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Friday, 28 March 2025

Flash publication


 Just wanted to let you know that my short fiction The In and Out Job has been published today by Underbelly Press. My story is on page 25 of Issue 3. Do have a read and enjoy the other stories and poems contained inside.

I have enjoyed working with Underbelly Press. They are a friendly team and I wish them continued success with their coming issues.

Tomorrow I am meeting with the London Writers Support Group and the following Saturday I am with my regular writing group doing a spot of writing to a prompt.

I recently had a blitz on writing. Over a few days I wrote a number of flash stories and a longer story. The ideas came thick and fast and I was pleased with what I'd written. They need a bit of polishing, but several are humorous and others are more serious. Eventually, I'd like to publish them all together, but maybe send some of them out on submission first. In the meantime, I will be adding to them. My words  seem to have dried up for the moment! Instead, I am avidly reading books from my TBR pile.

All for now.

Tuesday, 4 March 2025

Feeling energised

Found a friend in Norwich!

 Just a quick post this time. The weather is finally sunny and warm (during the day at least), and I have been able to get into the garden and dig the two big beds over. The robin hovered while I was digging, eying up the tasty worms, and while I have placed old compost bags over one bed (to stop weeds and keep the soil warm before I plant), I gave the robin free access overnight to this one and a total freedom over the other.

The good weather has changed something in me. I feel energised, happy and fully alive for the first time this year. I've been busy, but taking time to sit with Rue (the dog) on the bench in the garden to read. He loves the sun and can't wait to get out there to hog the bench. Last year gardening was quite stressful as Rue would steal canes, gardening loves, flowerpots and raid the green waste for anything to chew. This year he has settled down (he will be three in August), and while I still keep watch, I often find him sunning himself on the bench, totally ignoring me. I just want this weather to last now.

Rue

In writing, after having had a piece of flash fiction shortlisted, but not picked, I immediately sent it out again. Success! My piece has been chosen and should be published by the end of the month. I am really excited and proud of this piece and cannot wait to share this one with you.

Meanwhile, I am gradually creating a website. I won't tell you about the stress getting things started has caused. Taking some advice, which just messed with my head, and having to backtrack. It's a slow work in progress. I thought it would be easier after having creating my blog. I'm not a techie person, but anyway I shall see how it goes.

Last week I made a quick trip to Norwich to visit a friend. We had a lovely time, but on the second day, we almost got drowned in a deluge. I was squeezing water out of my sleeve. But we found a nice cafe to sit and dry out in. We got out our notebooks and wrote. We did timed themed prompts between one minute to eight minutes. One piece I wrote felt like the beginning of something and I have worked on it since being home and now it is a fully formed short story. I've not written one of those in a while. Usually it's flash or poetry. It was good to work together again. We always have lots of laughs and make the most of our time together.

Writing away

There is going to be some exciting news coming soon, but I do not want to jinx things, so I am staying quiet for now. |

Enjoy the sunshine and I will see you again soon.

Friday, 7 February 2025

A Year of Celebration

My son's girlfriend gave me a new bookmark and these cuties which are no in my writing room.

 I'm a bit late posting, but January whizzed by and this month is going the same way. There was also the little matter of being distracted by another jigsaw puzzle which was great fun doing and I spent hours at a time on it. I have steeled myself not to buy another one for a while because they are all consuming and I really must be spending more time on my writing.

There is also another distraction. I have dedicated this year to a year of celebration because I am going to be 70 years old in the summer. Not being a party girl, I have been arranging little trips and doing a few things from my bucket list. Becoming 70 seems a huge deal to being 69! I try not to think of it as my last phase, that most of my life is behind me because I tend to be optimistic and really I have come into my own in my later years. 

I have a good friend who will be 70 fifteen days before me and for the last decade we have been doing something together as opposed to buying each other gifts. Things like the Hampton Court Flower Show, tea on a London tour bus and seeing ABBA Voyage together. This year we are going to Stratford-upon-Avon in July. We've booked an apartment for three nights and will do the whole Shakespeare experience. I can't wait.

