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Tag Archives: Short stories

Till Death Us Do Part

13 Saturday Feb 2021

Posted by ninevoices in Maggie

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Being published, Henshaw Press, Short stories, Writing Competitions

by Maggie Davies

A cautionary tale – which won a Henshaw Press Short Story Competition a few years back – to mark Valentine’s Weekend. Perhaps it might inspire readers to write a competition entry of their own, and maybe get it printed in an anthology.

I wrapped my arms around Neil and kissed the top of his head. His hair might be the colour of fresh snow these days, but he was far from an old man.

‘We could die together,’ I said. ‘Fly to Switzerland. Make a holiday out of it. Then finish up at that special clinic they’ve got over there.’

‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous.’ He was cross. He’d always been short-tempered and the last few months had been a strain.

‘I’m serious, sweetheart.’ I moved to sit opposite him. ‘You know I couldn’t bear to go on without you.’

‘You’re insane, Beth. You’re still a young woman. In perfect health.’

‘Hardly young.’

‘You’re only sixty.’

‘I mean it, Neil.’ I put my hand over his. ‘I”ll throw myself under a train, if you kill yourself.’

‘Then I can’t do it, can I?’ He rubbed tired eyes. ‘I’ll have to turn into a vegetable and make both our lives a misery. Is that what you want, you silly woman?’

‘No,’ I said. That wasn’t what I wanted at all.

*

It started after Geoff’s wife died. Madeline had been failing for years and, living next door, we’d seen the hell they went through in her final months. Her deterioration had been particularly depressing for Neil, who’d been reading articles about dementia often being hereditary.

‘It’s like my Dad, all over again,’ he’d said, with a shudder. ‘If I ever get like that, I want you to finish me off. Take the carving knife to me. Promise?’

His father’s house smelled. The bathroom, in particular, stank. It took a while for Neil to find out why. The poor old chap knew where he was supposed to go to urinate. He’d just forgotten what to do when he got there and simply peed all over the carpet. It was humiliating for everybody. When he finally died it was a relief.

‘A meat cleaver might be more final,’ I said, trying to lighten his mood. ‘Though messier.’

It became a sick joke between us. Nothing serious. Then, over a few months, things changed dramatically. Neil had always mislaid keys and spectacles. I did myself, but he became incapable of finding anything. I put a wooden fruit bowl on the kitchen dresser and suggested he use that as a collection point, but whenever he went there for something, it was empty.

‘I’m losing the plot, aren’t I?’ he grumbled, after finally locating his house keys in the drawer where we kept the electrical leads. ‘Why would I put them in there? My brain’s turning to Swiss cheese.’

‘All sixty-nine-year-olds mislay things.’ I gave him a hug. ‘Tomorrow we’ll buy some vitamins. That might help.’

Several days later he accosted me in the greenhouse. He looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Why were my spectacles in the fridge?’

‘Whatever are you talking about?’

‘My bloody spectacles were in our refrigerator. On top of the Flora.’ He slapped the side of his head with his hand, as if to knock sense into it. ‘I am going bloody barmy. Aren’t I?’

‘Sweetheart, we all do crazy things. Remember when I started to reverse the car out of the garage? With the up-and-over door still closed?’

‘That’s true.’ He looked relieved, but not much.

However, days later, I glanced out of the kitchen window and said: ‘The bin, sweetheart. It’s Thursday. Didn’t you put it out?’

Neil glanced up from The Independent. ‘It’s okay, I did it when I got back from the newsagents. Before I raked up those dead leaves at the bottom of the garden.’

‘So where is it, then?’

He abandoned the paper and peered outside. ‘Damned if I know. Perhaps the bin men emptied it and stuck the thing next door by mistake.’

They hadn’t, of course. It was where it always was, behind the shed. Still full.

‘You meant to do it,’ I said, when he eventually came back inside. ‘Sometimes I mean to clean the oven, but then conveniently forget. Probably because it’s a chore.’

Neil paced up and down, like an animal in a trap. ‘But it’s not just the bin, is it? I lost my electric razor yesterday, and my credit cards the day before. Then I left the bathroom tap running last night when I went to bed. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do next. It’s like being in a nightmare.’

