Breakfast with a spider

Picking tomatoes for breakfast, the two vines I have are producing nicely. Even the little mini plants I grew from seeds halfway through the summer have tiny fruit.

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Appears the monster spider that has taken over my lavender bush is having an equally delicious, if not nightmare inducing brekkie…

 

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Although on the same plant, a few stalks over, two jewel beetles were happily humping in the morning sun, so…circle of life, I guess? I just wanted to end this on a picture of Buprestidae doin’ it.

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Rainy afternoon

It’s been sprinkling/heavy misting all bloody day, and as the kid is not a fan of the great outdoors when water is involved, we’ve been trapped inside. Ah well, it at least looks pretty out there.

 

shea wong rain droplets on spider web


#FlashFiction in #London: “Reap What You Sow”

shea wong Da had me picking berries since I could walk; said picking from under leaves kept me in the shade, so I didn’t get any more brown. Da loved teaching me about fruit. He showed me which pieces were ready to jump off the vine, and which ones needed to set awhile. We laughed while we worked, till one day I repeated something Mum had told a friend when she thought I was asleep.  “The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice”.  Da got real quiet.   That was the last day I was his helper.  #microstories #flashfiction reap what you sow

 

Da had me picking berries since I could walk; said picking from under leaves kept me in the shade, so I didn’t get any more brown. Da loved teaching me about fruit. He showed me which pieces were ready to jump off the vine, and which ones needed to set awhile. We laughed while we worked, till one day I repeated something Mum had told a friend when she thought I was asleep.

“The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice”.

Da got real quiet.


That was the last day I was his helper.

#microstories #flashfiction


I’d give anything for a garden of blue flowers right now.

I know she’s missing a pinkie, and a bit of fringe (bangs), and she’s got a wee chip in her paint on the other side of her temple, but when I saw her sitting all alone on the £1 bric-a-brac shelf at the charity shop in Camden, I knew I had to take her home,

 

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(For ya’ll who aren’t fans of the comic book, this is Death, from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. Go purchase it sight unseen, I’ll wait. No, go on, you’ll thank me later.)

 

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The blue flowers reference is an exceedingly long story that ends with a lovely framed page of a comic - this page, in fact – in storage somewhere in the States.

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Peachy keen.


Won (well, placed) my first writing contest!

You all know I like to write (badly). Well, I placed (runner up) in a writing contest for The Moth, a group/event that is just ridiculously cool. The Moth is an evening of storytelling – one person, one mic, no notes, just their true story. That’s it. It’s theatre in it’s most pure form…you share, you laugh, you touch, you are touched. Brilliant. Anyways, The Moth FINALLY came to the UK this summer, and the Guardian ran a writing competition – winner gets to perform at the show, runners up get to attend, everyone gets printed in the Guardian in a few weeks.

 

Bloody chuffed to bits about it. Show is tonight, I’ll let you know when the story is printed.


#flashfiction in #London: “Mightier Than The Sword”.

shea wong #microstories #flashfiction mightier than the sword

 

“You’re sure you want to rent this pen?”

It had taken her decades to find this store and afford the cost, but the writing world whispered that using these pens would produce a bestseller.

Her savings poured onto the counter, taken and inspected in turn by the elderly shopkeeper. When the agreed amount was counted, he turned toward her, blade drawn. 

“I-I don’t under-I don’t have any more money-“

“Oh, you’ve paid for the pen, dear.” The metal glinted. “Now, you pay for the ink.”

 

 

#microstories #flashfiction


#FlashFiction in #London: “Pub Life”

shea wong #flashfiction #microstories pub life

 

*tick….

 

 

 

…tock*

They stare at the bags of crisps hanging on the wall, hands clutching watered down drinks.

They do this every Saturday night, one hour of pub time before their programs start. 

Tradition. 

He coughs, a wet grumble in his lungs. 

She darts her eyes at him, slits by the time they land on his face.

*tick…

He shifts in his seat.

“Have I ever told you ‘bout the time –“

“YES.”

*…tock*. 

