It's true that life resembles fiction more than fiction resembles life. If I wrote about certain co-incidences or experiences, an agent may comment that it was a little unbelievable.
Take for example one day when I took our two spaniels for a walk on the paddock. Our Springer, Brook, as usual only had one thought in mind - retrieving the ball which I was throwing for her. Harlyn our Brittany spaniel, was busy tree-watching for any slight movement. A bird would be good, a squirrel would make her day! To her delight she locked eyes with a squirrel and so started a long stand off. No amount of bribery from me with a pocket full of treats would budge her. Eventually, I think the squirrel got bored and decided to make a leap for it. As it leap from the canopy of one tree to the next, it fell - onto the upturned face of Harlyn! She fell to the floor, the squirrel scampered off and Harlyn stood up and looked at me as if to say 'did that really happen?' The thing is, only me and a slightly over-weight red and white dog were witnesses to the drama. And although she swore me to secrecy over her embarressment, I thought it would be a good story to demonstrate just how crazy reality can be.
Great news! I received an email yesterday from a literary agent asking to read my full manuscript. Fantastic! I've worked on Blake, my antagonist, and hopefully he'll show a nicer side to his character.
I've also entered another competition. Describe a winter storm in 200 words. It's not a story, but a moment in time.
Mauve clouds bruised the bi-polar skies, now grumbling miserably having been bright and sunny an hour earlier. Skeletal canopies lurched to and fro to the wind's egotistical demands, hushing bird song. Slowly at first, raindrops dimpled puddles like a rash. Tip tap on the dustbin lids.
A grey curtain of rain closed over the village, muting colours and beating a faster rhythm. Pewter skies unleashed a deluge , staining fences a shade darker and painting a glistening patina on pavements. Rain lashed against windows and over-flowed from gutters, splashing onto the tarmac below. Down pipes frothed and gurgled. Bulimic drains spewed leaves and debris into the road, unashamed and unrepentant. As the wind whisked up shrivelled leaves and prised roof tiles from their fixings, icy marbles played a deafening drum beat on car bonnets. Clattering. Rattling.
White-forked tongues licked the sky as the winter storm hit a crescendo. The clouds grumbled in reply as weak limbs were torn from scarred trees and scattered across the village green. As if shocked by its destruction, the wind sighed. The rain slowed to a gentle drizzle as a pale shaft of sunlight hinted at a smile from behind the clouds.