen, Insertponceyfrenchname, Celticman, Well Wisher, Frankle and Maggyvaneijk for SOTY, all admired for their consistency and style.