Dec 22, 2013



A title too apt for this piece, scrolling through my unpublished list I legitimately wondered whether someone had accidentally written something on the wrong blog!  That strange breathless moment when you have no recollection of your own words, I was still in disbelief when I found the original file on my computer.

I hope you enjoy this, reading with what feels like fresh eyes I think this is beautiful, and still don't know how I wrote it.

Your whispered words hum across my lips, like 

a fervent promise locked in my heart, taunting in 

the way when you know true happiness is beyond your 

grasp, the eternally elusive.  Teardrops are caught 

in the wind, chilling rosy cheeks before they are 

cast to the ground.  You cannot see her eyes, or risk 

your soul to drown in their depths.  The layers of 

the veil protect the threads of ones heartbeat, 

holding it close from desperate hands.  As her lips 

quiver and lashes flutter out on the calling tundra, 

I whisper your words to her now.  And a smile breaks 

forth with more intensity than the sun, radiating a 

warmth that touches my own abandoned solitude until 

hers are not the only tears falling in the wind.

still reeling,
from sjp.

Nov 21, 2013

I'm With You

Because sometimes my dreams terrify me,

You were here last night, in the clouds of twilight.
I dreamt we were holding hands, and it scared me.
It scared me my mind would want that, when there are so many boundaries.
It scared me that it felt so comfortable.
So I woke up and ran away.
But you can never run far enough, and before I knew it we were walking, side by side down the dim lit street, surrounded by all those boundaries.
And all I could think of was
how easy it would be to place my hand in yours,
and run away.

with their promises.
from sjp

I'm With You - Grouplove

Nov 10, 2013




Cold water snaked tendrils down his chest, dripping from his face as he cupped his hands beneath the faucet once more, hoping to drown the remnants of a dream and find peace in the running water.  Staring at his reflection in the smeared glass above he let a bitter laugh breathe from his lips, even in the tangled mess he recognised himself, a wry smile escaping as if there was an unspoken agreement in his own eyes that he would never be able to give up the fight.

Shouts from locals shook him from his reverie, glancing out the window down to the canal he spied two boatmen battling with their poles for the right to pass.  This city was chaos, multi levelled shanties dancing upon each other in a maze of salvaged wrecks and tight canals.  Every year the waters rose people merely built higher until its depths were in a constant shadow under daylight.

Stooping to fish a shirt from the floor a far-off rumbling made him pause; sturdy engineering was not the forte of this place and whole blocks had been known to collapse, the only saviour usually being the close packed nature of the city.  An uneasy silence lent him to return to the window.  The boats were abandoned, bobbing violently in the murky canal while their captains clambered frantically up the fragmented foundations.  An unwanted thought raced through his mind; striding into the bedroom he grabbed the note from the bed.
Gone to markets. 
Closing his eyes a faded nightmare flashed through his mind, robes swirling in ancient waters, voices chanting darkness.

Had they finally caught up with them?

The horror of the idea rendered him speechless.  Surely it couldn't be possible, but already he sensed it; droplets clung to his hair, his veins electric with anticipation.  Looking out at the sea of shanties he watched the canal wane like the noon tide, air rushing through the passage leaving unearthly stillness behind it. 

Holding the note tight, Arroyo took a deep breath, you could not outrun the Bruinen.  Praying from the painful depths of his heart that she would be safe, he waited as the distant roar intensified, echoing down the corridor as a wall of water taller than sun bore down upon the city.  Screams rang out from every quarter as millions scrambled to escape the cleansing.

Word Count: 393

watching the ships roll in,
from sjp.

Nov 7, 2013

The Future

Should have been a Tuesday,

To be fair, I remembered about IWSG and even had a little thought ready to post... only I was a day early and then forgot on the actual day...

I've missed a few of these lately, mostly because I didn't want to be posting about how I didn't know where I stood every month.  I do hate to be repetitive.

