Saturday, 31 July 2010
Friday, 30 July 2010
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Monday, 26 July 2010
- The supermarket was busy.
What makes a supermarket busy? Obvious answer - people. Mums and dads, and kids and babies and OAPs and stressed out checkout assistants and shelf stackers. Add in a load of trolleys, and tannoy announcements and flickering fluorescent lights and the hum of the refrigerator units...
- The office was extremely untidy.
Papers spilling out of files, books stacked up in piles over the floor, nowhere to sit as all the chairs are full of stuff already, envelopes fanning out over the carpet, paper clips as numerous as swarming ants...
Think active verbs and visual images that imply movement - eg spilling, fanning, piling and so on. Make your description as dynamic as possible for interesting reading.
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Saturday, 24 July 2010
Friday, 23 July 2010
Thursday, 22 July 2010
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
Monday, 19 July 2010
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Saturday, 17 July 2010
Friday, 16 July 2010
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Monday, 12 July 2010
They come upon me all silent and menacing like Pinkerton Detectives, and they flank me – Depression on my left, Loneliness on my right. They don’t need to show me their badges. I know these guys very well. We’ve been playing a cat-and-mouse game for years now. Though I admit that I am surprised to meet them in this elegant Italian garden at dusk. This is no place they belong.
I say to them, ‘How did you find me here? Who told you I had come to Rome?’
Depression, always the wise guy, says, ‘What – you’re not happy to see us?’
‘Go away, I tell him.
Loneliness, the more sensitive cop, says, ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. But I might have to tail you the whole time you’re travelling. It’s my assignment.’ .......
.....‘It’s not fair for you to come here,’ I tell Depression. ‘I paid you off already. I served my time back in New York.’
But he just gives me that dark smile, settles into my favourite chair, puts his feet on my table and lights a cigar, filling the place with his awful smoke. Loneliness watches and sighs, then climbs into my bed and pulls the covers over himself, fully dressed, shoes and all. He’s going to make me sleep with him again tonight, I just know it.
Sunday, 11 July 2010
I paused, muesli spoonful halfway to my mouth. ‘I thought I’d got about ten minutes.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘We like to start on time, you know.’
It was eight fifty on a Sunday morning – eight fifty one, to be precise, and Jan liked to be precise. I’d seen her last night at the BBQ, lining up the wine glasses in a neat line. A neat line, asking to be broken. And it had been.
I sighed. But not by me. I had kept my vow to stay sober before giving my talk, although judging by the look on Jan’s face, she didn’t believe me. I put the last spoonful down, uneaten. I thought about having another, last drink of tea, but decided against that too. I didn’t want to be late, I thought, as I pushed back my chair and stood up.
‘Which room am I in?’
Jan showed no sign of being irritated, though she must have been, as she’d already told me many times before. Along with all sorts of other stuff about the conference, which I’d managed to forget, or mislay. My room at home was scattered with bits of paper as I’d decided to reorganise my entire filing system that week. It had seemed a better idea than writing a novel, which was what my agent thought I was doing. Somewhere under all the bits of paper, the conference information lay. In other words, it wasn’t with me.
Jan told me which room I was speaking in, and checked her watch again. I’m sure it was fast. Either that, or time was being squished, like electrons going round the Large Hadron Collider 574 feet under the Franco-Swiss border near Geneva.
I sighed again. We weren’t in Geneva now. We were in Greenwich.