SHE-POWER Fiction
SHE-POWER Fiction is my attempt to write consistently and improve my creative writing skills, while I finish my novel, Running With The Dead, and then hopefully go on to become too rich and famous to bother with any of you. 
Every couple of weeks I publish a short story or excerpt, which features a female protagonist (main character) who is struggling with the issues we all face, whilst trying to be the best woman she can be. She may be a mess, she’ll definitely be conflicted, and I’m hoping she’ll resonate with most of you.
Some fiction pieces may be one-offs and others may run as a serial. I’m counting on you to work with me here. I need your feedback and support. Guide me and I will endeavor to write fiction that inspires and moves you.
An Extract From My Novel, Running With The Dead
“So how long are you staying?” Claire asked her sister, the moment they were alone.
“That’s an interesting way to make me feel welcome.” Simone dropped her suitcase on the floor and turned, her eyes sparkling cheekily. “Come on, aren’t you even the teeniest bit glad to see me?”
Claire’s ignored the question. “Do you need money?”
“I’d forgotten you always assume the worst.” Simone fell down onto the perfectly made bed, stretched herself out like a cat, a satisfied smile upon her face. “You really need to relax, Claire. Stress creates wrinkles you know.”
She reached her arms out and fingered the colourful woven blanket on the bed. “Nice. Is this one of the Morelia family’s many contributions to the little people of Mexico?”
Photo by mnd.ctrl
SHE-POWER Fiction: A Taste of Eve
I know what everyone’s saying about me. I’m not stupid.
They think I am because I’m beautiful and I don’t have a job. But brains and beauty are not mutually exclusive, and I don’t have a job because I’m smart enough to know that with my looks I don’t need one.
Don’t hold it against me. It’s hardly my fault. Blame my religious freak of a mother and my deadbeat dad. Her Spanish ancestry obviously blended well with his Irish baby-face and emerald eyes. It’s biology, nothing personal. I’ve just made the best of it. You would too if you were in my shoes.
Photo by Kiss Birds
A Free Writing Exercise Unleashes Lovely Loralee
Free writing exercises are a crucial weapon in the writer’s arsenal. There are many variations, but they all have one thing in common.
Writing Exercises free up your mind and your narrative, and they stir up your creative juices.
I find it helpful in writing to distinguish between my right and left brain. My creative right brain is my intuitive story teller. It has access to the brilliance within - the best language skills, original plotlines and unique solutions to my character’s problems.
My logical left brain, on the other hand, is a natural editor. It knows what isn’t working and can analyze the strengths and defects of the narrative with alarming efficiency. In creative writing we need both brains at different times of the writing process. You can’t find your story with your thinking left brain, but it’s great for critiquing and editing a rough draft.
The problem is that the creative right brain can be an temperamental beast. Sometimes, it’s there and the magic flows. Then, even our first rough words have a certain quality. We can hear our unique writer’s voice and our characters, and there is an exciting foundation from which we can build.
Other times, the right brain locks up. It’s there, but we don’t have the key. We look at an empty page and the knot starts in our stomach. We start writing but all we can think as we type is “this is such shit”. Hardly encouragement to keep going.
First, get a pen and paper. Don’t do this on computer. Now:
Create a name, a job, marital status and location.
Lie back, close your eyes, take a few deep breaths. Really fill your lungs with air and then exhale until there’s nothing left. Return to normal breathing, feel the peace spread through your body.
Now pick up write for 5 minutes. Go with the first ideas that come to mind. Whatever comes out is okay. First person, third person, whatever. Don’t judge.
I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but here are the results of my latest free writing exercise. I’ve fixed the typos, but other than that there’ s been no editing (it kills me to say that - what am I thinking exposing myself this way?):
The Tale of Lovely Loralee
Lovely Loralee, Porn Star, married, from Mackay in North Queensland, Australia
“I remember when I was a little girl, all I wanted in the world was an antique dolls house. You know, one of those traditional two story English Tudor houses where the back opens up and you can get into all the rooms inside. There used to be this one that was always advertised in the Readers Digest.
My dad had it delivered by mail every month for pretty much my entire childhood. In fact, it was the only reading my dad ever did. Never read the paper, and mum always said he didn’t know what was what in the world and didn’t much care. Dad used to tell her he was a sugar farmer and it weren’t none of his business what people did in other far off parts.
