Showing posts with label I. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I. Show all posts

Friday, July 1, 2016

You. I. Us. Tour - guest post by Annalisa Crawford

You. I. Us. is a collection of vignettes, small scenes which hint at the story beneath.

Annalisa has taken that idea to another level, because she asked 15 bloggers to ask her one question each, creating small insights into her life and writing.


What is one element that every good short story needs and why? 

Hi Christine, great question, and one that I’ve re-answered several times—I’ve gone through strong central character, hook, killer first line… But actually I think that a good short needs a story. I’ve read a few—not many, thankfully—which are anecdotes or over-long jokes with punchlines. A short story should be crafted with the same care as a novel, because the reader deserves the same satisfaction that a novel provides.

Sometimes, writers think short stories are an easy option, or a stepping stone to novel writing. It can be a stepping-stone, but it’s definitely not easy.

The short length means that every word counts, there’s no room for deviation or tangents, and the ending has to make perfect sense—especially if it’s a twist ending that you’re attempting, all the elements should be in place so you’re not tricking the reader (similar to Chekhov’s gun, if it’s used in the third act, you need to show it in the first—I always think of it in the reverse to how he’s quoted). 

Because it’s so short, the reader only started reading the story a few minutes ago—they haven’t had time to forget that plot point you fudged and hoped no one would notice.



In You. I. Us., Annalisa Crawford captures everyday people during  poignant defining moments in their lives: An artist puts his heart into his latest sketch, an elderly couple endures scrutiny by a fellow diner, an ex-student attempts to make amends with a girl she bullied at school, a teenager holds vigil at his friend’s hospital bedside, long distance lovers promise complete devotion, a broken-hearted widow stares into the sea from the edge of a cliff where her husband died, a grieving son contacts the only person he can rely on in a moment of crisis, a group of middle-aged friends inspire each other to live remarkable lives.

Day after day, we make the same choices. But after reading You. I. Us., you’ll ask yourself, “What if we didn’t?”

Buy the book:



About the author
Annalisa Crawford lives in Cornwall UK, with a good supply of moorland and beaches to keep her inspired. She lives with her husband, two sons, a dog and a cat. Annalisa writes dark contemporary, character-driven stories. She has been winning competitions and publishing short stories in small press journals for many years, and is the author of Cat & The Dreamer and Our Beautiful Child.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Friday Five for April 10, 2015 plus Letter I


1. Last Friday, my son was hit by a rotten stomach virus. This week, it found a new host in me. I still feel like a zombie, but we're both doing better. Hopefully the weather will hold and be nice for the weekend.

2. It's that time again when I have to renew my passport. I hate having my picture taken. It always looks like a mug shot.

3. I haven't done much writing at all. I've watched several episodes of Castle, though! I'm almost done with season five.

4. Tomorrow we register my little guy for kindergarten. Wow. I'm so excited and panicking at the same time! It's like pre-release jitters.

5. Check out the Untethered Realms blog today for the letter I and a little teaser from Of Blood and Sorrow.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

A to Z Challenge 2013 - I is for Indiana

I'm posting snippets from a story for this year's Challenge.
If you'd like to read the whole tale, please start with A.

I IS FOR INDIANA

Danielle blushed when Erik smiled at her from across the bar. She waved and hoped the lighting was dim enough to hide the rosiness in her cheeks. It was ten years too late for her to be giggling like a boy crazy teenager, but one silly little laugh threatened to escape.

She managed to walk over to where he was seated with some sense of grace. Her stomach tightened as he stood to greet her. Erik wasn't only a great father, but a gentleman too. If all the single women in Indiana knew what a catch he was, they'd be flocking to his house.

This was the first time she'd seen him in jeans. His tailored suits gave him a trim figure, but the jeans, oh my. Danielle had to force her eyes to focus on his face.

Was she smiling too widely? Would he like her perfume? She needed a drink. What would he think if she drank beer form a bottle or snorted when she laughed?

