Tag Archives: creative

Coming Soon – Part 2

A couple of weeks ago some colleagues and I were filming a one minute ‘trailer’ for a non-existent television show. The post with my character’s picture is here – Coming Soon

This is one of the other characters as played by Callie, a colleague.

Photography: Andrew Robson
Model: Carel (Callie) Louw
Copyright: 2011

Strawberry – what my Daddy taught me

Continued from 12th and 13th December.
I am already halfway to my feet before I catch myself. This is none of my business. I sit down again. The trucker looks straight at me with icy eyes and cocks his head back; a challenge.
I hold his gaze for a moment, then look down at the menu. Its words swirl meaninglessly.
My Daddy taught me that to back down is cowardly. But my Daddy isn’t here. And he can’t remember how many times I saw, from the back seat of his car, his lights punched out in the parking lots of bars. Back then I’d started to plan how I would’ve handled those situations differently. This is one of those situations.
“Here we go,” she says sliding a cup of steaming coffee onto the table. “You having anything else?”
“A piece of that chocolate cake I saw when I came in?” I point towards the door.
Her space fills with stillness. I glance up. Her pen is aimed at a little white writing block she holds in front of her face. I can see her eyes looking over the top of the writing block. Looking right at me. I get that sense of being strangled again, of my blood heating up and running so fast through my brain that my mind feels light and dizzy.
“Sure,” she says putting the pen and paper into the opening of her apron. “Would you like some cream with that?”

Strawberry – trucker trouble

Continued from yesterday…
“Good morning, Sir. Have you been helped yet?” the drawl of her smoky voice has a history of poverty.
I shake my head, unwilling to trust my own voice. It feels like someone is strangling me. I am faint. My blood is boiling in my head.
“Hang on a sec for a menu, okay?” she says, then walks toward the till.
I am weakened and thrilled by the sight of her pert ass jiggle from side to side underneath her skirt. The backs of her nude, white legs, formless as pencils and so confident in their youthful stride, captivate me.
She whisks a menu from behind the counter and starts back. I avoid her eyes by looking elsewhere, only to see the trucker lick chocolate covered fingers with salacious delight as she passes by him. I bite my lip.
“Here we go,” she says placing the menu in front of me with a graceful sweep that brings with it a waft of her deodorant tainted sweat. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“Yes.” It’s my voice. Sounds so foreign. Still, I avoid looking at her.
She walks off again. I peek.
“Hey, Honey,” the trucker grumbles, stopping her with a hand as she is just about past his booth.
She gasps. Even the kids in the background fall silent at the sound.
“How ‘bout another one just like that,” the trucker says and stabs his empty plate with a blunt, fat finger.
I am already halfway to my feet before I catch myself. This is none of my business. I sit down again. The trucker looks straight at me with icy eyes and cocks his head back; a challenge.

Bus Ride – Inspiration Monday

Inspiration Monday: stronger than fate is the theme over at BeKindReWrite this week. I chose the prompt Why is she smiling?. Be sure to check out the amazing writers over there and join in once you feel inspired.

Bus Ride
Why is she smiling? What does she know that I don’t?
Why is she smiling? There is that unspoken rule that you don’t look other people in the eye when you’re on public transportation, yet whenever each fluctuation of golden orange light cast from the streetlamps overhead peaks, I see her obstinate gaze remains steadfast on me. Why is she smiling? We’re riding the last bus out to the suburbs, though I live on the opposite side of town. There are only four stops left and six people remain on board. She will get out at the last stop. So will I, so why is she smiling? Is that even a smile? Or is it a sneer? The rolling cascades of dark hair framing her face must be the envy of every woman she meets. Her eyes are dark chocolate, full of bitter sweetness. Blue jeans and a sweatshirt two sizes too large, black and emblazoned with a large white A, make it impossible to tell with any certainty what the precise symmetry of her stature is.
The bus stops. She is washed in light. She gets up and walks towards me. Why is she smiling? Her laptop bumps the side of my face as she passes. Purposeful? I don’t know. Is she forcing my hand? I don’t know. This is not her stop. I dare not turn to look at her. I take a breath. I rise from my seat and make for the open door on the side of the vehicle. In the moment I turn onto the steps, I realise she is seated to my left. I glance at her on the way out of the bus and readjust my handbag. Why is she smiling?

50k

(Badge courtesy of fellow nanoteamindy member Dave Farmer)

50220 words
17 days
+- 62.5 hours of total writing
+- 3.5 hours of writing a day (I have a full-time job)

I am extremely proud of my achievement.
I have completed my first ever attempt at National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), an international challenge for writers around the globe to write 50 000 words or more in 30 days.
This is day 17 of the challenge. The total word count for all participants stands at 1 710 527 045. That’s right, over one-and-a-half billion words written in less than 17 full days.
My story is not yet complete. I will continue to write until it is finished. Then, of course, comes the rewrite and numerous edits. Or not. I am as of yet undecided if I will tidy this piece up and try sell it as a novel. Time will tell.

I must thank each nanoteamindy member for their support. And to all of those of you who have been leaving comments and likes on my blog this month. I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude to all of you, because you truly did keep me motivated in my darkest hours. And there were more than a few of those!

I suspect I am the only Namibian participant this year.  I may be the only Namibian participant ever.  I will try to find out more.

For now, I am tired. But very, very happy.

Self-Portrait XIIVX

Day 16 of NaNoWriMo. My total word count is on 44425.
Thank you to all of those of you who leave comments of support here – I do see them and will get to responding soon. Your comments help make a difference!!!

Photography – Andrew Robson
Model – Andrew Robson
Artwork – Jost Kirsten
Copyright – Andrew Robson 2008