‘Fishing for Readers’

A short essay on opening lines in flash fiction. Flash Fiction Chronicles.


A little bit of sci fi first published in Powfast Fiction in 2010 and re-posted here in the interests of promoting (see what I did there?) recycling: http://conboyhillfiction.wordpress.com/2012/08/19/promotion/. Very short.

Poetry mnemonics – singing up your iambics

I am just getting round to the idea that rhythm in prose is a thing and that poetry might hold some clues as to how best to apply it. The trouble is, iambic means nothing to me no matter how many times I look it up; trochaic – same thing, and don’t get me started on anapestic which I still think of as a kind of wallpaper. Whoever invented these monikers surely wanted to keep the whole business in-house like a kind of holy catechism that novitiates have to prove they have learned before being allowed to voice any opinion. But this doesn’t help if you need a kind of shorthand, a word that covers the bases and that you can use at least in your own head to bring to mind and flag up a rhythm so you can use knowledge and strategy in your writing instead of just instinct.

Well, I like music and although I can barely tell a three-four-time from a – ok, I’ve no idea what the others are called – I can play them in my head. So I found some tracks that seem to exemplify the impenetrable poetic terms that slide straight out of my brain the minute I’ve stopped reading the definition. Here we go, the sections of verse are from Rhythm and Meter in English Poetry:

Iambic: That time of year thou mayst in me behold. That’s the chorus of the Quartermaster’s Stores. Go on, try it, ‘My eyes are dim I cannot see ...’

Trochaic: Tell me not in mournful numbers. My Darlin’ Clementine, yes?

Spondaic (I kid you not): Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! Try ‘Original’ by Leftfield.  It looks like it might leave ‘O Sea’ dangling a bit but let’s not get picky, we’re on a roll.

Anapestic: And the sound of a voice that is still. The Mexican Hat Dance, for sure.

Dactylic: This is the forest primeval, the murmuring pines and the hemlock (the last foot is a trochee, but then you knew that). I’m hearing Oompah band for this so I dug out an album of Tyrolean music (bought after a skiing holiday, as you do) and found a track. Right or wrong – and it’s a close thing – you’re not going to forget your dactylics once you’ve seen Your Man in the lederhosen dancing to Auerhahn-Plattler. 

So, that’s my list, what’s yours?

‘Emily Buckingham and the Major’s Madam’

SCEBATHDMrs Wilberforce, fending off the attentions of her visitor and bending forwards in an attempt to field the low grasps of his hands, while also pulling at the leg of her outfit, was reversing into the street, presenting a set of cheeks such as might be seen in an exotic zoo. 7269 words in the fine spirit of farce. Emily Buckingham and the Major’s Madam‘, a paid download from Ether Books, September 2014.

‘Sequenced Heir, Nipped Rind’

spider web


“The ambient light is the colour of swamp fog; I am suspended from the ceiling in a net like a balloon at a solstice party; and there is a worm in my mouth. This has to be the mother of all hangovers.”


On Readwave 


Indie Authors Linda MacDonald & Cathryn Grant

I am not really a reviewer so I am stopping short of calling this a book review – and in any case, it concerns five books at least so we’d be here all day. Instead, I’m going to just talk about two indie authors – one American, the other British – both of whom write about relationships in a way that takes the reader right inside the characters, following every introspective argument, uncertainty, dilemma, and impactful resolution. Beyond that, they are chalk and cheese. Cathryn Grant writes suburban noir and introduces me to people with whom I have nothing in common but nevertheless gets me engaged with them within minutes. Linda MacDonald writes about the midlife crises of people whose life-styles are familiar to me – I’m interested because I know people like this and I want to see how things work out for them. Both writers show a knowledge of how people work that is almost alarming, and do this justice by their minutely focused attention to detail. And that’s where the similarities end: the one is utterly American and the other so quintessentially British, her novels all but come with an order of fresh-cut cucumber sandwiches.

Cathryn writes intricately plotted novels featuring different sets of characters. You know something bad is going to happen but you don’t know what, and when it does, the page-turning comes from watching the characters’ interplay and gradual dissolution. Cathryn’s people start out glossy and perfect and are slowly deconstructed by the events in their lives; every step believable – if sometimes yell-at-the-page-dumb – with nothing coming out of the blue. Pay attention; with the odd exception, everything is significant.

I read Demise of the Soccer Moms a while ago and reviewed it here. This is an extract:

Demise of the Soccer Moms has an intricate and tightly written plot centred on three main characters; women whose daughters play for the school soccer team. Each of them has baggage that underpins their actions so that, bizarre and irrational as they increasingly become, there is no point reached of inconsistent absurdity. They do what they do because they are what they are.

Yesterday, I finished Buried by Debt, this time fully aware before I began of how the seeming perfections of the characters’ lives would be unravelled, their insecurities slowly revealed through their internal dialogues so that each step they took – as infuriatingly stupid as it might seem – had a fully-fledged logic to it. It begins simply enough: an economic down-turn, credit maxed out in anticipation of a promotion that is delayed, and misplaced pride leading to cover-ups and lies. Again, I wanted to slap these people with their affluent and superficial lifestyles, their lack of personal depth, and their inability to see much beyond their own needs; and again I was convinced by the sound psychology of them. The outcome is avoidable and also inevitable although, being a noir, there’s no predicting those last scenes.

I have just begun The Suburban Abyss and now that I am fully trained in the Grant experience, I am flicking my kindle pages with enthusiastic anticipation of how Brian and the pit behind his house are going to impact on each other.


alone alt

Linda mines a very different seam of social realism which, like Cathryn’s, exists in a microcosm, set this time in the UK. These characters are middle England, middle class, middle aged people who, elsewhere, are often the focus of comedy but rarely sympathetic emotional dissection. There is nothing grandiose, the course of events is unpredictable, and the plot – if what happens can be described as such – concerns the picking through of convoluted and entangled relationships rather than a build to a genre conclusion.

