Things don't always go to plan

Well not in my house anyway. The plan for today was to do the laundry, a necessity really because there was a guy hanging around with a Union Jack threatening to claim the lad’s laundry basket for England. Then I was going to tackle the ironing. Not a job I relish but something that needed to be done. As I said that was the plan.
No 2 son (I number them it’s easier) came home from work and asked if I’d drive no1 son’s car up to a barn in the middle of the rolling hills of the Clun Valley where he had a friend’s van that needed to be collected. Simple enough job, would only take a few minutes and then I could liberate the laundry basket. Oh how wrong I was.
First of all there isn’t a road up to this barn just a rough track, the emphasis being on the word rough, but we got there. No 2 tried to start the van but of course the battery was hopelessly flat but being an ex boy scout, well actually he was a Beaver, he’d gone prepared with a spare battery to jump start the one on the van. Me in the meantime decided to turn the car around ready to go home.
Turn a car round, easy enough job I’ve been driving for donkey’s years. I looked around and saw a flat area of concrete, damp with the rain but that wasn’t a problem so I drove forward, then put the car into reverse and started to go backwards. Suddenly the back end of the car went down, thinking I’d missed the concrete I put it into first and tried to pull forward. It didn’t work. So I tried again and still it didn’t work. Deciding there might be something wrong, I got out and looked. The concrete that I thought was damp with the rain actually happened to be freshly laid and was still wet. Panic set in as I yelled to no 2 who climbed out of the van, which still refused to start and came around to have a look at what was wrong. At this point I will spare your blushes as to exactly what he said but you can imagine. I think also panic had set in with him to, because the only way he could see to get the car out of the concrete was to tow it with the still refusing to start van.
But, I’ll give him his due and remember he was in the Beavers when he was six, he noticed a digger type thing with a big bucket on the front parked not far from no 1 son’s very stuck car. Climbing into the cab, he started it, reversed it, found a towing strap and pulled the car clear. The relief we felt was overwhelming. After parking the digger type thing back where he found it he turned his attention once more to the van.
Finally it started. ‘Right Mum you go ahead and I’ll follow you and oh by the way you’re paying to jet wash the car’, which at this point was covered in mud, concrete and other nasty things. I drove back down the track expecting to see no 2 following me. I didn’t. I got to the bottom of the track and waited but still there was no sign of no 2. Just then my phone went. The number flashing on the screen was no 2’s.
I answered the call. ‘Can you come back Mum? I’ve got the van stuck.’ My heart was rapidly sinking as I turned the car round and drove once again, up the track. There with the back wheel perched on the embankment was the van. Now this van is not a small van, but a dirty great Renault Master so what he expected me to do about it in a Rover was beyond me.
But Dan knew. The idea was to tow the van uphill with the Rover. I had my doubts which were confirmed with the burning smell of the clutch on the Rover and the van not moving. In the end we admitted defeat. I shifted the car while Dan went and got the digger thing with the bucket. Fortunately that made short work of moving the van. However, by this time the battery was flat and in the end, we left the van where it was, I came home and Dan went to get his mate to help him.
I’m pleased to say the wet concrete has been sorted, the car has been cleaned and the farmer, well he saw the funny side of it and laughed.
So my afternoon turned out not to be what was expected and to be honest I don’t want to go through it again, although as I said everything is now sorted. But it’s a bit like writing really. We sit down at our computer, a story already planned out and then maybe a character will take over and the finished product is nothing like we intended it to be. Do we go with it or do we stick to our original intentions? That’s up to the author but I often think that it’s fun to go with that character and in my experience it usually makes for a better story just like my afternoon. After all you’d really have been bored if I’d written about the various spin cycles on my washing machine, wouldn’t you?

Can men do it?

Can they write women's fiction?

Yes they can and just to prove it, check out this month's Fiction Feast. Turn to page 46 read and enjoy Wrekin Writer Simon Whaley's story 'Chief suspect Mickey Mouse.'

Well done Simon. I know it's taken Simon a long time to get a story in this magazine but determination, hard work and knowing his market has all paid off. A lesson for us all.

For more information on Simon and his work check out his website at www.simonwhaley.co.uk or follow his blog at http://simonwhaleytutor.blogspot.com

Wrekin Writers do it again.

Have you received your copy of the writing mags yet? If so have a look and see what members of Wrekin Writers have been up to.

Writing Magazine has a letter in by Julie Phillips about her experiences

with a local free mag.

Writers' News has a letter in written by Fiona Smith.

But we don't stop with the writing mags. The National Trust Magazine has a letter in by Simon Whaley and Angeline Wheeler has had a letter published in the Shropshire Star.

Well done Wrekin Writers.

The importance of getting it right

Do you remember where you were and what you were doing on the evening of 25th June 2007. I do. I remember it vividly. My family were fleeing our home as the River Corve in Ludlow gushed into our house.

This picture was taken seconds after we got out and before the realisation that we were homeless had even dawned on us.

The following morning after a night spent crying, I went back to the house to get us some clothes for us all. My home was ruined, irreplaceable family photographs destroyed and our lives were in tatters. Everything we took for granted had gone and that night we had no idea where we were going to sleep. Desperately sad times that although we recovered from, doesn't take much to bring those feelings and memories back to us.

So imagine how I felt this week when the headline on the front of my local paper read 'Flood Warning Camera Plan.' The article went on to say that Ludlow Town Council had been awarded a £10,000 grant from the Environment Agency and they wanted to install a camera linked to a website to give flood warnings. Well excuse me but I thought that was a joke, after all the best way of telling if the rivers are going to flood is to note the excessive amount of water flowing through them and for that you don't need an expensive camera system.