I think it largely has to do with where my life was and now is, it always seems to follow the same cycle.  If your totally lost check out my last insecurities, polar opposites of worry.  But don't fret, I've found my stories again, well or at least am on the path to it, it's like the old days when I'm day dreaming about my WIP again.

I don't know if it's Jaq anymore; I think it's just me.  My stories and my words.

I think it all came down to Exhibition, new exciting characters that are so raw, it reminded me of all my other favourites.  It wasn't a BAM moment, or even a gradual change, it was just life.

Essentially, I don't know where I'm headed or what went wrong, but after all these "I don't know"s I'm still writing, and I have alot of unfinished fiction waiting to be fleshed out.

Go on and give me a challenge, let me know which has been your favourite on the poll, or if it's not there call for my head and comment who you've been missing.

posting soon I promise,

Oct 29, 2013



The vibrations in the air hit her like butterfly kisses, radiating across her skin, echoing against her heart like palpitations. A scent like spring teased her senses as she pictured the grass, the glaring morning sun warming a fitful breeze… For a second her breath hitched, her body startled as she fell from focus, landing hard against the mottled carpet. The open air smothered by damp and shadows. Scrunching up her face in disappointment she felt his hand on her shoulder, reassuring, grounding her to begin again. She would Transit, eventually.

Looking up into his clear eyes she felt the fluttering across her palms. Smiling at his surprise she released the insect, watching it rise through the dust motes suspended in the fading light.

Given the Chance - The Kite String Triangle

to dematerialise,
from sjp

Oct 26, 2013

Magna's Plea

Magna's Plea by Cherie Reich

A princess will rise and challenge Fate.
While her father, brothers, and people fight against the Kingdom of Apentha, tenacious eighteen-year-old Princess Magna can only watch the destruction of Amora, her besieged city and kingdom. Her mother, Queen Vyvian, has refused to allow her heir to join the fray.
But Magna won't take no for an answer. She seeks out an end of the war from Prince Cyrun of Apentha, their prisoner. If she can't persuade him toward peace, then Amora may fall.
This short story prequel includes a sneak peek of Reborn, Book One of The Fate Challenges, forthcoming May 2014.
YA Epic Fantasy 
The Fate Challenges #0.5 
A 5500-word Short Story  
Download this short story for free at Amazon / Nook / iTunes / Kobo / Smashwords / Goodreads

So pleased to have such a beautiful cover gracing my screen, Magna's Plea by Cherie Reich is a great read, adventure paced reading, from the first page you are thrown into the foray.  My only qualm with the short story is that I longed for every aspect to be expanded, it could have easily been a full scale epic in it's own right, however the excerpt of the up and coming Fate Challenges series is enough to convince that we won't be long in waiting for more inspiring words.  Definitely worth a download!

love a good story,
from sjp

Oct 21, 2013

Amazing Race

Have a query you’d like help with? Maybe a first line hook or a pitch you need critiqued? How about some help with your platform, online visibility or advice on how to get published?

From October 21st until October 27th, Writers Helping Writers is posting an open call for writers to celebrate the release of their Positive and Negative Thesaurus books. Fill out this FORM to request help with critiques, book visibility, social media sharing, blog diagnostics, advice and more.

An army of Amazing Racers are standing by (including myself) waiting to help with your submissions. How many people can we help in a week? There are also Celebrity Racers - amazing authors and editors who know their way around a first page, like the fantastic K.M. Weiland. Maybe one of them will pick your submission to help with!

Tune into Angela and Becca's site for a new giveaway each day of the week, all focusing on an important area of the business of writing.

pay it forward,
from sjp

Oct 14, 2013



"Mind, body and soul," he murmured enticing me closer.  "Do you think you could handle it?"

I tried to keep my eyes focused, but they seemed to waver of their own accord, my vision swaying in the low candle light as he danced around me, always at the edge of darkness.