‘You’re preoccupied, that’s all. Though maybe you should see the doctor.’

‘I’m damned if I want to be asked if I know what day of the week it is.’

‘And what day is it?’

‘It’s Thursday. September the 25th.’

‘There you are, my love. You’re fine.’

*

The days dragged on until Geoff wandered in through the kitchen door one morning, as he often did, with some runner beans for us from his allotment.

‘I could do with my mower back, if that’s okay,’ he said to Neil.

‘Your mower?’

‘You know, mechanical thingy that cuts grass and makes a godawful racket? That you borrowed from me last weekend?’

Neil’s fists clenched at his sides. ‘I was planning to come over and borrow it. Tomorrow.’

‘But you’ve already got it, old man. That’s why I need it back.’ There was an awkward pause. ‘Okay,’ continued Geoff, looking embarrassed. ‘Tell you what, you hang on to it and let me have it back whenever it’s convenient.’

‘But I don’t have it,’ Neil protested, looking at me. ‘Do I?’

‘It’s in the garage,’ I said, avoiding his eye.

There was a silence, before Geoff slapped Neil on the shoulder in a not-very-convincing show of bonhomie. ‘Not to worry. I missed the dentist last week. He still charged me for the appointment, though. Grasping bugger.’

The incident hit Neil hard. ‘I told you I was getting like Dad,’ he said. ‘This proves it.’

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I kept silent. Instead I put my arms round his waist, buried my face in his scratchy sweater and gave him a big hug.

‘I’d rather be six foot under than lose my dignity,’ he murmured into my hair, sounding close to tears.

‘At least get a proper diagnosis,’ I urged. ‘What if you’re wrong?’

‘What’s the point of a diagnosis? There’s no cure, is there?’ He extracted himself from my grasp and looked me in the eye. ‘I’m taking matters into my own hands while I still can. I could deteriorate rapidly. That’s what terrifies me. Leaving it too late.’

‘Don’t do it, Neil. Please!’

‘You’ll manage. People do. Look at old Geoff.’

‘I refuse to even discuss it.’

‘But we must talk about it. Plans have to be made.’ He took my hand in his and kissed it. ‘I need you to understand,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t.’

‘I understand perfectly,’ I said. ‘I just don’t agree.’

‘Of course you don’t. But you will support me?’

‘You mean, hand you a full bottle of pills?’

‘And get you in trouble with the law? Assisted suicide is a crime. It wouldn’t be right to involve you in anything like that. And that Swiss clinic business raises too many legal questions, never mind the cost. But I’ve done some research on the internet. If I steer my car into that nice, solid brick wall by the railway bridge, my worries should be over before I know what’s happened. Especially if I neglect to wear my seat belt and put my foot down, on a wet night. That way, the life insurance people can’t ask awkward questions.’

‘Oh, sweetheart, you mustn’t think about money. I’ve got my pension, haven’t I?’

‘A fat lot of good that will do you. Just think of all the money those insurance companies have had from us over the years. They owe us.’ He patted my arm. ‘You deserve some happiness after I’ve gone. I refuse to leave you hard up.’

‘Please, sweetheart,’ I begged. ‘Don’t do this. I’ll look after you, whatever happens. We promised, for better or worse. Remember?’

‘Not another word. My mind is made up. We’ll go away somewhere special for a second honeymoon. Then come back and I’ll make a quick exit.’

When the time finally came, Neil and I kissed goodbye at the door before he went out to the car. We were both crying. Then I watched him drive off at speed into the night. Losing him like this would be dreadful, but he was right: life would go on.

I went back inside and picked up the phone to dial Geoff’s number. It had taken us three careful months of planning to get to this.

‘Fingers crossed, darling, but I think we’ve finally done it,’ I said, when he answered. ‘All we have to do is wait for the traffic police to come knocking on my door.’

*********

Please note that my husband, both then and now, is very much alive.