She caught him dragging his gaze up too.

"Hi." At least she didn't lose her voice.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

A to Z Challenge - I is for Intelligence

This is part of an ongoing story for the Challenge.
If you're just joining me, please start with A is for Abby.

I IS FOR INTELLIGENCE

Abby returned to her loft with pizza in hand. She was about to toss down her satchel when she heard Demetrius. His voice was quiet and intense, talking about something going on in the old house at the end of the street. There were no houses on her street, only apartment buildings.

After a half minute more, she realized he was reading. Reading out loud.

Abby crept around the corner and peered into the loft. Demetrius was sitting in her window seat with the window wide open. Tawa was propped up across from him. He had the newest Burrows book in his hands. He paused in his reading and started to ask Tawa a question.

"You!" Abby gasped and stormed over to them, tossing the pizza onto the coffee table. "You can hear her. You've been making fun of me all this time for talking to myself and you can hear her!"

"Hey, darling. It's no reason to be mean to the pizza." Demetrius gave her that grin that infuriated her and made her stomach do flips at the same time.

If it's any consolation, I didn't know he could hear me either until yesterday. Tawa didn't sound very sympathetic. In fact, Abby was sure she sounded amused.

"Yesterday?" Abby growled and threw up her hands before pulling at her hair. "Why didn't you tell us? Do you realize how infuriating you are?"

"I didn't do it to annoy you, but it was an amusing game." Demetrius slipped out of the window seat and bent over to open the box, snagging a piece of pizza. "You never asked how much I knew about the Fearless. Well, the old tales say something about a spiritual guide for each warrior. In centuries past, the guide was wished into a sacred object - perhaps a statue or a symbol of one's faith."

I remember those days. I was in a statue of the Greek Goddess Artemis for a couple of generations. Tawa sighed wistfully.

"Yet your sacred object was a stuffed hippo." Demetrius chuckled as he took a bite, cheese stretching out. He used his tongue to skillfully reign it in.

"At least it's something I can carry around easily and not draw any attention. I think lugging around a statue would slow me down a bit." Abby stared at that tongue. She slammed her palms into her eyes and rubbed them.

We didn't go with our girls when they fought. That has been something new I've experienced with you, Tawa said. After being in the washer for the third time this week, I think I prefer being in an unmovable statue.

"Anyway," Demetrius continued. "As for being able to hear Tawa, I'm from a line that has some telepathic abilities. I don't have any active abilities, but my senses can pick up things on other wavelengths. I didn't say anything at first because I was trying to respect your relationship with your guide. I didn't want to intrude unless invited."

"So why did you?" Abby folded her arms.

"I got tired of listening to her whining about being stuck in the washer and took her out." Demetrius shrugged as he took a second bite.

I wasn't whining. Tawa sniffed.

"That I can believe," Abby said to Demetrius and picked up a piece of pizza for herself. "Okay, now we can all talk together. Anything in the book worthwhile?"

It's full of bad prose and self-entitled teens complaining their parents won't let them stay out past ten. Tawa snorted.

"As a guide for the Fearless, you have no insight into literature." Demetrius fetched the book from the window seat.

Yes, because I spend so much time with a book in my hands.

He ignored Tawa and held out the book to Abby. "Monsters praying on children. It's written simply, but speaks to the basest of fears. Great use of tension. Not graphic, but enough detail to be frightening. Leaves a good amount to the imagination." He raised a brow at that.

Abby stood motionless, pizza in hand. He knew what he was talking about. He knew literary techniques. No longer just a hot body, he had a keen mind. Nothing turned her on more than intelligence. She was so screwed.

"Did you hear me? It's triggering the imagination of its readers to realize their fears." Demetrius frowned slightly at Abby who still hadn't moved. He wiggled the book at her, waiting for her to take it.

Abby slowly reached up and took the book. Her hand fell heavily back to her side, the book bonking against her thigh. "Oh, I heard you."