"This world, the next, and the last..." he whispered urgently, darting away before I could latch onto the sound of his voice as he led me deeper.  My hands shook, desperate to find something solid, a voice at the back of my thoughts threatening to break into hysterics.  Taking a lighter from my jacket I fumbled frustratingly with the catch, the song of promises fading beneath the static in my head as I stared at my fragile fingers mindlessly.  I can't take it any more, the voice cries.  If I'm Pulled one more time it will destroy what is left of my sanity, and yet it's what I'm fighting for.

The sound of the catch igniting echoes like a clashing percussion, the flame hissing in the air as it leaps from my hands, the bright flame blinding my stunned eyes.  Spinning around I stumble in the darkness, panic setting my heart to a sprint as all senses scramble for navigation.  How long had I been walking?

The faintest wisp of cool air tickles down the back of my neck, pricking my nerves into full alertness as I turn around, raising my lone flame higher, muscles tensed.

For a cruel second it's Charlie standing there, and my chest is wrought with the sadness in his eyes.

Instead I am left shivering under a cold black stare, his hand outstretched with three identical die waiting poised in his palm, the markings morphing beneath the twisting light.  I ran from one monster into the arms of another, and am already drowning in his games.

"Do you trust fate?"

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High - The Arctic Monkeys
Come a Little Closer - Cage The Elephant
Tonight - Rufus
Melt - Chet Faker
Bygone - Volcano Choir

set sail,
from sjp.

Sep 7, 2013

Melody Calling

Part I - Exhinition
The life may leave my lungs,

Despair choked my chest with its bitter grip as I ran through the alley, tripping over my own unsteady footsteps, colliding against the brickwork as I swallowed each sob like cyanide.  Reaching a dead end I sank to my knees, welcoming the solid bitumen with my shaking hands, the blood stains falling like flaking rust.

I pulled the diamonds from my jacket, feeling their cold points needle my palm as I stared at them in disgust, Charlie's life reflected through their primed facets as nothing more than a faded crimson tint.

I could remember his breath on the back of my neck, his touch against my face, being replaced by the burning anger in my veins, the fear, the ignorant faces terrified, the chaos in the plaza.

The memory of not being able to save him.

"I'm sorry for your loss"

The air was forced from my lungs like an exorcism as the street blurred around me.  The diamonds were coated in new colour as I clenched my fists, preparing for the impact as I felt my body yanked into nothingness, a burst of dust as I was flung through the air to land rolling across a rooftop.  Stolen from the shadows to be thrust out into the light.

As soon as the ringing subsided I breathed life back into my lungs, trying to clear the spots from my eyes as I adjusted to the sudden distortion of my presence.

"That's the customary sentiment to make isn't it?"

Feigning light headedness I picked myself up, sliding a blade from my high tops with the slow movement.  Shielding my eyes against the setting sun, I stared straight through him, his words echoing in my mind, words coated in irony and disdainful amusement.

He said he can help us.

"Angel, I can understand if you need a moment," he said, turning his back and making a show of trying to clean a spot from his spectacles. "But I do need to finish this business up rather soon".

I don't trust him.

I couldn't save Charlie; but this man is the reason he's dead.  Gripping the knife with savage satisfaction I sprang into a run across the deserted rooftop, ready to plunge this steel straight through his empty heart.

Then I saw the broad vindictive smile reflecting in the dusk lit glass of his spectacles and stumbled.

Spinning around he caught me by the throat, forcing me to a standstill as he raised me to my toes, my hands fell limp, the blade and diamonds clattering to the concrete beside his forgotten glasses.

Holding my head high I ignored the pinch against my windpipe, staring out over the bleeding sky as the sun burned itself beyond the skyline.  It was almost peaceful.

Cajoling the precious stones into the air he chose the one most tainted by my living pain with his free hand, stepping to the edge of the rooftop to let it catch the last dying rays.

"I dearly missed that sparkle in your eyes Angel," he mused, collecting the diamonds into his jacket pocket.  "Such a shame we never saw eye to eye" he said pointedly, turning his full attention to me, chuckling at my attempts to avoid his gaze.

