Writing

Sickle and Reeves, Funeral Directors

Reader’s Digest has run a fun little flash-fiction competition for the past few years, asking people to write a story exactly 100 words long – no more, no less.

This was my crack at it:

Sickle and Reeves, Funeral Directors, directed the best funerals in town. And ‘directed’ was truly the word.

They were spectacular affairs, talked about for months after. Susie Bairns had fireworks and a close-up magician. Rupert Tippley had a bouncy castle to keep the kids busy while the adults learned to make cocktails. Everyone said it was what he would’ve wanted. (After all, it was cirrhosis of the liver.)

But Sickle and Reeves’ last funeral, before the closed sign went up, ruined their streak. It was a dull thing, closed casket, and Reeves brought the mood down with all his sobbing.

Needless to say I did not make the shortlist. Who knew people didn’t like absurdist stories about funeral directors…?

Writing

Attack of the killer plot bunnies

written by Mell Magment

I’ve been really struggling, the past few weeks, with an idea that will not leave me alone.

It’s the Michael Myers of storylines: relentless, always springing up when you least expect it, and bearing a creepy resemblance to William Shatner (bloated and not acting right).

And, like Michael Myers, it just can’t be killed. Every time I think I’ve gotten it out of my life for good, it comes back – usually when I’m babysitting or listening to John Carpenter’s music – and the hell starts all over again.

Writing

By any other name…

written by Mell Magment

I often struggle with names.

Putting together an odd-sounding, Harry Potter-esque name for a comedic piece is simple enough (I’m still trying to write a story worthy enough to house ‘Hester Cuppleditch’), but whenever I write a more serious story, I want the names to: a) be more realistic than ‘Hester Cuppleditch’, and b) have some deeper meaning.