⌗WEP-IWSG Challenge, Wednesday 14th October Grave Mistake

 Welcome to my blog, access to all posts is FREE, this site is NOT ad. supported, so block them, the cookies are powered directly by Blogger or Wordpress, so nothing I can do about those. Thank You.

Quote of the Day : 
L'humanité qui devrait avoir 6000 ans d'expérience, retombe en enfance à chaque génération.  Tristan Bernard (French playwright and novelist, 1866-1947)

Man who should have accumulated 6000 years of experience, falls back into childhood at every new generation.

It's time for another Write Edit Publish Challenge of 2020, writing on a word and picture prompt with the Insecure Writers' Support Group.
If you'd like to know more about WEP and IWSG,  or join the Challenge go here and here


IWSG in the 100 best blogging sites



The WEP site

The joint WEP-IWSG Challenge 2020

This Month

Grave Mistake , a narrative poem, following on from Long Shadow in August. read here 

on Wordpress here

Grave Mistake

Leaves tugged on slashing branches,

flew over the stones and settled on

her lace-up boots. She bowed her head,

a tear trickled down her nose, joined

the rivulets of rain cruising the crease

between cheek and mouth.

Burnt grass from August heat was bright

green, now, in the damp, cool air.

She glanced behind her slumped

shoulder towards a crisp crackle

to her left. A long shadow blocked 

out the failing light.

The felt hat covered head advanced

to her father's last resting place.

His long cloak swished, his boots

sloshed in sodden mud. His mouth

whispered in the wind:

" It was a grave mistake, what your

banker father did. I was only the arm

executing." She jerked her head,

saw the curved scar, " Who are you ?"

The man fell silent,

as though he had never spoken; eyed

the stone. To the Memory of an Honest, 

Loving father and Husband.

" Honest , he was not; thought he could

double-cross the boss: grave mistake,

grave mistake." 

She felt a pang of anger mingle with

the pain in her breast. Her fist clenched

upwards, hammered down on his chest:

" What are you talking about ?"

" The truth, Milady, the truth. No escape,

no reproof."

She screamed in his dark face,

she trampled the soil. He caught

her wrists and shushed her brow

against his heart. He was a good man, 

a loving grandfather, she thought;

but where did all the money come from ?

©susanbauryrouchard

thank you for reading

Mozart  Zauberflöte here

                Dom Juan here

                Requiem here

Les Sablettes, La Seyne sur Mer

L' Esterel

la Promenade des Anglais, Nice

Calanques, Cassis

⌗IWSG-October 7th 2020 Writing, a passion but still hard work

 Welcome to another monthly post for the Insecure Writer's Support Group.

If you would like to know more about this very encouraging and supportive writing group

sign-up here

Anyone can join, budding writer, published or unpublished, writer of poetry, short stories, novels, essays ... So give it a go and visit the other members , read their contributions and don't hesitate to leave comments.

Every month, we announce a question that members can answer in their IWSG Day post. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say.

Remember, the question is optional!!! 

Co-Hosts this month:

Jemima Pett, Beth Camp, Beverly Stowe McClure, and Gwen Gardner!

OPTIONAL QUESTION: When you think of the term working writer, what does that look like to you? What do you think it is supposed to look like? Do you see yourself as a working writer or aspiring or hobbyist, and if latter two, what does that look like?

Dear writing friends, colleagues,

Writing for me is a passion. An activity I cannot not perform. It is always a pleasure, sometimes painful but ultimately, always hard work when it comes to editing and getting published.

Am I rewarded for all my efforts ?

Rarely.

A part from praise and a few pounds from magazines who actually pay, it's foremost personal satisfaction and inspiration that keep me going.

Workshops and Blogging help, but no way I'll ever teach creative writing to pay my way ....

Having trained speakers of other tongues in the English and French languages, I've had enough of transmitting technique...

Now , it is time to offer my art. If I earn from writing, great; if I don't tough luck. I refuse to write solely to satisfy commercial demands. Writing, from my perspective, is not a business.

It is my secret garden. If you care to join me and wander in it, you are welcome. My only hope is to bring pleasure through words, a pause to reflect, and maybe, just maybe, a shift in point of view.

Thanks for reading.

Society Eddie Vedder

watch and listen here

Snow Angus and Julia Stone

here