Barbara Pym – more please

23 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by ninevoices in Authors, Tanya, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Barbara Pym, Finding a Voice, Short stories

In a radio talk recorded in February 1978 and transmitted on BBC Radio 3 in April, less than two years before she died, Barbara Pym described a favourite television quiz game, where panellists were asked to guess the authorship of certain passages read out to them. ‘There were no prizes for guessing, no moving belt or desirable objects passing before their eyes, just the pleasure and satisfaction of recognising the unmistakable voice of …  whoever it might be. I think that’s the kind of immortality most authors would want – to feel that their work would be immediately recognisable as having been written by them and by nobody else. But of course it’s a lot to ask for!’

It might be, but Barbara Pym’s voice is entirely and delightfully unmistakable; it’s unlike any other author, however longingly we search. There just isn’t enough of it for us readers – if only she’d written more! Blame her publishers who rejected her seventh novel An Unsuitable Attachment in 1963. Thank goodness she went on writing during the following fourteen years of rejection – though probably not as much as she might have done…

One of the joys of Barbara Pym’s novels is the way characters reappear. They are our old friends… Here in WRITINGS is a short story written as a light-hearted tribute to Barbara Pym featuring some of them:  Tread Softly in the Ladies.

 

 

 

Competitions to Enter in December – and the beginning of January

02 Saturday Dec 2017

Posted by ninevoices in Competitions to Enter, Maggie

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Tags

Arcadia Science Fiction Short Story Competition, Deborah Rogers Writers Award, Magic Oxygen Literary Prize, Ruth Rendell Short Story Competition, Short stories, Stephen E King, Templar Poetry Awards, The Mogford Prize, The Orwell Prize

H E Bates Short Story Competition. A maximum of 2,000 words on any subject. Prizes: £500; £100; £50. Entry fee £6. Deadline 4 December. Details: http://www.hebatescompetition.org.uk/competition-rules

Amnesty International York Short Story Contest. Maximum 1,700 words on the theme of ‘Borders‘. Prizes: £50, plus signed novel and publication on Amnesty International York website. Deadline: 10 December. Details: yorkamenstyuk.blogspot.co.uk/p/competition.html

Deborah Rogers Writers Award. First 20,000-30,000 words of an unpublished novel by a debut author. Prizes: £10,000. Deadline: 15 December. Award is in memory of literary agent Deborah Rogers. Details: deborahrogers-foundation.org

Templar Poetry – Quarterly Portfolio Awards. 10-12-page portfolio. Entry fee: £12. Prize: publication. Deadline 18 December. Details: templarpoetry.com/pages/submissions-and-awards

Ruth Rendell Short Story Competition for flash fiction. Maximum 1,000 words. Prize: £1,000 plus commission of four further stories. Entry fee: £15. Deadline 22 December. Details: http://www.interactstrokesupport.org/news/ruth-rendell-short-story-competition-2017

Arcadia Science Fiction Short Story Competition. Short story of maximum 5,000 words. Rules: age 18-plus, no children’s stories or erotica. Entry fee: £5.50. Prize: percentage of anthology royalties. Deadline 31 December. Details: http://www.audioarcadia.com/science-fiction-competition

Magic Oxygen Literary Prize. Poem: maximum 50 lines. Short Story: maximum 4,000 words, excluding title. Rules: age 15-plus. Prizes: £1,000; £300, £100; 2x£50. Entry fee: £5. Details: http://www.magicoxygen.co.uk Entry fees contribute to the planting of trees in Africa.

The Mogford Prize for a 2,500 word story on the theme of food and drink. Prize: £10,000. Entry fee: £10.Deadline: 3 January. Details: http://www.oxford-hotels-restaurants.co.uk/mogford prize

The Orwell Prize 2018 – for non-fiction: journalism, books, political writing. Entry is FREE. Prizes: £3,000 in each category. Deadline 11 January. Details: http://www.orwell-foundation.org

Times/Chicken House Children’s Fiction Competition for full-length novels, 30,000-80,000 words, suitable for readers aged 7-18. Prizes: Publication deal worth £10,000. All long-listed writers receive an editorial report. Entry fee: £15. Deadline: 18 December. Details: http://www.chickenhousebooks.com/submissions

