I’m starting off today at my publishers’, Inspired Quill, with a piece on being an older debut novelist. Tomorrow I’ll be having a virtual chat with award-winning novelist, Carys Bray, just over a year after she answered my questions here on annethology. On Wednesday, I’m talking transformations at The Oak Wheel, courtesy of Jeff Martin (who’s running a series on Inspired Quill authors). And then on Thursday, publication day, I’m in two places at once, sharing my experience of writing about “the awkward character” with Sacha Black, instigator of the Bloggers’ Bash, and answering questions put to me by bookworm Sonya Alford, at A Lover of Books. Do follow me as much as you’re able but it’s a gruelling schedule and I don’t expect you to read every word. I aim to update the links as I go but you can keep track at your own pace via my blog tour page.
This leads me to the latest flash fiction prompt from Charli Mills, which I’ve somewhat neglected of late. Left breathless (although still amazingly eloquent) by the death of her closest friend, Charli challenges us to write a 99-word story on that very theme. My contribution is an alternative version of a scene from Sugar and Snails:
The slap of the water stole my breath away, the thin sheet useless against the cold. I tried to fight, but they were stronger. As they pushed my head below the surface, the impulse to breathe came back to me; coughing and spluttering, they hauled me from the bath.
My mother had said to keep my eyes on the statue of The Virgin but, in my panic, I squeezed them shut. Dropping the sheet and shivering, still damp, into my clothes, I wondered if that meant I’d jinxed it, if I’d lost my chance of a miracle at Lourdes.
Thank you for reading.