"That's very rude to ignore someone when they are speaking to you Adrianna" tightening his grip for emphasis to close off the last draft of oxygen.  "Didn't Charlie ever teach you better?" he taunted.

Feeling my lungs beginning to cave, my muscles cramping, I turned my gaze to his, seeing the nightmare he hid behind those antique spectacles, and it burned more painfully than any hatred, it was as though I could feel it tearing a hole through my soul.

Bringing me closer he placed those sneering lips next to my ear, his breaths a mockery of the needling pain in my chest crying out for life.  "Give my regards to the boy," he whispered, before casting me out into to the darkening sky.

To be continued...

but my heart will stay with you.
from sjp

Aug 27, 2013

Night Owl

All I hear are echoes,

Credit: SJP

Sunday night I wrote for the first time in months, a follow on from my last post Exhibition.

As soon as I have internet again you will all be the first to read it.

Sincerely yours,

Jun 17, 2013


Visual Dare #24

“Somebody help him please!”

I struggled to keep the screeching desperation from my voice, but as each stranger passed panic tightened its grip. The station was chaos, suits swerving erratically around us until everything blurred to a broiling mass, their apathy was chilling.

“Please Charlie come back to me, just come back.” I whispered into his chest, needing it to rise, needing to rest upon his heartbeat and melt into that warmth.  Instead his life was threatening to spill through my fingers, and I felt what little stability I had left crumble as he became dead weight in my arms.

I watched the passers-by, looking into each of their eyes with such pleading until my gaze crossed one man's that tore my heart. Standing at the edge of the crowd, lips pursed with that slight sneer he seemed to draw pride on, he made a show of turning to observe the great brass clock face behind him before disappearing into the sea of grey.

Staring upward into the muted light I felt the pulse leave my fingertips. All at once the tension mounted, the pressure was too much. Falling back I cried out my anguish, releasing the tenuous hold on control and pressing shaking hands to my face, smothering the hot tears with blood soaked sleeves.

I had run out of time.

As the crimson spread from his body they cried with me. Their terror rang off the walls in astounding volume, the crowd exploding like sheep who have found the wolf among them, as each mindless creature saw the life surge from his body.

I waited beside him, my tears chasing his blood across the stone; he shouldn't be alone in this.

how a rewrite transforms,
from sjp.

Sleepwalking - Bring Me The Horizon
Can You Feel My Heart - Bring Me The Horizon
Deathbed - Bring Me The Horizon

Jun 5, 2013


Insecure Writers Support Group
June Edition

Everything is a whirlwind and I find life pressing in on me from all sides, both the good and the bad.  The adventure and the rejection.  That place in the back of my mind has become so frustratingly elusive, even in the drifts of sleep where the zombies come out to play.

Not being able to daydream has taken its toll; hours are consumed by traffic and computers and offices and meetings.  I can't let myself think I have lost Jaq forever, I fear I'll just give up.  I fear I passed my time, the chance is gone, those stories will never live.  I'm scared I won't see my characters and their worlds again.

But then I hear a song like this, and I can imagine the forest, the rattling percussion as you dance through, always on the tips of your toes as the excitement beats across your chest and you can almost hear the huh-huh-huh-huh of jumping breaths gallivanting around like some tribal expedition.

I just need to find that flow, cement in that schedule, enforce some down time, change it up until something fits, make that challenge that will fire the soul.  I need to fight for my stories.  I need to keep writing.

There never was any going back.

from sjp.

Got any helpful tidbits?  Or just want to vibe with the song?  Leave a comment!
If you have any Insecurities share via the IWSG link.

May 28, 2013


Before they collect dust,
delightful appreciation for the mentions.

Very Inspiring Blog Award:

Random Facts
1.  I love my doggies, even the fat needy one.
2.  Tried to dye my hair darker the other week, came out lighter...
3.  Worried about withdrawal symptoms with the last major music festival of the season behind us.
4.  I really love my car, abhorrent safety rating and all.

