Here Be Dragons.

I'm starting a new collection, a no-hold's barred look at life. My intention is not to shock, rather to hold up a mirror to the collective consciousness and ask the question all writers have to answer at some time in their life, 'do we really show life as it is, or are we skirting the issues, putting on those rose-tinted glasses and spinning tales that people want to read?'

I'm still new to this site but I have seen that most writers are sincere in their approach to writing. This doesn't mean that there is no value in writing entertaining stories; I have tried writing for various magazines that set their own standards for publication. It's a gritty road out there and sometimes you have to rearrange your approach if you want to reach that goal of getting your work published.

Of course there is nothing wrong with this, I write inspirational poetry and stories and try to judge what will appeal to the reader, but there are times when I want to write solely for myself. That feeling of putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, is deeply satisfying most of the time, but there are occasions when you feel outraged at something, war/famine/greed/poverty/ man's inhumanity to others. This is when the writer has to search their conscious and decide if they want to express themselves in writing.

This isn't an easy task and sometimes the author has to use words of profanity that may not come naturally to them, I say, 'speak in the language which best expresses the point you are trying to make.' I'm no expert on writing, I've had a few poems published but I wonder will I ever get anything published that actually pays me money.

Writing is an art and all artists' dig deep into their own experiences to display a piece of work. My experiences of life come from a fairly humble background, but that doesn't stop me aspiring to greater heights. Neither does it stop me from looking at the low points and saying, 'yes, I DO have something to say and it may not always be pleasant.'

I have to be true to myself and if that means sometimes writing an unpalatable truth then so be it. I write in order to express something and as I write I often find my characters are doing things I never expected them to do. This seems to be a truth that many writers' find out for themselves, 'I write in order to have ideas'. Where those ideas will take me I am constantly discovering for myself.

The stories/poems from this collection will almost certainly be rated as 18 as I look at life and the experiences that I have had myself or heard about from others. I'm an ex civil servant and I've seen and heard many things that still make me cringe to this day, to turn my back on those seventeen years of experience is to deny part of who I am today. I may not always find the right words to express this part of my life, but I'm going to try.

I love those maps you often find in science fiction stories and fantasy, on the outskirts you often find, "uncharted worlds and in the words of more than one author, "here be dragons.
I hope you can live with my dragons.

© Lisa Fuller. February 2006.

Cherry

What If .........

Knitting Needles handn't been invented? If only I had gone to school that day what might have happened? Maybe my mother would have died and my life would be very different, maybe she still would have survived and I would never have known about all the lost babies. From that one single day my head was full of "what ifs. I managed for many years to push it to the back of mind, but just closing my eyes I can transport myself back in time.
Cherry

Always around the corner.

Rather a long story. Approx 4000 words.

Cause and Effect.

'Oh shit,' he was going to be late for work again. Grabbing his briefcase and the keys he sprinted down the stairs, only to find himself looking up at the dingey cream ceiling. 'Blast it,' the black cat shot out from under his feet retreating to the safety of the basement flat. There was no time to go back and change his suit, brushing dust from his jacket he let himself out of the block of flats and got into his old Corsair. The chill January air must have made the engine sluggish, taking a bit of choke to turn it over. Which was probably why he neglected to look both ways and collided with the silver Volvo that seemed to be going a little fast for the residential area.
Cherry

Death's Uneasy Alliance.(or pull up a Pew)

Death didn't look up to much today; in fact he looked positively wilted. His black suit needed pressing, the crisp white shirt in need of some starch and his tie was drooping at half-mast. 'Care for a snifter, matey?' I asked casually, knowing his temper was unreliable at best and earth shaking at it's its worst.

Leaving ...Behind. (Edited).

‘I did used to love you in the beginning, ‘ she says in a conversational sort of way, like the way she once used to talk to him about things that meant little to them both.

Portrait in a darkened Mirror.

Her stillness was the first thing I noticed, though later I would remember details that eluded me at the time.
Cherry

Inside Out (A new beginning).

The door opened to my hesitant knock and I made my way inside, brushing a pile of papers aside as I made my way to the proffered seat.

The Ides of March

The stile wasn’t that high, but I still offered the girls a leg-up, after all it was the least I could do after last night’s party. Trevor was moaning as usual. Tough luck.

The Tenth Revolution.

No Teasers - just work it out for yourselves.

Purnell's Fields.

I was lying on my back, on soft grass that held all the warmth of a summer’s day.
Cherry

Night on the Surgical Ward.

I was unlucky enough to be quite seriously ill in the New Year. It wasn't my first time in hospital, but it left an impression on me. I hope to banish it here.