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 dictate what follows and the narrative just farts out. For some reason I’ve been unable to finish my longer stories, they’ve been left hanging waiting for my return. Hopefully that’ll happen.
ajm crawford.com is an amalgamation site lovingly drafted from two previous sites “tbaoo” and “my silly writing”. The style of “tbaoo” was deliberately lower case which explains why some content here remains in that format. Furthermore, now that the first attempt of collating my short stories has been formatted, SmashWords, distributed my outpourings to a number of ebook outlets, mine can be purchased for the uniquely wonderful price of “99 cents”. You can ensure my survival … here
My short stories & other things are basically fiction ( unless directly quoted ), some based on reasonably true events, while others emerge from my ludicrous imagination. I’m not a serial killer. If you have feedback, I’d love to hear it and hopefully learn from it, while if you have criticism, I’ll learn from that too.
Here’s a taste … There once was a man called Andrew. He ran and he ran and he kept on running. Not really running from, or to anything, just running for its own sake. He was like that Forest Gump character, on a mission to discover his own inner self, his worn out feet and his ever decreasing frame.
He lost about half a kilo each day and ended up being given clothes and various supplies by strangers as he went running through their little country towns. Smaller towns and smaller clothes. The last of Australia’s hope in these tiny towns, some of them tidy, but all of them full of dismay as they died a slow death. Nearly every young person once reaching a certain age, just up and left. Businesses closed, people died and weren’t replaced. Pubs had no happy hour and the local butcher had long since gone along with the post office and the bank. In fact the owners of the bank and post office fell in love and just disappeared.