Best Moment Award:

 Serious thanks are in order for Miss Sania, and to all the committed readers who appreciate my attempts at capturing some epic story telling.  That warm fuzzy feeling when you slog it out to get that idea into words and people cry wonder (or even just a "...I like the picture?") is pretty damn inspiring.  Thanks for the support, because stories shouldn't go unnoticed, and we should keep discovering new ones ;)

Liebster Blog Award:

What's your worst fear?   Dying, ever since I was little.

If you had one wish, what would it be?   To have the motivation to accomplish what I want.

Think fast. Forest or waterfall?   Forrest, climbing and jumping through giant woods and dirt, that was my Sunday evening :P

Can you explain the concept of concepts?   A concept is something so incompletely attached to your stream of consciousness that your heart trembles at the mere thought of making such a connection, and your mind is static with the possibilities... or something.

How good are you at keeping a secret?   This is my secret...

Do you believe in déjà vu?   Yes, because I have experienced so many multi layered déjà vu's it is more complex than Inception.

Check out Embracing Dawn's post for the proper rules...


Handshake - Two Door Cinema Club
Heavy Feet - Local Natives
Seconds - Ghost Loft
Your Life Your Call - Junip
Human Spring - Buchanan
Evil Friends - Portugal. The Man
Luck Now - Big Scary
Wave - Crystal Fighters
Follow Baby - Peace
Battleships - Bernard Fanning

happy tuesday,
from sjp.

May 19, 2013


Flight of Fancy

The constant chorus of howling souls, calling out their misery to a keening ocean of loss, a rising pitch as the ship would crest the contemptuous sea to once again fall at the mercy of the tides.

A soundless cry burst from parched lips as the foaming waves crashed over her; cold water shocking her into awake-fullness as it relentlessly sought her out, flooding through the cracks to greedily claim her cramped space.

Thumping desperately at the velvet lined prison until the antique locks tore open she filled her lungs with salty air.  Blinking painfully against the harsh sun she stumbled from the leather box, gazing across the abandoned shore littered with empty luggage.

Shivering in the coastal breeze she stared closely at the forsaken cases, a rising sense of fear washing over her as she spun around, frantically tracing the soft imprints in the sand fading beneath the oceans tide.

Where were the others?

from sjp

Have a taste of moonshine

May 13, 2013


Visual Dare #19

The fresh tide dragged at his heels, cold rivulets snaking down his arms as he desperately hefted the splintering frame from the sodden shore.  The reflection of his image in the untouched glass strangled his heart with such grief as he stared into haggard eyes, wild with desperation and infected with hope.

Wait for me inside okay sweetheart?  I’ll come get you when it’s safe…

His throat burned at the memory, of his naivety that cost him everything, at what he would sacrifice to see those beautiful blue eyes staring back at him once again.  Leaning his forehead against the glass, he pictured her face surrounded by the beauty of the isles, unable to withhold the tears that rolled down its surface.

My dearest Anabelle.

A tremor echoed through the wood, humming beneath his fingertips as clouds darkened the mirrored horizon.  His reflection had faded, the glass fogging along the lines of his despair until a small hand print became visible.

word count: 161

All is not lost,
from sjp

The Oil Slick - Frightened Rabbit

May 5, 2013


I lost Jaq.

I haven't heard from those characters I was once so close too in almost a month.  Feels like more.

I'm not worried.  Or confident.

I'm just enjoying a new road and taking things as they come.

A new chapter has consumed my life, as they tend to do, and there is much less flexibility afforded to space out and traipse through day dreams lit by inspiration.

But this is life, and I am beginning to value weekends much more highly.

Especially Sundays.  Particularly night.

So to any concerned citizens, lynch mobs, or entirely disinterested parties I am sending a much overdue notice for morale.

I will find her again.

