Editorial Blogging

Some of you may have noticed a story that I posted last night is now missing. While I enjoyed writing the story, and after re-reading it I feel that it was fairly good compared to some of my others, I have removed it. I suppose that I should offer an explaination for this.
This blog isn't meant to be a place where I post my own personal thoughts, even if they are in the form of creative fiction. It is a blog for me to experiment with writing styles and try new things relating to writing. I have no issues with the ideas presented in the story, but I am slightly uncomfortable posting them on the blog.
While I will continue to write stories like the one posted, as they are great to write, I won't be posting them online.

Anyway, I will probably be taking a break from blogging for the next month or so, due to uni work and a few writing competitions coming up.

For anybody who might have missed last night's story, I've written another one now to replace it. I look forward to more writing experiments after uni is done. Stay tuned!


A Good Read
Tim Harvey


Fred stared long and hard at his bookcase. His eyes drifted over the spine of each novel, his head cocked at an uncomfortable angle to read the titles. Each book had been lovingly consumed countless times, and Fred was ready to pick up another one, falling easily through the pages and into somebody else's story.
There was a dull agony growing in Fred's stomach as he re-read the titles of his books again and again. He felt himself frowning at the realisation that he had no happy books. Sure, his collection of horror novels had a few funny moments. His range of detective thrillers always made him smile. He even got most of the jokes in the few classics that he displayed proudly on his shelf. But there were no happy novels.
'Shit,' Fred muttered as he scanned the rows of books one last time.
After finally being laid off from a job that he hated, and collecting his redundancy cheque, Fred was looking forward to a few weeks of pure nothingness. He had paid all his bills for the month, stocked his fridge with food, and even made arrangements for a new job that he would start next month.
It literally was the holiday that Fred had been looking forward to for the last three years. But now he couldn't find a damned book that he wanted to read.
'Shit, shit, shit,' Fred muttered. He was crouched on his hands and knees, blowing dust off of the books on the bottom shelf of the case.
Fred stood and sighed. His plan to remain in the house until at least Friday was already out of the question. There was no alternative, Fred was going shopping.

The mall was always crowded, and Fred hated crowds. He shuffled through the groups of young mothers pushing their babies around aimlessly. The greasy flocks of school kids that seemed to congregate on any available perch eyed him with apathy. Fred walked faster, making his way to the book store.
Once inside, Fred felt a lot calmer. He placed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and strutted through the aisles, perusing the countless books for sale. Surely he would be able to find a happy book here, or all places. On his third lap of the store, Fred noticed a falter in his strut. He felt his shoulders had drooped slightly. He didn't know where the happy books were kept.
'Shit,' Fred muttered. He heard a gasp from behind him and saw one of the young mothers with her baby. The tiny baby eyed him with a smirk as the mother stood shocked.
'Sorry,' Fred mumbled back to the mother. She turned to leave and Fred smirked back at the baby.
'I don't know what you're laughing at, you can't even read,' Fred addressed the baby, once he was safely a few aisles out of earshot.
Fred decided that he would never know which of these books were the sort of happy, feel-good reads that he wanted just by staring at the titles. He had to to ask someone. A young woman stood stacking books just an aisle over from where Fred was browsing and he made his way around to ask.
'Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me out,' Fred said in his most polite tone.
'Sure,' the woman said with a smile, 'What are you after?'
'I was wondering where you kept the happy books,' Fred said with a smile.
The girl frowned, 'What's a “happy book”?'
'I was hoping you could tell me,' Fred said awkwardly.
'Like a book with a happy ending?' The woman asked with a smile.
'Something like that. Or, a book that's happy all the way through.'
The girl let out a quiet laugh, 'Okay well I can suggest a few titles. Follow me.' She led Fred through the aisles and pointed out books that sounded like they would fit with what he was looking for. Fred took a few off the shelf and thanked the woman, who went back to her work.
The blurbs of the books all sounded cheery, but they were not the types of books that Fred would normally read. There were no detectives, no ghosts, and no action. Fred felt himself frown with disappointment. He sighed and picked the best sounding book, placing the rest back on the shelves.
Fred paid for his book and made his way back through the mall.

Once he was home, Fred made himself a sandwich and sat in his chair. He flicked through the book, and while it was certainly a happy story, it just didn't spark his imagination. Each page took longer and longer to read, and when Fred finally got up to get himself a drink, and clean his plate, he didn't feel like sitting down again.
Fred stood in his lounge, sipping his lemonade and looking out of the front window. There was nothing wrong with the book. It made him smile, but it was just so boring. It needed more action, more suspense. When the main character got into an argument with his wife, they instantly kissed and everything was better.
If the main character was a detective, it would be much better. Fred realised that it would also help the plot if perhaps the house was haunted. Catching himself daydreaming with a lazy smile on his face, Fred knew what he had to do.
He pulled out his old laptop computer and blew a sheet of dust off of the lid. The thing booted up with an unspectacular slowness and Fred waited patiently. He had never written anything before in his life, but he had read enough to know what made him happy.
When the document writer finally opened up, Fred began to type. After each sentence, he would read back what he had written and smile. It was slow going, each good sentence was followed by a terrible one.
'Shit,' Fred would mutter as he pressed the backspace key, erasing his lousy prose. He found himself letting out short chuckles with each sentence that had a good sound to it. His pace seemed to be two steps forward and one step back. But it was still progress.
'Shit, shit, shit,' Fred muttered as he erased a particularly horrible sentence.

By the end of his impromptu holiday, Fred had written one chapter of the book that he wanted to read. It wasn't at all what he had thought a happy book should be. It had blood and gore, and back-stabbing villains. His main character, a detective, battled evil corporations and supernatural demons. He also battled alcoholism, an addiction to smoking, a rough divorce, and a cranky by-the-book boss who was always on his case. Fred laughed at the absurdity of his overly-clichéd hero and found himself reading his chapter over and over again.
He wanted to know more, he wanted to see where his hero would go next. Fred had to know how his lead would break out of the latest cliffhanger and save the day.
When he started his new job, Fred eagerly counted the hours until he could go home and write more. He found his bookshelf had a light layer of dust over every book, but he didn't mind. Fred had found something more interesting than those old stories. Something much more exciting. He had finally found a book that he wanted to read.