My diary is now the busiest it's ever been for the next few months, and I still have to see other friends and do other things. Will I have time to write? Oh yes! In fact, since I joined a writing group, things have stepped up a gear. I'm part of the prose group and the new writing prompt group met properly for the first time last week in a branch of Waterstones (they have a cafe). There were two picture prompts and some headlines, or we could choose our own subject. There was no time limit, and we just read when we were ready.

You can always tell when things are going well when your audience reacts, and they did to my little comic flash. I heard the intakes of breath and chuckles, which fired me up. At the end, every one clapped and had lots of questions. This should be a monthly meeting. It was great with an interesting and friendly group of people. What I have gathered is that people like my comedy and someone asked me to write more. Things like this boost ones confidence and you feel that you are not wasting your time.

I heard about the open mic night through the writing group's Facebook page and decided to go along, mainly to listen. They did not organise it, but a couple of the group's ladies said they would come. It was held in the same place where the prose group meets, so I knew it. When I arrived last night I was asked if I wanted to read. I hesitated. Did I? I had brought along a selection of poems just in case I had the courage to stand and read. She said, 'they are a friendly lot', so I said yes, and the lady put my name down.

The first half would be for open mic reads, and the second half a guest poet, Rishi Destidar, who also writes a column in The Guardian, would read from his books. Sitting waiting for my turn wasn't good for my blood pressure, but I tried to concentrate on other readers. A good selection of poems were read, some serious and some humorous ones. Towards the end of the first half my turn came. I chose to read a poem written only last week entitled The Poetry Market, a sort of comic take on writing poetry. It went down really well and two ladies asked me if I was a teacher because I knew all the terms for poetry.

There was a real buzz around the place, and the group was diverse. The lady I sat next to had only been writing poetry for a short time and was in her 80's. There is hope for me yet! During the interval, I chatted to people including one of the ladies from the writing group who had also read. I bought a small Chapbook from the stall and suddenly it was time for the second half.

The Chapbook I bought last night

The guest poet read from various books of poetry. I was particularly drawn to his book of poetry on climate change, which he had written from the viewpoint of a god who despaired of us, but who he was still fond of. His poems were mostly comic with the odd more serious. It was a great end to a lovely evening. It is a pity that the open mic doesn't happen more often, but there next meeting will be in the summer. This was a great experience and lovely to meet and be with so many poets at every level.

Rishi Destidar reading

I have started submitting again, and while I have had some rejections, I am still waiting on a few things that I will hear about this month. The time felt right now to re-join The Poetry Society. They run  a members only poetry competition which is free to enter, so I have entered that.

I signed up for a set of six webinars with Writers Online (from Writing Magazine) on Self-Publishing. Next week is the last one. They have been so interesting and I have been filling my dedicated notebook to workshops. The webinars have covered whether self-publishing is for you, how to format your manuscript, marketing, website building, newsletters, how to get your work out there using Amazon, and wider distribution. Also covered was producing audio books, large print and special editions. Some of this I am really not ready for, and they do cost a lost, and until I actually make a profit is not worth considering, but who knows for the future. I have to say that had I not ventured down this route in the past, I would have been completely overwhelmed with all the information. As I know a little about the procedure, it hasn't been quite so daunting. I've learned a hell of a lot, but the thing we are told is that we do everything gradually, one step at a time. Don't try to do everything, and never what you are not comfortable with. The last webinar is about tax and the business side of things.

Taking part in the webinars will, I hope, help me when I come to produce my next book. I want to do it differently this time and with these tools hopefully I will be able to.

Well, that's it for now, which is probably enough. Keep the faith, keep writing and reading. See you next time. Please comment about anything or ask questions. I'm really friendly!


Thursday, 2 January 2025

Review of 2024

 

The completed jigsaw puzzle

Good morning. I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas and New Year. I'm back to typing this on my lap downstairs, as at present I have a jigsaw puzzle on my writing desk. It has been completed, but I cannot bear to pull it apart just yet. It will have a new home as I am passing it on to my youngest son and his wife. They love jigsaw puzzles and are masters at them!