 



#microstories

 

explanation as to what this all is here


Check in and a story

So, I have two massive exams in the next 6 weeks, and no time to do…anything.  Such is life. Assuming I pass Corporate Finance, life will get much easier in October – two small classes, then a year of working on, then defending, my dissertation. Then…real world! Again! It’s been so long since I’ve lived 9-5, I look forward to it, but am afraid. So…yea.

 

The kid is good – he’s working through a cold right now (the whole house is), so he’s currently watching the Cbeebies Prom for the 3rd time this morning. Keeps his spirits up. He loves to draw with my fountain pens in old notebooks while I work on studies. I (barely) wince when I think of the fountain pens he’s handed back to me sans cap (two are currently still MIA).

shea wong homeschooling

 

My continual compulsion with all things old and lovely continues with an eBay pickup up some gorgeous in-box quill pen nibs (box marked 1943 from Paris – they were being churned out, war be damned!) and a lovely charity shop pick up of an old Chanel clutch. Needs serious leather conditioning, but lovely.

shea wong chanel clutch

 

 

 

So all of July I set a challenge for myself (it was actually for 90 days, but I’ll explain that in a bit) to write a 500 character, not word, character story inspired on the spot by whatever picture I had taken in London. The rules I set for myself were simple: No preset stories, the pics had to be taken in or about London, and post a new one every day. I set the 500 character challenge because that forces brevity (and hopefully wit!), and the app I was using, Dayre, has a 500 character limit. Unfortunately, Dayre doesn’t allow you to update from your desktop, only mobile, so when my mobile was giving me issues early in August, I was b0rked. Rather than fuss about trying to play catch up, I’m just jumping back in on the app, but reposting the old ones here, as…well, I’m fucking busy, and don’t really have the time to do much else. Like I said, it’ll be better in October (fingers crossed). So, here’s the first story, entitled ‘Women’s Work’.

 

 

Women’s Work

shea wong womens work

She scanned the room, knowing he’d be wearing his wedding ring. She glanced down at the card, then ripped it in pieces and placed it in the nearest discarded drink. No trail. Rules are rules.

Gliding through the throng, her eyes finally focused on their goal. He looked the same; that made her job easier, at least. Her posture changed as she emerged, a lucid mask settling on her face.

“Ah, there she is!” he flashed a smile, the guests parting. “Have you all met my w-wife?” 

#microstories


Why I hate blogging. 2

The kid and I spent the morning at the park, and when we came home I noticed a bit of an anomaly on the header above my blog page:

shea wong I hate blogging

My blog isn’t terribly popular – I don’t do ‘what I wore’ or ‘here is my kid’ photo posts, and I’m not big into recipes, etc. I tend to write about boring stuff like mental health and journalism, or birth trauma, or writing fiction. This stuff isn’t ‘hot’, but I like it, so I write about it. And while I average maybe only 150-200 hits a day, its fine for me – people check it out, or they don’t. So to see 362 hits in one hour was a bit…odd.

So I looked at the dashboard, and it appears a post I slapped up about a year ago is popular on Pinterest today. It’s about farting. THAT’S ALL IT IS ABOUT. And apparently it’s worth the vast majority of the hits today.

shea wong I hate blogging 2

Now, I understand we as a society have the attention spans of mayflies. And I understand that graphics are easier to digest than weird hard words. And I even understand that in a world where bad stuff seems to bombard us at every turn that a bit of fluff and escapism is necessary.

I just don’t want to be a part of that. At all.

It kills me that a post describing a fart as a strangled balloon animal is getting 350x more views today than a serious post about childrens’ online privacy. It kills me that the Hugos were yesterday, celebrating some of the best and brightest in writing, and those same writers will see their blogs dwarfed by what someone wore or ate that day. It just…kills me.

Bah. Anyways, maybe the fart chart made someone laugh today, and I suppose we could all use a laugh (feel free to check out howtobeadad.com for more funnies). And maybe everyone already knows about childhood privacy, which is why that post is so poorly read.

Maybe.

 

ETA: In the amount of time it took me to write this, the fart post hit 800 hits, and it’s only 2 pm. Ugh.