Archive for July, 2010
The soft glow of the big-screen television bathed his face in blue and green light. Abruptly a deep red flooded the darkened room and he jerked from his drunken stupor. It was her. Announcing the late news with little snippets of what was to appear. He listened to her perfect annunciation, he watched the slight lisp. He leaned forward and turned the contrast and colour up to full. She changed from a perfectly colored and contrasted newsreader into a fluorescent characterture of herself. A smile passes over his face and turned, gradually into a goofy grin. The item finished and he slumped back onto the couch, a man with a purpose. He reached for the telephone.
Ingrid Hipkiss turned the key and opened the door to her small, three roomed, inner-city apartment. She was bushed. She had been on the go since 5 am and already the early autumn night was drawing around the starkly furnished rooms. She kicked off her shoes and then her skirt and shirt and made toward the bathroom. She was preparing to remove her underwear when there was a sharp tapping on the door.
“Damn’” she muttered as she struggled into last nights discarded dressing gown. She pulled it tight around her body and made sure it was properly knotted and then peered through the peephole. A young man stood on the other side of the door holding an enormous package of flowers encased in purple paper.
“Yes,” Ingrid called through the door.
“Package for Hipkiss, Apartment 9,” came the reply.
“Yes,” she replied, “ Just leave them outside.”
“No can do. Need a signature,” came the second reply.
Ingrid gingerly slipped the lock on the door and inched it open.
“Just pass through the thingy and I’ll sign,” she said although she was not sure whether this particular deliveryman had an electronic recorder.
A small handheld device was slipped through the gap. She signed and, seeing the company logo opened the door.
“Someone must really be fond of you,” the young man said, a smirk on his face.
Ingrid ignored his comment, grabbed the flowers, and closed the door.
I have been away for a while and on return I am reflecting on what this blog actually means to me.
I started writing about a decade ago and have several successful publications, but, like most fledgling writers I wished for greater success. I (mistakenly?) thought that having a blog would accomplish several things for me. Firstly – develop some discipline. I aimed for one post per week which would make me sit down and at least get a rough draft of a short story out each week. And I generally succeeded. Secondly – get my writing out to a larger and more culturally diverse audience and so, thirdly – get serious feedback about style, substance, and talent. This has not happened and I am wondering how to encourage people to write feedback, to tell me what it is they like, what they despise.
I have still been writing but my blog stats have rather stagnated and therefore I have become frustrated to keep it up.
Any comments would be appreciated !