Well, I keep threatening to have a new website or to switch to Substack, yet here I am still blogging on Blogger. I understand how it works and there is comfort in something you know. For now, I'm still here.

I'm starting with my submissions for 2024:

Flash - 9 sent and one published

Short stories - 6 sent and one published

Poems - 31 sent (some in blocks of 3 or 4), three published and one shortlisted. One was a prize winner, yet wasn't published! I won't be submitting there again.

Novellas - Around 7 submissions, all the same novella, my Christmas one. No takers, but one still pending.

Pending - 14 pieces of writing still pending. Some seem stuck, never heard back (do I class these as rejections?) and some more recent submissions that I don't hear about until around February.

Misc - I wasn't sure where to stick this one. I submitted Page 100 of a novella to a competition which gave feedback. I didn't get picked, but I received some very good feedback, in that it pointed out what didn't work! This will come in handy when I go back to edit the whole novella. 

I didn't submit as much this year as I've been working on longer projects, but I was surprised by how many poems I submitted.

Writerly things I took part in during 2024:

  • Writing course with Indie Novella
  • Writing and Walking week in the Cotswolds
  • Various online Zoom/Webinar workshops/talks in writing, self-publishing and using Substack
  • Outspoken event at Purcell Room, Southbank, London (poetry and music)
  • Poetry Unbound - evening with poet Padraig O'Tuama at Southwark Cathedral
  • The Alternative Book Fair, Islington, London
  • Author/book event
  • Read a poem at Cafe Writers open mic night, Norwich
  • Worked with an editor (Developmental Edit) on a novella-in-flash
  • Joined Sutton Writers
  • Still continuing to meet with London Writers' Support Group

The top 5 books I read in 2024:

Fiction

The Naming of Moths by Tracy Fells (flash and short story collection)

Three Gifts by Mark Radcliffe (main character is told by someone that he can trade some of his living years in exchange for his life and the health of his family. Clever story)

Haven by Emma Donoghue (Monks who founded Shellig Michael and how it affected each one. Riveting stuff)

The Lamplighters by Emma Stonex (Three families of lighthouse keepers and the story is told from different points of view. A keeper goes missing, but how? Will the truth ever be known? Brilliant)

Night Side of the River by Jeanette Winterson (Collection of ghostly short stories. Hauntings and new ideas of being haunted by AI. Great stuff. Couldn't put it down)

Non-fiction:

Rose West - The Making of a Monster by Jane Carter Woodrow (Harrowing, but delved deep into backgrounds. Very investigative)

In My Mother's Footsteps - A Palestinian Refugee Returns Home - Mona Hajjar Halaby (Eye opening, heartbreaking and written before the current conflict, Goes back to the times of the first expulsions)

Abroad in Japan by Chris Broad (Author goes to work in Japan as a teacher of English. This is about his time working there, his travels around the country and people he met. He is famous for his YouTube Videos of living in Japan. Funny and I learned a lot from this book)

Only When I Laugh by Paul Merton (He grew up not that far from me and I know the places he talks about, especially Bishop's Palace Gardens in Putney. A very shy boy who grew into a comedian and who I love watching on Have I Got News for You. We also something else in common - old black & white silent comedy films before the 'talkies'. I was a huge Buster Keaton fan.

I wanted to fit this one on the list, so as an extra I nominate Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear by Masab Abu Toha. This is by a Palestinian poet who was born in a refugee camp and writes poetry about his experiences, like seeing his friend killed, and living with fear and carnage around him. He speaks of just wanting to live in his own country free from persecution and with all the everyday things others take for granted, like regular water and electricity supplies. Again, this was book was written before the present conflict.

For three years I have bought various Planners for my writing, but none of them have really worked. Many have things in them I would never use, and I already have a system for recording my submissions (a book and index cards). This year I am doing something different and have bought a project book with tabs I can write on for various things like deadlines for submissions and to record the progress of my novellas through various stages of development. Hopefully, this one won't get abandoned half way through the year like some of the planners! I tried hard to think about what I really needed and what I didn't want. Besides, Planners are so expensive, especially when you don't use most of it.