Photo by Louise LeBourgieos
SHE-POWER Fiction: The Dilemma
This short is Part 1 of a series.
PINK’s Stupid Girls interrupted her train of thought, the tinny sound erupting from her mobile as it danced across the desk. Clarissa didn’t have to pick it up to know who was calling her. She glanced down at the clock on her computer screen. 8.45pm.
“Shit.” She was tempted not to answer the call, but she knew Scott would keep ringing until she picked up. May as well get it over with.
“Hi honey.” Her voice sounded strained and overly jovial even to her own ears. “I’m leaving now.”
She stood, tucked the mobile into her neck and started collecting the papers from the desk.
“You haven’t left yet? I’m already at the Roystons. I thought you’d at least be on your way.” She heard a thump and imagined him slamming his fist against the steering wheel.
Photo by meyshanworld
SHE-POWER Fiction: Dinner Time Blues
This short is a continuation of SHE-POWER Fiction: The Dilemma
“Look who managed to make it after all.”
Geoff ushered Clarissa into the dining room, one hand nestled on the small of her back, the other still clutching a large glass of red wine, which was sloshing about, threatening to spill on the polished floors.
Clarissa clutched her bulging laptop bag to her body, feeling a little like the new girl at school. She realised that she had not checked her appearance before coming, and quite likely she was wrinkled, frizzy haired and shiny faced right now. Hardly the best look for a sophisticated dinner party.
Photo by RTPeat
SHE-POWER Fiction: The Missing Baby
This short is a continuation of SHE-POWER Fiction: Dinner Time Blues
“You were such an ass tonight.” Clarissa couldn’t help herself. She swore she’d wait until they got home, but sitting here in the taxi she felt like a fire was roaring inside her, smashing at the windows, desperate to come out.
There was no answer. Scott had his head back against the headrest; his face was slack, the overlong blond fringe stuck to one cheek, and a slight whistling rattled in time with his breathing. She could almost see his pink tongue lolling around near his lips with a fine trail of dribble threatening to roll down his chin. He looked so pathetic she was tempted to reach across and slap him.
Photo by normanack
SHE-POWER Fiction: Mama’s Girls
This short is a continuation of The Missing Baby
Clarissa watched the clock as if it was her enemy. Almost 10am and Scott still wasn’t up. She’d already hung out a load of washing, cleaned the kitchen and was on her second cup of coffee. She should have gone for a run, but she just couldn’t be bothered this morning. The wine from last night lingered in her sinuses and her limbs had the kind of dead weight that defies moving in a hurry.
She was half regretting telling Ashley she’d have the barbecue at her place. She knew it was her sister’s birthday, but all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed for the day. Lie on the sofa and watch DVDs. Read the latest Patricia Cornwell book. All these options sounded good. But what she had to do - cater for thirty guests and tell her husband she had a promotion - that, she didn’t want to do at all.
Photo by gotplaid?
SHE-POWER Fiction: I Like A Bit of Phone Sex in the Morning
This short is a continuation of Mama’s Girls
The house was quiet as Clarissa walked toward the bedroom. Obviously Scott was still asleep. So much for helping with the barbecue. He’d be lucky if he was showered and dressed before everyone arrived at this rate.
Opening the bedroom door, Clarissa expected to see Scott still huddled under the quilt, one arm strewn across the bed, taking up all the room.
“Wakey, wakey sleepyhead. We have a lot to do today.”
The bed was empty, the covers pulled back to reveal crumpled white sheets.
Photo by gotplaid?
SHE-POWER Fiction: The Better Wife
This short is a continuation of I Like A Bit Of Phone Sex In The Morning.
“You don’t need me to do anything right now, do you?” Scott placed his half empty coffee mug on the kitchen bench in front of Clarissa and hovered uncertainly near her shoulder.
Clarissa looked at the mug pointedly. “Can you put that in the sink please. I’m trying to cook here.”
Scott huffed under his breath, but picked the mug up and half tossed it onto another bench. “Happy?”
Not for years, Clarissa wanted to scream. Not since you took up sleeping around and humiliating me.
Instead, she said, “That’s not the sink.”
“I’ve got to head out. You want me to pick up anything?” Scott was already backing away and out of the kitchen. “I’ll be here in plenty of time for the party.”
Clarissa didn’t turn around, just tightened her grip on the handle of the knife as she deftly cubed the warm potatoes into a bowl.
“Where are you going?”
Photo by DogFromSpace
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