The article also mentioned that another use for the camera would be so that water levels could be gauged to see whether it was safe or not to use the river for leisure activities. To me this was the local council trying to justify the expenditure of the cameras for leisure facilities by using the excuse that it was there as a flood warning system. I thought the whole thing was sick so this morning I contacted my local radio station and told them exactly what I thought and how I felt.

It turned out to be an interesting experience. Following my interview they had the town clerk of Ludlow Town Council on and she confirmed that the cameras were primarily there for the tourism and leisure facilities and she was sorry about what had been written in the local paper as it was not their intention to use the floods of 2007 as an excuse to buy the cameras.

So, yes I have written to the local paper and expressed my disgust at their article but oh isn't it so important to get facts right because incorrect facts can cause unnecessary distress. As writers we have to be so careful and for those who do any form of journalism always remember, report not distort the facts.

Horror Writing

Fortunately Saturday morning was bright and sunny rather than dark, rainy and foggy because the subject matter of our workshop would certainly have put many members off.

Horror writing, it's certainly not a genre that I have ventured into, well not intentionally anyway. But under Mary V Williams' expert guidance it really doesn't sound that scary at all, but is it?

Where do you start? Like any writing you start with what you know. Okay fortunately I don't have experience of vampires, werewolves or or psychotic killers but I do know what it’s like to be frightened and I know what frightens me. That is exactly where Mary told us to start. Many members wrote for a few minutes or what frightens them and when they read their work it was quite revealing and very interesting. We’re all different, what scares one person doesn’t affect another creating diversity and interest and many many potential stories.

For more information on Mary V Williams, her publications and Inky Digits the writers’ group she runs in Market Drayton, Shropshire see her website on www.inkydigits.com.

And to Mary, many many thanks for an entertaining and informative workshop that the whole group enjoyed.

Chairman's Challenge

The challenge that was accepted by the group for July was 'Who or What motivates and inspires you to write and why?' I had the pleasure of judging this and believe me it wasn't easy. As chair, it was interesting because month after month these members turn up and share their work but we have never really discussed what actually motivates them to sit down and do some writing. Many of their stories I think all writers will identify with.

1st - Nicola Vincent

In the second infants, I wrote a poem, “Caterpillars Are Many Colours”. My teacher deemed it a masterpiece and displayed it on the wall for several years to come.

Three decades on I dream of seeing lyrical prose worthy of Toni Morrison flow from my pen; for the covers in the bookshop to bear my name, alongside the slogan ‘Orange Prize-Winner’.

Yet the truth, to paraphrase the poet Naomi Shihab Nye, is that I write not to become “Famous” but because I never forget what I can do.

I write not to let my six year old self down.

2nd - Angeline Wheeler

My Inspiration

Year 1982, age 32. Qualifications zero, third child beginning school. Helping at school I realized I had a flair with words and enjoyed them in small ways with the children. There I met someone who really took an interest and encouraged me to go to evening classes where I gained three G.C.E. Later he helped me with A level literature by reading and advertising my work then again through an access year to higher education. Then something came UP between us and I had to make a choice so I moved on for a while.

Although at this time and ever since, my husband was and is supportive he is not interested, leaving me with a depth of gratitude to the man who inspired and motivated me to believe in myself.

3rd - Sue Ross

You ask what has inspired me

And wait with baited breath

To hear the story

Of a world

Created

By my hand

And death as well as life

Was written

Then,

In darkness

Waiting.

I scribed this world

Creator

And Divine,

I watched a zillion sunsets,

Caused great galaxies to

Swirl

Entwine,

The firmament, that’s one of mine

You know.

I drank of oceans vast,

Like finest wine

A heady brew,

I wore night’s blackest cloak

To shoot the stars

And furrowed through the sands of time

To write this world

For you.

Treat it well.

Chairman's Challenge

The Chairman's Challenge for June was write a hundred words on 'tedious' Our Vice - Chair Barbara Groom had the task of judging it. One I know she didn't find easy although she thoroughly enjoyed it.

1st - Barbara Maitra

I’m undeniably discriminated against. I’m an orphaned tubby, short arsed donkey sequestered on a starvation patch. I count the blades of grass, how tedious!

The 2 stallions call me wonky donkey and feast 5 star in the top field.

I’m planning to kick pretty boy Banjo to death one day, followed by a swift getaway. Boyo I can run like a Rhino. The other brat gets a nip from me if I get close but I’m cooking up something nasty for him also.

I admit I’m psychologically disturbed but Life in solitary does this to you. Think I’ll lie down now. Dreaming up death threats puts me to sleep nicely.

2nd - Sue Ross

How tedious is

The daily dodge

Of marching cones,

Regrouping nightly

New formations spring around each bend

(Just to keep you on your toes)

They guard the highways,

Wait to catch us out,

Is it this way, that way?

Who bloody knows?

And all the time

The furtive cameras

Lurk

3rd - Brenda Carter

When I was at school I thought it was boring to stay with Aunt Jenny for tea because Mum worked. No T.V. and all those antiques.

How tedious, I thought as a teenager, that Mum insisted that I do errands for my Aunt.

It was tedious to sit with my Aunt as she grew older. But a maggot wormed in my brain so I paid especial attention.

Aunt Jessie passed away and I felt guilty with hope.

But oh, how tedious it was to sort out her precious things; she’d made me an executor of her will and left everything to charity.