A terribly small number of people, namely one, asked how or where I get the ideas for my short stories. Well dear “interested” reader, I don’t really know. When the mood or weather conditions suit I’ll sit at the computer and open a blank page. The first words or two then dictate what follows and the narrative just farts out.
Note … this is fiction but snippets have been based on reasonably true events and others dredged out of my swamp like imagination. For example, I’m not a psychopathic mass murdering serial killer.
ajm crawford.com is an amalgamation site lovingly drafted from tbaoo and my silly writing. The style of tbaoo was deliberately lower case which will explain why some content remains in this format. Furthermore .. now that my first attempt / sample of my short stories has been formatted correctly and with the help of SmashWords, it has been distributed to those fine outlets that market ebooks … mine can be purchased ( or sampled ) for the uniquely wonderful price of “99 cents” you can invest in the future of modern entertainment, here
Here’s a sample, and you can see a list of “recent stories” below on the left side:
A tremendously small problem was bashing about in the boot ……. Any who – the small problem wouldn’t be quiet. It just bashed, crashed and smashed itself about. Dave wondered how he’d get it to stop. The problem was wondering how it would stop as well.
Dave was a mindless worker bee at the local transport department but he’d had enough of the mindless nature of his existence. He wore a snappy corporate outfit to work each day. He felt proud enough of his appearance to launch a number of different hairstyles so he could land on the best one. Nothing was too much trouble, but his budget was not enough to fulfill the “too much trouble” perspective. Today’s problem wasn’t his choice of haircut though, it was a much larger, real life and warmer problem. It was alive, or at least it was when it went in. more
Swashbuckling sexy rants aside, while roaming about in his box like domicile, Simon seriously sought company to fulfill his need for serious companionship. He searched high and low and in between on a number of online sites, with different approaches to the obvious selection criteria, Sites that offered a world of opportunities, with snazzy and sometimes sexy photographs, while actually providing none. An overabundance of delectable opportunities if you were a fair person of the fairer sex. The sites were overloaded with overloaded young men keen to unload their overloaded’ness. The fairer sex was able to greet and meet their needs at will. This reminded Simon of the paddocks long since closed. Sydney’s lockout laws had seen to that. more
And yes more …
Ross is up to something different….. something more than sitting. The train at that time of day was always heaving, rolling, jumping and pumping along full of office workers and those who’d gone to rip them off during the day, all these saddened folks were heading to where they went. To their home, local pub or club, partners house or whorehouse, all sorts of outlets and pleasures were sought and quite often satisfied. Mothers with pride expecting their offspring and offspring without, hiding from their mothers. The train was an anthropological minefield of excess, oddness and excitement. Ross sat, waited and watched as the crowd went about their way. Past him as it always was. Racing past and not noticing his ever so subtle increasing unease. The day would come he thought that they couldn’t help but notice. Or know about it. more
If you’ve some feedback, I’d love to hear it and hopefully learn from it, while if you have criticism, I’d love to learn from that as well. A huge cheery thanks in advance – alan.