As for goals for this year, the only two I want to see come to fruition is for my Christmas novella to be published, and to finally publish my flash story collection. I shall continue to submit to small press magazines and the odd competition.

Do please feel free to comment on anything I've said. Maybe you have a top book list, a way to record your writing progress, or something else you would like to share. 

Happy New Year, and happy writing and reading.



Sunday, 22 December 2024

Christmas is coming



 This will be my last post until the New Year. It has certainly been a busy time and a good year ending writing-wise. Cranked Anvil published my flash fiction called Little Fawn in their 123 Micro fiction section online. You can read it here. I also had a poem shortlisted by Ink Sweat & Tears for their Christmas slot. They said they ran out of room for it, but encouraged me to submit to them again next year. 

Although I was unable to attend Sutton Writers Christmas party (I had a previous engagement), I did attend their prose night a few days beforehand. I read a new flash fiction which went down well. People laughed in the right places and were very complimentary about the humour and dialogue, so I was chuffed. There were some good stories to listen to and I find it encourages me to write more, which is no bad thing.

To end this year, I'd like to share with you a seasonal short story I wrote only yesterday, and edited frantically last night and again this morning! This is my thank you for reading my blog and following me on my writing journey. I hope you will travel with me again next year.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE



A turkey story

That year, dad brought home the largest turkey we’d ever seen. Mum was in a panic.

‘It won’t go in the fridge,’ she cried. ‘Whatever possessed you?’

‘We could put in the greenhouse until we need to stuff it,’ granny suggested.

My sister Molly moved closer to the turkey and reached out a finger.

‘Don’t touch it,’ mum said, pushing her hand away.

I thought the whole thing was funny, especially when mum threw her hands in the air and glared at dad with a, ‘Will it even go in the oven?’

Dad shrugged. I guess we’d have to wait and see.

*

‘Where’s your sister?’ mum asked me. It was a dull morning, and I was sitting by the fire reading. I’d not seen Molly for a while. ‘Go find her; it’s time for lunch.’

‘Do I have to?’

Mum gave me one of her looks. I put down my book and went to look for her, but she was nowhere in the house. Finally, I looked out of the kitchen window, and there she was in the greenhouse, staring at the turkey. I went outside.

‘What you doing, Mol?’

‘It’s got feathers.’

‘There’s always some left. It’s normal.’

‘No, I mean, there are more feathers now than yesterday.’

I moved towards the turkey, sitting on the largest platter mum could find. It looked just the same to me. ‘Mum says it’s lunchtime.’

‘I’ll have mine here. I don’t want to leave the turkey here on its own.’

‘Mol, it’s dead. It doesn’t know you are here.’ I grabbed her arm, and she pulled away. I stomped off back to the kitchen and told mum.

‘I’ll get her,’ granny said, taking Molly’s anorak. ‘She’ll catch her death out there.’

‘She’ll be like the turkey, then,’ I said, sitting at the table.

A reluctant Molly came in and drank her soup so fast she must have burnt her mouth. She stuffed crusts into her mouth, the crusts mum had cut off the bread before making breadcrumbs for the stuffing. As soon as Molly finished, she asked to leave the table, and soon she was slipping on her anorak to go and sit with the turkey again. I asked if I could have her tinned peaches, but mum said she’d save them for her.

Because I had nothing much else to do, I wandered out to the greenhouse to annoy Molly. Molly was two years younger than me. I would be going to big school after the summer holidays next year. ‘You will be a little man,’ granny said. I didn’t really want to be a man yet. I enjoyed playing with my friends. I didn’t want a job like dad. Homework was bad enough.

Molly was sitting on the cold concrete floor. Mum would say she’d get piles, but that’s her look out, but I did wonder if I should lend her my scarf. I slid the door shut behind me against the cold wind and shivered.

‘It’s got even more feathers now,’ Molly said.

