We had a writers group meeting today. But there is bad news. Anne had said she can no longer chair/run the group and will be standing down from after the December meeting. There is talk of the new English Department taking over the running of the group, but it just won’t be the same.
Without the group I know I wouldn’t have carried on writing between my OU writing courses so I really am in Anne’s debt. Maybe that’s why I’ve agreed to help out with a little surprise project for her – more of that in December.
I’m afraid I cheated with the writer’s group homework. I’m 2 weeks into A363 and am writing almost every night. A little bit of a shock to the system. So rather than do the homework I used one of the activities that the OU had set us last week as something to read out. It’s always to good to get feedback on a piece.
The life history of Guillermo Brown
The church clock strikes eight, so those villages who are awake know without checking that it is six. A cock crows. A body lies across the doorstep of the church, a line of crumb-carrying ants marches across the fedora covering its face. There is a serene, momentary quiet after the chimes cease.
And so ended the life of Guillermo Brown, the most exciting thing to ever happen to him. Finding you’ve been poisoned by your house keeper is not the most pleasant thing, and to find it was with peanut butter filled sandwiches is even more distressing.
As he stood looking down at his former body he wondered what happened now. No dark hooded figure stood nearby waiting to whisk his soul away, and so he was left standing in the early dawn sunlight watching ants.
In this position all he could do was reflect back on his life and how he came to be lying dead on the doorstep of the church. He wasn’t even religious so it seemed a little unfair, but then he had found that life wasn’t fair.
Looking at the back of his head, he suddenly realised that his hair was way too long and topped with the fedora, that he had thought so stylish, was in fact quite silly.
This unsettled him. Now was not the time to be having style issues.
Stepping back from his body he found his foot passing through one of the solid old grave stones which sat near the path to the West Door.
Guillermo was not used to happenings such as these. His life had been filled with dull commutes to a regular job where he knew how to make the photocopier add numbers to pages of printing. A life filled with a needy mother who had died and been replaced by a tyrant of a house keeper.
In Guillermo’s world alcohol was something put in Christmas cakes, and tobacco if smoked at all should be in the form of a pipe. Drugs did not even register and girls were a completely different species to be studied from afar.
As the sun rose higher into the sky and the church rang the half hour, he wondered when he would be found. Today was Monday so no service, and he’d told no one where he was going. Mrs Evans seems to have no interest in where he went on his holidays, only in when he would want lunch. The reason for that was now obvious.
A large crow landed in one of the small round yew trees in the grave yard. He didn’t like the look it was giving his body, like someone eyeing up their breakfast, so he waved his arms at it. Other than it giving him a rather knowing look this had little effect.
The first paragraph was written by the OU and we had to carry on. All the exercise make good points in our writing and help to give us ideas for our Tutor Marked Assessments (TMAs). First one is in on 6th November and I’m starting to run out of time.
He has such a huge selection of photos – most of which can be seen on his flickr page that choosing the perfect ones for the flat was really hard.