Exeter Novel Prize for the first 10,000 words, including synopsis, of an unpublished manuscript by an author not currently represented. The winner will receive £500 plus a trophy. Five finalists will each get £75. Entry fee: £18. Deadline: 1 January. Details: http://www.creativewritingmatters.co.uk (One of ninevoices made it to the final five last year, and has a rather splendid trophy to prove it, so it CAN be done)

One in Four new writer contest, run jointly by Trapeze, single parents’ charity Gingerbread and women’s lifestyle website The Pool are seeking a novel celebrating single parent families. Your first 5,000 words could earn a £10,000 publishing contract with Orion, plus three hours mentoring. CLOSING DATE IS 4 DECEMBER. Details: OneInFourSubmissions@orionbooks.co.uk

I could be wrong, but at such a busy time of year, surely these competitions will receive fewer entries than usual? Which might you a better chance of getting noticed?  So I suggest you follow Stephen King’s example, and keep entering these things until you get recognition.

Please remember to double-check all details.

Agents Don’t Like Your Work?

31 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by ninevoices in Maggie, Short stories, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Agents, Short stories

I’m spending a soggy morning studying scribbled comments on a story I read at a recent ninevoices’ gathering.

There was one description – of a workman on a ladder – that elicited so many opposing views (talk about a Celtic and Rangers match!) that I asked people write ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in the margin.

This was the result: (You know who you are, people!)

No. (with a suggested alternative)
Yes! (with two ticks)
No.
Yes! (underlined) plus the comment ‘For heaven’s sake do NOT (underlined) lose this.
Yes.
One abstention

My cat has just strolled over the page and deposited a muddy paw print on the contentious paragraph, which may suggest a further ‘no’, though she isn’t officially a member of our group.

HOWEVER – this demonstrates how differently we all view the written word. Had this been a group of agents considering a submission it might have resulted in three requests for the full manuscript.

I will sleep on what to do, though I’m quite attached to my description and do have a majority on my side.  If I ignore the cat…

Competitions to Enter in June

26 Thursday May 2016

Posted by ninevoices in Maggie

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Tags

Bridport Prize, Competitions, Poetry, Short stories

Not many competitions to enter in June – half-term, holidays, the silly-season – but there are some. They are modest by comparison with the major prizes on offer at other times of the year, but it’s worth remembering that will mean less entries to compete against.

Troubadour International Poetry Prize for original poems by adult writers in English and no longer than 45 lines. Closing date: 21 June. Entry fee £5. Prizes: £5,000; £1,000 and £500, with 20 £25 prizes and a £100 Troubadour restaurant gift voucher and bottle of champagne for entries from London and the South-East. Details: http://www.coffeehousepoetry.org/prizes

Erewash Writers’ Group New Writer Competition, for a story up to 3,000 words by new writers only. Prize: £40. Entry fee £3. Details from: erewashwriterscompetition.weebly.com/2016-ewg-new-writer-competition.html

Words Magazine Short Story Competition. Up to 2,000 words on the theme of Christmas (Yes, I know – but magazines have long lead times!). Entry is FREE. Prizes: £50 and £25 plus, presumably, publication in the magazine. Deadline June 30. Details: http://www.words-mag.com

Henshaw Press Short Story Competition. Up to 2,000 words. Prizes: £100; £50; £25. Fee: £5. Details: henshawpress.co.uk

Please remember to check the websites for full details before entering.

And don’t forget that there are a handful of days left in May, if you’re tempted to have a go at the Bridport. I sent my novel entry in, experienced a glitch, but was given all kinds of help in sorting it out. They are truly lovely people. (Mind you, they’ll probably still give my book the thumbs down, but that’s writing for you!)

Image

Six-Word Story Competition

09 Tuesday Feb 2016

Tags

Competitions, Short stories

Lion

We would like to invite our readers to participate in a competition to write a six-word story based on the photograph above. Please put your submission in the ‘Comments’ section for this post. There is no entry fee, but a small prize of £10 will be sent to the winner. (No need to submit your details. We will ask for them if you’ve won.) The deadline is midnight Wednesday, 17th February 2016 and the winner will be chosen at the ninevoices meeting the following day.

To provide you with a bit of inspiration, this writer’s effort was:

“Just tell me straight.” “Not lyin’.”