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘And it’s throbbing, like it has a heartbeat.’

My sister had always been weird. I mean, girls are, aren’t they? But sometimes it’s like she’s from another planet.

‘I brought you a mince pie.’ I pushed my hand in front of her nose. Molly ignored it.

‘See,’ Molly said. ‘You can see it.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Molly, it’s got no neck or feet. Its innards have been dismantled and stuffed into a plastic bag inside it. It’s dead like that parrot in Monty Python. It is no more.’

Molly turned to me. There were tears in her eyes. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘I understand that it will be a tasty Christmas dinner and I’ll fight you for the wishbone.’

‘You’re horrible, you are, Timothy, horrible. Just leave me alone.’ Molly turned back to stare at the turkey again.

‘Do you want the mince pie, then?’

Mollie’s sigh meant no. Well, that’s how I took it, so I turned around and left her there and went back into the warm to eat the mince pie.

*

You know, I think Mollie would have stayed out there with the stupid turkey all night had dad not dragged her away. She was insisting the turkey had flexed its wings. Mum was worried, putting a hand to Mollie’s head.

‘I really don’t need Mollie sick on Christmas day,’ mum said to dad, ‘not with Bob and his family coming. She really can’t go out there again tomorrow. Anyway, I need to get that turkey ready for the oven.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘Stuffing time.’

Mollie began crying. Mum picked her up and hugged her. ‘Come on, petal, time for bed. You need your sleep. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. I thought we might go carol singing with the church group. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You love Christmas.’

All I could hear was Mollie sobbing as she went to bed.

‘The child is oversensitive,’ granny said.

‘She’s bonkers,’ I said.

‘A little harsh,’ said dad. ‘You know how she gets over things once she gets an idea in her head.’

Yeah, bonkers, I thought.

*

I was woken by a commotion downstairs. Flinging on my dressing gown and slippers, I went to see what it was all about.

‘She must be running a fever,’ granny said.

‘She’s been out in the greenhouse since it got light, no wonder.’ That was mum, her hands flat on the table as if it was steadying her.

‘It’s true,’ Molly said furiously. ‘It’s alive, and it’s walking about the greenhouse.’

‘Fetch the doctor,’ granny said.

‘He’ll not come out on Christmas Eve. We’ll have to take her to the hospital.’

‘Can I come?’ I said. They all turned to me.

‘Timothy,’ mum said. ‘Get dressed and go and fetch your father.’

‘Why will no one believe me!’ Molly looked at me with pleading eyes. ‘Go and look. Please.’

‘Oh for goodness sake,’ I said, and marched out of the lounge, through the kitchen and out into the garden. Gosh! It was cold. I pulled my dressing gown tighter around me and headed for the greenhouse. I slipped open the door and was greeted by a gobble, gobble sound. The shock made me back away, and the next moment, the turkey, fully feathered and with a long neck, pushed its way out of the door and was running around the frosty garden. I looked back into the greenhouse. The platter the turkey had been sitting on was empty and there were black feathers scattered around. Then I spotted the open plastic bag where the giblets should have been. A blood trail ran from it across the floor. There was a ring of hay next to it. I blinked, unable to believe what I was seeing. Had someone switched turkeys as a joke? Had Uncle Bob done it? It sounded like the sort of thing he’d do, but he later denied it.

‘I told you!’ Molly was standing there with her arms crossed.

‘But….’

‘I don’t know how, but it wanted to live. I wrapped a blanket around it last night.’

‘Last night?’

‘I came down for its resurrection. Like Jesus. I even brought in some of Thumper’s hay for its re-birth.’

Now mum and granny were standing in the garden. Mum looked terrified. Granny shrugged. ‘Well, this is a fine how d’ya do.’

The turkey was foraging in the flower beds for any seed dropped from the bird feeder, looking very pleased with itself.

‘What am I going to do with all the stuffing I’ve made?’ mum wanted to know.

