K.E. Skedgell

T here was a thread on a writing forum I frequent that asked others if they can picture their characters, and the OP stated that they have a hard time doing so. Many replied that they do not see their characters, or can only envision a few aspects of their characters, such as the color of their hair, or physique of the character's body, or their sex, and what not. I answered that I could indeed picture my characters and that I have drawn them from memory many times, although the drawings don't always come out like I want them to. The majority of the respondents said that it didn't matter if they could see their characters, what was important was what the characters said or did in the story. The reader in their mind's eye will picture them as they saw them anyway, so a few modest details was all that was needed. I believe this to be true. I do it all the time. I like to be given a few details of a character and be allowed to see them how I see them. Some writers ev...

I had been working on a different story for the month of April but struggled to get it down. It was giving me fits and I was worrying that I would not be able to finish it by the end of the month (you'd think a story under 1000 words wouldn't be so much trouble). Then along came the idea for this story which almost wrote itself. I may have to start over on the other one and hopefully have it figured out in time for May. This story is a bit different than from what I usually write, in both style and voice, and overall theme. It's still within the realm of fantasy, but instead of having a darker theme, this one has a bit of whimsy to it and a bit of a middle grade voice. At 940 words, here's my FF story for April (and a song called Two Trees by Einaudi you can listen to while you read):   Two Trees a story of the ent By K.E. Skedgell    There lived in the forest two trees. That's what they would have you believe, anyway, for they were ents, and ...

T he month of March has come to its close, which means another piece of short fiction from yours truly. This flash fiction piece was inspired by the Scottish/Irish/ Faroese myth of the selkie . The selkie is considered a sea fairy that for most of its existence lives in the open water in its seal form. Occasionally they come to shore and remove their seal skins, revealing their inner form of that of a beautiful woman or a handsome man. Depending on the area, stories of the selkie can differ, but they are generally romantic tragedies. At 963 words, I present you my flash fiction piece for March: Ethan A story of the selkie by K.E. Skedgell    The ice cold sea thundered upon the shore. The selkie's shoulder throbbed, the sand beneath him soaked in his blood. Weak from the orca bite, he lay unable to remove his seal skin wrapped around his legs.   A human voice. High in tone. A female. He opened his sand-caked eyes to a blurred vision of a hand touching his ...

E cho .... echo ...... echo ........ Yeah, the blog has been pretty dead, but I'm hoping to liven it up a bit. Last month I came up with an idea to publish a flash fiction piece at the end of every month. I decided to start with February since the story I wrote wasn't quite ready by the time the end of January came around. You would think a flash fiction story wouldn't take long to write, but I am slow and a perfectionist. Two strikes against me. I've made this a challenge for myself to get the creative wheels moving in my noggin. I figured, I can write a 1000 word or less story for the challenge once a month, can't I? I better, but knowing me... I'll probably need a swift kick in the hiney to keep up with it. Darn depression anyway. At 735 words, here's FF story of the month number one: The Thirteenth Year a story of the strige by K.E. Skedgell “You are brave, Ariadne.” Momma pushed the last pin into the knot in Ariadne's hair. “My b...

N ope, not a chance. I'm not popular enough to have gotten enough votes to win, but at least writing the story for the Gaelsong contest was good practice. So now I will share my entry with you all: Betty by K.E. Skedgell     Every Halloween, Betty took delight in watching the neighborhood children dressed in costumes go door to door for treats. And every year she hoped at least one child would stop at hers. From her parlor window, she watched a young bee begin to waddle up her sidewalk, but the bee's mother grabbed hold of their arm and said, “No, not here. This is the home of that old witch.” Betty sighed and her heart sank as all the children passed by her lighted porch. Another year without handing out candied apples to even one child. Every year she said, “Why do I bother?” She looked about her home to her favorite things: her collection of owl statues, the crystal balls she used to read fortunes from, now gathering dust, her books of Shakespeare and Poe, a...

...of sorts. It's called the Samhain Visions Cover Story Contest where you write a story, poem, or essay about the photo on the cover of Gaelsong's catalog. So I wrote a short story (the name of it is "Betty") and I think it's an okay little story. I need more votes though to win the big prize (hint hint) since the stories are voted on by your peers. Hence, it doesn't really matter how good the story is, or how well it's written, just as long as you can get enough people to vote for your story. Anyway, the voting runs until the 29th of October and you can vote on a story once a day every day until the the voting ends. I'm just looking to be somewhere near the top, I guess, and not dead last. I have ten votes as of writing this. Hope I get more. In other news... My progression on my Lake One Gothic romance novel, or novella, or whatever it'll be, is coming along slowly but surely. I have over 12k words written, some of which I'm sure ...

N ow, this is going to sound like I'm making up excuses, and maybe it really is, but I think I came to a conclusion as to why I'm having so much trouble writing this year as opposed to previous years, even when I was going through a spell of depression. The reason--my family. Now, I love my family, and it's not them personally that is making it hard for me to get in the writing spirit again. The problem is that there is never a time when I have the house to myself. Never. There is always someone here in this house, whereas when I lived with my ex there were numerous times I had the house to myself, and that's when I got most of my writing done. When he was in the house I had a hard time concentrating on my work. He could be very quiet and still; yet, it was like the light shut off on my imagination until he went to bed. When he was gone and I had the house all to my very lonesome, I could turn on some music, light some candles, you know, set up an atmosphere, and h...