I will strive to explore every new band, fill my mind with sound, continue to conquer the revelations of photography, every evocative composure of imagination until she cant help but follow the story.

Because there are just too many amazing things waiting to inspire.

we will return,
from sjp.

Late March, Death March /
Swim Until You Can't See Land - Frightened Rabbit

Apr 3, 2013

Keeping Up

Insecure Writers Support Group

The other month, a friend and confidant of mine mentioned I might have a problem.  Obviously I denied it, I didn't want it to be true, but I cannot help but see her point.

The gist of it was that although I have some really great ideas, I seem to be getting distracted by a new exciting idea before I actually start developing it properly.

And as I had been in the middle of explaining my latest exciting idea, a small part of me realised she was right.

Which made me a little... sad?  Because I hate that feeling, when you look back on that great new idea you started and wonder where all the excitement went.  When did it stop consuming all your thought?  The world is there, the premise, the characters, you even know bits of the plot.

So where did the urgency go?

The initial rush may have dissipated somewhat, but I still love my ideas, and for me multitasking works.  I never have to force myself to write for a story I'm not feeling at that moment.  I write for the ones that have my attention.

They all get a little love :)

Jaq xx

Mar 29, 2013


Visual Dare #13

The presence of the fog sent chills down his spine as he waded between the pylons, flinching as the rotten wood flaked away at his touch.  His heart had not paused from its frantic beat since he first entered the calm mist; waiting for it to rise and consume him like it had so many before, ready to vanish at the slightest disturbance.  Yet a small part ignored the terror of what he was trying to do, and revelled in the salty foam that swirled around him, splashing at his waist.  He could almost feel its icy cold caress, taste the salt as it coated his skin, and wished to sit above, leaning out from the bridge to gaze across an ocean broiling with colour and life.  Instead he gripped the next post and pushed on; praying he was right and the other side held more than just death.

word count: 150

ghost boy,
Jaq xx

Mar 20, 2013

Ally in Wonderland

learning to edit,

The richly scented leaves brushed past her in a flood of green stained shadow, tangled limbs of foliage catching at her, urging her to remain, only the warm comforting strength that gripped her hand kept her running forward.  Every root she stumbled over, each whisper that sent her muscles tight with fear, Will was there to pull her through.  Finally they erupted from the barrier of undergrowth, her momentum carrying her forward into his arms, a smile alighting his face as he stared down at her, eyes wide in happiness.

"You followed" he whispered, a sense of awe clear in his voice as he held her briefly.

"You asked if I would," she answered breathlessly, trying to focus on her surroundings, realising she could not see much farther than the clearing they had emerged upon in the darkness.  "But, where are we?" she exclaimed in confusion.

"Where your adventure begins," he laughed, nodding his head to where a small stone path began.  She crossed the clearing tentatively, gazing up to the canopy of vines intermingling above, the faintest outline of the dim heavens filtering through with each breath of wind.  She looked to his face dappled with flashes of ivory light, taking courage in his confidence.

As she disappeared through the shadows he spied the golden eyes that had stalked her footsteps, setting his jaw grimly he returned its stare.  "Let her be my deliverance".

on watch,
Jaq xx

Mar 10, 2013


Five Sentence Fiction

The evening rises around me, an incoming breeze cooling the days heat as everything begins to fade into darkness.  But I still burn; my legs ache from running but I can't stop, not until I am far enough.  A stitch tears at my insides, though not as much as the need to scream grips my chest until my throat tightens with tears.  I want to yell in frustration, fight all those who cause this hurt until they understand.  Instead it all just falls to a whisper, and I keep running into the obscurity of night.

little shadow,
Jaq xx

perfectionist note: needs some flesh...

Mar 6, 2013


Insecure Writers Support Group

Do you know what I like about the Insecure Writers Support Group?  Aside from the generous support of course.

It's that every time that first Wednesday rolls around and I think I have been free of anything seriously concerning, I get that little epiphany moment and see that problem I didn't realise I had been avoiding all month.