No one was prepared to offer a suggestion, but we didn’t eat turkey that year, and Mollie never ate it again. As for the turkey, Mollie named it Holly, and it lived with us until it died, naturally, ten years later. I found out that turkeys are only about twelve weeks old when they are slaughtered ready for Christmas dinner, so Holly had a good, long life. Of course, no one believed the story of the resurrected turkey, and whether you do, well, that’s up to you. But I grew to love Holly and found she made a good pet, even if she did decimate dad’s flower bed when she got out of the run he built.

©Heather Walker 2024

Photo by Ionela Mat on Unsplash


Thursday, 5 December 2024

The agony of the developmental edit

My writing room in full Christmas mode

 There comes a time in every writer's life when you feel your manuscript needs to be read by an editor. Sending to beta readers will help, but unless they have the experience, they won't pick up things an editor would. But then there's the expense. I have to admit that unless I'm going to make money on my books, I can't keep paying out for editors. And for those on a low income, these professional services are a dream they cannot afford. I've even heard some writers dismiss editors because they clearly don't understand the work. I do think most editors want the best for your work, and to be fair, these editors people were slating worked for publishers. Now I do think they can take over to the extent that I've heard people say that the book no longer feels theirs.

The first critique I had on a manuscript last year (not a developmental edit) was a shock to the system, but the lady was so nice and we spoke for an hour as she guided me through how I could go about the edits. I believe she was right with her advice and my novella improved because of her.

This time I thought I'd go through Reedsy, a writing website in the USA, for my novella-in-flash. They offer a list of editors with the type of edits they offer and the genres they work with. Of course there are a lot of US editors, but I wanted a UK editor. I chose two to approach, but went with one whose timescale was better for me. What I had stupidly not realised is that Reedsy takes a cut before paying the editor. This is around £45. The guy I worked with was actually American, but living in the UK. My main concern was that my novella was only about 15,000 words, whereas a novel would be around 80,000 and I did query the fee. The other editor had quoted the same fee, so I was beginning to wonder if this was a set fee. I had paid a bit less than this for the critique (but it wasn't a full developmental edit that time).

So the expense is something you have to prepare yourself for, if you go down this route. The second thing you have to prepare yourself for is the actual report. Boy, it can be brutal! All I can tell you is how I react. Everyone is different, but I'm betting not that different. I couldn't read the whole of the editorial edits, because my feelings were getting in the way. The words were not going in anymore. I glimpsed at the developmental edits and gave up. I walked away from it all and had a sleepless night thinking I was a hopeless writer, and there was nothing in it my editor liked. I have to say, it felt he made more negative remarks and only a few positive ones. That could have been my view because I was so upset. My immediate reaction was to ditch the whole project. I couldn't reply to him because I was both angry and upset and I know I cannot respond to people when I feel like this. So I left things a couple of days. I returned to his editorial, printed it off and highlighted the things most important, and I made my own notes. This is something I did for the critique I had last year. It helped to focus my thoughts. I then left it some more before typing a reply to the editor. Everything goes through Reedsy, so I typed my reply in a Word document and left it another day to sit. Then I made amendments before pasting it into the reply box of Reedsy. I had calmed down a lot by then and saw the manuscript in a different light.

Most of what my editor said was right, and on reflection, I may have submitted this one too early, but I know I needed help. The timeline was confusing for the reader, and I needed to flush out the main character in more detail. These things I am gradually working on now. My editor was helpful with advice, and I actually re-wrote the first two sections and sent them to him, asking if this was a better start. He confirmed I was on the right track, and he gave me a list of novellas I might like to read to get a better idea of how these books work.

My novella-in-flash was written non-linear and now I am changing this to chronological order initially, editing as I go. Some pieces might be flashbacks. Once it is all or in order, there will be a second edit and hopefully it will read better and I can take it forward. So, after all that, the advice was good, and I believe what I am writing now will be stronger. Would I use Reedsy again? Probably not to find an editor. I kept getting emails reminding me that it is usual to approach five editors. Why, if I've found what I want? And then kept sending me more suggestions, which I no longer wanted. Payment is through Reedsy in four instalments over the month you work with your chosen editor. The developmental edit is thorough and deep, and I have still not read all the notes. I will do this as I rearrange each section.