Linda’s trilogy is about the same cast of characters and, rather than just watching them unravel, which they do, we also see them gaining strengths. The first book, Meeting Lydia, is set in the early days of the internet as the forty-somethings are just getting to grips with emails and Friends Reunited. There are flash-backs to schooldays and the novel follows the insecurities of a woman, Marianne, whose experience of bullying has left a dent in her confidence. The re-emergence of an old flame via the internet is the cause then of a great deal of self-analysis and a deconstruction of what, exactly, constitutes infidelity. I reviewed it here. This is an extract which says something about the narrative style:

To read Meeting Lydia is to sit in a comfy front room with the author, and listen while she tells you the story. Linda MacDonald is a raconteur, an ‘under-the-banyan-tree’, book-at-bedtime story teller, who conjures up complex images through a stream-of-consciousness narrative.

I also declared an interest: I have known Linda since we were at college together in 1975 and was party to Lydia’s gestation. I recognise the sources for some of the characters and I know where many of the situations originate. This is a disadvantage to me as a reader and certainly as a reviewer – I know more than other readers and I don’t know how much sense some of these things make to the people who come to the novels fresh. Probably quite a bit, unfettered as they are by personal context.

I enjoyed Lydia and went on then to read A Meeting of a Different Kind which is a standalone novel set in the same world but with different key characters; the originals having less prominence. Time has moved on, the internet has evolved, and the relationships of all the players are in a state of flux. Again, loyalties, marital conflicts, fidelity, and the uncertainties of social interpretation are key features, and again where the story ends up is less important than how it ends up there. If you are a man who doesn’t know how women think – this, like Lydia, is the book for you. If you are a woman unsure of how men think, ditto. And I should mention the menopause because it is almost a character in itself – driving the fears, flamboyances, and indiscretions of people who are, in all key respects, good folk trying to get on with life the best way possible.

This theme is maintained in Alone Alternative. We are up to date; the London Olympics, twitter, Facebook and a number of other contemporary references lock in the context, and Marianne is a post-menopausal fifty-something retiring from teaching and writing a novel. There is no obvious plot – this is about the people not an undercurrent of crime or mystery or even romance – and the outcome is always in doubt. With characters up to no good and threatening to wreak havoc, there is no settling back and enjoying the ride in anticipation of an eventual smooth resolution.

Unusually though there is a sense of the snake swallowing its own tail in that Marianne talks a lot about her novel, which is called ‘Lydia’ and also spends some time in discussions about it being fiction. If you like crossover TV – the sort where the cast of CSI turn up in an episode of LA Law – then you’ll like this multiple mirror effect and getting your head around the reflections. If you don’t, try to ignore it – the deeply observed psychology of the characters will see you through. Ditto the occasionally teachy environmental messages; that might be just me. The writing is unique and the insights well-founded – you won’t be wasting your time.

Two authors, two very different approaches to the same thing – the dissection of human nature through stream of consciousness introspection, and the kinds of analysis many of us get into when we are trying to understand someone else’s head without necessarily understanding our own.

‘Copied Right’

‘Something odd was happening. The air had been tingling for days; fizzing when he wafted his hand across his face.’  On Readwave now.

‘Dark brown voices, buttons and bows’ – Eight Days of Ether

Day 8 -2Eight Days of Ether: every day a new theme and only 24 hours to submit.

Day 8 – Song and Dance

Dark brown voices, buttons and bows. We’re in Jackson, me and Jude, for the show. I have a two-day beard and my feet hurt like hell. I sling them up on the table and lean back.

Oh but this was fun! Once I’d set myself the challenge of using song titles, music, band, or show titles to tell the story I was off checking lyrics. Would anyone remember the Kinks? Probably. The Hollies though – risky. There are 25 in there at least, some of which my subconscious contributed without telling me! I should make a list, see if it gets added to!  Here’s the link





This is my list, there may be more! Dark brown voices buttons and bows cheat-sheet


‘Daniel’s Level’ – Eight Days of Ether

Day 7-2Eight Days of Ether: every day a new theme and only 24 hours to submit.

Day 7 – Family

Daniel’s Level. ‘The army? Him?’ Jacqui is stunned. Sophie though, is intrigued. Steve doesn’t look army, he looks – gamey.

A little bit sci fi but with some fancy reality underpinning it – the US army really has been recruiting via online video games (MMOGs[1]). Virtual reality is being used in all sorts of ways – including treating soldiers for PTSD, and training doctors and paramedics in both basic and emergency medicine[2]. Here’s the link


[1] Massive Multiplayer Online Games. I put my typo in the story down to preemptive channelling of the final theme, Song and Dance!

[2] Imperial College London. Dave Taylor – a research colleague – is head of Virtual Worlds and Medical Media and if that isn’t a job title to die for, I don’t know what is! http://www3.imperial.ac.uk/newsandeventspggrp/imperialcollege/alumni/newssummary/news_22-4-2008-14-24-37


‘When you can’t go on’ – Eight Days of Ether

Day 6 -2Eight Days of Ether: every day a new theme and only 24 hours to submit.

Day 6 – Tragedy

When you can’t go on. Awards ceremony. Posh frock; pale peach …

A very cheap shot, this one! When the clear impetus was towards difficult human experiences, I only heard The Bee Gees[1]. It’s a 22 worder and, ladies, you’ll know what I’m saying! Here’s the link


[1] Tragedy – in case you’re so very, very young http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPcsMMEMbfw



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