The most obvious has been my lack of a schedule or any visible productivity, and I may confess I have stumbled recently with my whole 'write a little everyday' thing.  It wasn't anything major that drove me away, just life events really.  An overseas trip and an unconscious need for a little escapism that has had me devouring books.  Even now the reader in me is demanding more.

Is it okay to take a break and indulge the reader?  I think it is :)

But here's to not letting the writer off the hook, I had a routine and like exercising I need to stay on it.  I need to actually commit, like an appointment, keep writing everyday, start publishing once a week.

What do you want to see more of?

to optimistic goal setting,
Jaq xx

Around Here - Thelma Plum
Giant Tortoise - Pond
Brighter Than Gold - The Cat Empire

Feb 16, 2013


from 5.11.12
some good was written that day.

"Would you jump?"


"But would you?"  He stared at me, trying to focus on my features, concentrating on the thoughts flowing through my mind like the gentle tides below.

"N-o."  I reiterated stubbornly, flicking salt laden hair from my face and looking off towards the horizon where the sun burned its intense white light.

"I would," he continued, seemingly satisfied with what he saw in my answer.  "I would jump into the open sky and sail into the heavens, flying over exotic lands like tapestries."  He mused, closing his eyes and spreading his arms out casually.

With a mixture of amusement and concern I did the same, feeling the coastal winds brush heartily past my tanning limbs, intertwining my fingers in the freshness of the air.

"That's what they say its like, exotic things, they call them tapestries."  An edge coming into his voice, as though he felt the need to convince me of the worlds wonders on the other side.  "They say there's all these smells and tastes and textures that are just beyond exotic that your mind spins out."  I laugh at his developing nonsense and crack my eyes open to catch the mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Haven't you ever wanted to ride an elephant, or stalk a lion, or climb a temple, or..." he suddenly whispered, "Meet a prince?"  He chuckled at my look of annoyance as I shoved him sideways, our feet flailing against the open skies as we fell to our backs against the jetty tousling and jeering exotic insults.

the reminiscence of my musings,
Jaq xx

Feb 6, 2013

The Week

Insecure Writer's Support Group


I don't know if this is an insecurity so much as something that could help me bring down a door, only to wonder if I really should go down that corridor...

But then I don't even know if it's that either, I'm too apprehensive to think of a better metaphor today.

Okay, so I have steadily kept up my progress as touted in a IWSG post a couple of months ago, and after reading a post about small goals (100 words a day) that somehow resonated with me, I unconsciously made the decision to write a little for my WIP a day.

I was pretty surprised to say the least about what has come from this.  While I only expected musings and random dialogue, I discovered an... enhanced beginning, which worried me.  Was I going to change the beginning and cause implications for the rest of the plot?

But upon a Loss vs Gain analysis I realised not everything has to change; cultivating these scenes could actually be the catalyst I didn't realise I was looking for.

So not really a total insecurity, more of an 'assessing the jump and waiting for bystanders to agree that it seems legit' post today.

to be unexpected,
from sjp

The Week - Loon Lake
Holy Roller - Thao and The Get Down Stay Downs
Fitzpleasure - alt j

Feb 2, 2013


Visual Dare #5


Her soft voice echoed through the dim, that divine timbre the purest bliss to his soul. He raised hopeless eyes, the sight of her face rising from the cold darkness leaving him winded, his heart struggling to find its place. He tried to call out to her, though to say what his mind could not know, as she faded through the bleak night.

“”  His hoarse voice creaked from parched lips. Hanging his head in disgust he wished to beg a thousand words of mercy just to glimpse her face once more through this anguish.