I guess I wanted to see what Reedsy would offer, but I would look around elsewhere another time. One of the reasons I chose my editor was because he focussed on novellas-in-flash. I also wanted a male perspective on my work, as my main character is male and usually my readers are women! 

If you are a member of The Alliance of Independent Authors you can find an editor through them and gain a discount on fees. I'm no longer a member, but their list is still one of the best. If you know people in the business, even better. However you go about using the services of an editor, it will be scary, emotional, but they do know what they are talking about. As to the cost, it might be beyond some, but look around and ask around. It is also important to choose an editor right for your work/genre.

On a totally different theme, I want to mention Robin Houghton's great poetry spreadsheet of small presses accepting work. It tells you when windows open, if there is a reading fee, a payment and what they are looking for, along with links to websites. I find this a brilliant resource and have found small presses I've never heard of before and had successes with them. Do sign up. It's free.

Monday, 2 December 2024

A memory walk and other news

Cannizaro Park. Its herb garden is in one corner

 During Covid, my friend and I wrote in a lot of strange places. We still talk about it now. When we couldn't meet indoors, we met outdoors in gardens and parks. This graduated to shopping malls and drafty cafes with windows and doors open. But though they were the worst of times, they were also the best of times (sorry Dickens!). We made lots of memories and continued to write in different places.

The strangest place we wrote was at what was then called Centre Court shopping mall in Wimbledon (now called Wimbledon Quarter...not got the same ring, sorry). There was nowhere to sit, so we perched on a tiny window ledge of a shop. Not the most comfortable and at one time we thought we were going to be moved on by the security staff! The ledge was opposite some comfy chairs, all occupied. We kept our eyes on them and tried to move in when someone left, but always missed our opportunity, until a guy offered us his seats as he was leaving. What a nice man, and what dedication we had to writing during these weird times.

We sat away from the icy wind to write in Hays Galleria near London Bridge.

Then there was the bitterly cold day we met in Wimbledon and walked to Cannizaro Park by Wimbledon Common. We headed to the herb garden, a wee gated garden with benches. We wrote in gloves about silly stuff like Hot Lips Salvia, a plant in the garden, who became a person. And we drank homemade vegetable soup I'd brought in a flask. 

By the time cafes were re-opening, the cafe we used to go to had closed down and we found another nearby in Hammersmith by the River Thames. Our laughter often got out of hand over our writing, and we wondered if we would be asked to leave! 

Our bench in Fulham Palace Gardens

Now that friend has moved away, but we still see each other, email and text. Even though we may not have met for months, when we do, our laughter rings out in cafes, and it's just like yesterday. So, I dedicate this section to Julie, my writing buddy and treasured friend. Long may we write and laugh together wherever and whenever we meet.

I am excited to say that I have just had a poem published in London Grip, an online magazine. Nice to end the year with a success. Follow the link and then click on my name (Heather Walker) for a read.

One other piece of news for now - I have joined Sutton Writers. They run a prose group and a poetry group, though the latter is online. They are hoping to set up a writing group in January, which interests me most, and the first session I went to was a try-out for this group. It went really well with people reading and then writing to prompts, and reading again. I also attended the prose group where people read stories or flash stories they have written and feedback is offered, if people want it. They are a varied group and all ages. I read at both groups and look forward to getting to know people better. I find meeting other writers stimulating and encouraging. The sessions are something to aim for and get writing.

I also met up with the London Group on Saturday. I'd missed the last two meetings, so I was pleased to get there for this one. We caught up with one another and what we were working on before writing for an hour on our projects. I am doing edits to a novella-in-flash, which I will talk about next time.

Now, I'm enjoying the Advent season. December is probably my favourite time of winter, with lights and music. I have a concert to sing in next Sunday 8th, so I hope to keep well. There's nothing more soul destroying than having learnt everything 'off-copy' only to be ill on the day of the concert. It has happened to me.

Until next time, keep writing and reading and have a joyful Advent.