No doubt you can do better.

Posted by ninevoices | Filed under challenge, Competition, Elizabeth, Short stories

≈ 40 Comments

Congratulations to Frances Hardinge

28 Thursday Jan 2016

Posted by ninevoices in Maggie

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Costa Book o the Year, Penshurst Village, Short stories

We’d like to add our congratulations to all the others Frances Hardinge has received on winning the Costa Book of the Year Award with The Lie Tree.

Apparently Frances was born and raised in Penshurst Village, ten minutes’ drive from ninevoices’ country. I wonder if she ever found inspiration for her other-wordly stories from the ancient tombstones in the churchyard of Penshurst Church? There is one there, embossed with flaming torches, which tells of two men, father and son, who died from the foul air in a well – one having gone down to try and rescue the other. The stone also commemorates the mother, who died within the year, no doubt of grief.

Apparently Frances started writing seriously after winning a short story competition in a magazine. Let that be an incentive to us all…

‘Delayed Reaction’

26 Tuesday Jan 2016

Posted by ninevoices in Books, Characters, Ed, Read Lately, Short stories

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Amersham, King's Cross, Short stories, Trains, writing groups, York

The latest publication by a writing group to adorn my shelves is Delayed Reaction, the work of the Just Write writing group from Amersham in Bucks. This collection of short stories is ingeniously put together: they all take place on the 15-08 train from King’s Cross to York, which comes to a halt because of a broken-down train ahead of it. It sits in the Cambridgeshire countryside for over an hour. Delayed ReactionThe delay materially affects the lives of the protagonists of the 10 stories – some for the better, some …

They are free-standing stories but some characters appear in more than one.   Why is the Essex boy banker so agitated and so concerned with his briefcase? Why is the woman sitting opposite him so unhappy, and why does she ask his advice on how to commit fraud? What have the expensively clad businesswoman and the slatternly dressed woman in flip-flops got to say to each other? Will the 16-year-old schoolgirl finally change into the frilly pink dress she hates so much? Why for the young man could the delay be literally a matter of life and death?

Leave the last story to last, is my advice. Talk about a twist in the tail …

The writing group must have had a lot of fun at the meetings where they worked out how their characters interlocked!

Delayed Reaction is produced in aid of the Royal Marsden Cancer Charity. ISBN 978-0-9931222-2-4 RRP paperback £6-99 e-book £5-99   Go to http://www.delayedreaction.org.uk/ for purchase details and other details about the Just Write group.

My Christmas Tree is Planted…

08 Tuesday Dec 2015

Posted by ninevoices in Maggie

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Magic Oxygen Literary Prize, Planting a Word Forest in Kenya ya, Short stories

Just heard from Magic Oxygen that they’ve received my entry into their short story competition and the (very modest) entry fee of £5 has been translated into a young tree in their WORD FOREST.

They will shortly send me GPS co-ordinates, in case I plan to grab a jet and make a visit. Maybe with a silver spade….though I guess it’s too late for that.

Please let me encourage others to follow my example. Apart from the good this is doing the environment, not to mention those cheerful-looking Kenyan schoolchildren, the first prize is £1,000.

Deadline is December 31st.

Win a Matador Self-Publishing Package

19 Thursday Nov 2015

Posted by ninevoices in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Short stories, Take a Break

Get your novel published by Troubador’s Matador imprint with this exclusive Writer’s Magazine competition.
Troubador managing director, Jeremy Thompson, and Writing Magazine editor, Jonathan Telfer will select one winner, whose novel will be published and marketed by Matador with an initial print run of 300 copies.
To enter – WHICH IS FREE – you must have a novel of up to 100,000 words finished and ready for publication by the closing date of 31 December 2015.

Enter:

  • Online at http://writ.rs.wmmatador
  • send your extract (the first chapter (or up to 10,000 words) plus a synopsis of up to 300 words in a single document (doc, txt, pdf,odt) to: writingcourses@warnersgroup.co.uk
  • by post: Matador Competition (Ref Code WMTROUB15) Writing Magazine, Warners Group Publications, 31-32 Park Row, Leeds LS1 5JD
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