A breath lingered in his ear, he could almost hear her trying to suppress the laughter in her voice as her beauty rose like a spectre before him, eclipsing the shadows. He fell into her smile, knowing he would suffer any eternity to reach her again, for without her life was absent.

word count: 147

previous: Lost In the Light
defy the darkness,
Jaq xx

Jan 19, 2013

18 Things

A blogfest to encourage reflection and maybe a little recklessness, Jamie Ayres has challenged us to record our own 18 Things bucket list for her upcoming book;

  1. Buy my own house, with my own garden and furniture and memories.
  2. Go backpacking again, probably Asia this time.
  3. Work and live in London.
  4. Always read, and always enjoy it.
  5. Set aside time for artistic endeavours, sketching, painting, mosaics.
  6. Be a photographer, travel to amazing places, get those amazing shots that never seem to work on a digital camera.
  7. Always find my way back to those true mates, you know who.
  8. Write that WIP, because I love reading what there is of it, and I never want it to stop.
  9. Tell myself I can.
  10. Keep trying to find that peace.
  11. Think about opening up.  But not too much.  Maybe just a little.
  12. Drive a Porsche 911 GT3 or Turbo, black with a red spoiler.
  13. See The Grates live, because Patience is an amazing front woman.
  14. Never stop loving Triple J.
  15. Make my career worth it.
  16. Actually learn how to play guitar and piano, because I am not a reliable teacher.
  17. Buy a motorbike.
  18. Dont kill my family, and maybe run less.  Or more.

Check out her book, other lists, and sign up yourself.
And keep up what I have so far,
I wouldnt change it.
from sjp

Jan 18, 2013


How could it be that its come to this
I really thought that it would last.

I don't know where to start; my heart feels trapped, hyperventilating like a kid with asthma, while my fingers search for some preoccupation, tugging at my hair as it twists and knots, feeling it pull at my scalp.  I dangle my legs and watch them sway in the dusk air, his words still ringing in my ears.  A smile almost turns the corner of my mouth at the memory, but it falls to a sneer soon enough as I feel the warm tears drip from my chin.

Staring at your shoes like you know everything, a face like some contrite bitch.

I just want to forget the past.

then maybe it will forget me,
Jaq xx

Jan 7, 2013



The thundering of shells erupts through the night, sprinkling cursed sods of dirt tainted with the blood of hundreds into the air like a geyser.  The cold seeps through the skin as the heavens spew forth a monsoon as merciless as the enemy, to hide the tears of boys as their heroic dreams are drowned.  Yet all I can hear is that infernal scratching, that constant ever-present torturous scratching as I cradle this demonic metal box beside me.  Its contents was classified yet I know there is something living within its confines, some spawn of hell raking the inside as I clutch it close, trying to force my body into the trench walls.  Not even the bursting of machine gun fire that tears my heart from its breast bone can distract me from this frightening foreboding that taunts me.  The eternal scratching echoes against me, like a rusted razor dragging across my skin, distorting my mind like a twitch.  I pray for my commander to relieve me of this insanity bearing burden, but I know that would be the kindest of miracles as his quarters lay in the next trench, and I can still see smoke rising from its smouldering ruin.  So I am left in this tumultuous purgatory, to breathe the burning sulfur of men with only this beastly box as my companion.

Jaq xx

Jan 2, 2013


Apologies for such an extensive absence,
but this Wednesday surely snuck up on me...

Well during such a hiatus I have not put much thought to the stressful undercurrents that accompany writing, and therefore have not overly succumbed to any insecurities in particular.  However I have been wondering.  While I am experiencing favourable productivity in the way of brainstorming and working beyond the line of flash fiction as aforementioned, will I ever be able to do so on such a phenomenal scale as required for a novel?

I am forever in awe of you all, every day finds a new success story with a post on self publishing or completing a final draft or scoring an agent.  Yet I find that horizon to be so far in the distance I cannot imagine actually approaching it in any near future.

So promptly I open this thought for pondering before I rush off to more adventure; am I fooling myself with the possibility of a future in writing, or am I holding myself back?

ps: I promise to make it to other entries by next week but I really must run :)

ever the underachiever,
from sjp.
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