Accidental Flash Fiction By Genius' #1

I'm looking through the afternoon registers, having a quick spy on who's here and who's not. I'm not nosey, really, but I do occasionally like to be prepared and if I know that a difficult student is absent then I can relax.

If they're still here I can start heating up the pokers.

Anyway, I'm looking through the registers as I said and came across a comment left regarding one of my students. He's marked in as absent, a Non-Authorised absence (tut tut) but there is a little note which you can read if you hover the cursor over the kids name.

This note read thus:

"Acute sickness and diarrhoea. Allegedly.

***(Teacher) was on way to work this morning and spotted him in camouflage gear. He waved."

I'll be honest here, that note tells this kid's story far more effectively than I could...

Things That I Shouldn't Be Doing...

#1 Pointlessly Arranging My Piles of Marking.

Obviously this marking lark isn't going to be happening now is it? I've got it all. It's right here ready and waiting and organised and sorted alphabetically and by class and by assessment piece and even, for the older ones, by predicted grade.

And yes. I have indeed done all of these things just to waste time.

#2 Texting my colleagues with Pub Invitations in preparation for the Parent's Evening taking place in... um... an hour and a half...

#3 Talking to my Monkey Mints

But look, c'mon. How can you have them sat in front of you and NOT hold conversations with them? They're banana flavoured mints, you just don't meet that sort of thing everyday, they're even made with 'Yellow #5'.

How cool are they? I mean really.



#4 Putting money in my trouser pocket. Cos it's got holes in. This is getting quite expensive...

#5 Writing my novel. It is not, I suspect what my school issue laptop is for. Nor is it how I should be using my PPA time. I think that what I should be doing is trying to find out what PPA means, that way I might have a decent chance of using it correctly.

Or at least a chance pretending I am anyway...

So, I won't tag people because, as you can see, I'm pretty much snowed under. Instead if you too want to confess to 5 things you shouldn't be doing then leave me a comment and let me come see and feel less guilty...

Much love yo!

Reasons To Be Cheerful. Yes. That's Right. I Can Do That On Occasion...

I know, of course, that I'm basically quite a grumpy soul. Well. Not grumpy perhaps, flippant may be a better term. Maybe cynical. I dunno. You'd have to ask around. Vicious, maybe. Viscous, occasionally. Viscount, almost never, not that keen on dark chocolate. Vicarious, yeah, sounds reasonable.



Cheerful?



Nah, seems unlikely really. 'Specially on a Monday. 'Specially when the car failed the MOT. 'Specially when we've run out of coffee. 'Specially since it's snowing. Again.



So, it came as surprise to be tagged and asked, nay, told, that I had to list ten things that make me cheerful. Ten? Ten things? Surely there aren't ten cheerful things in the whole world. Unless of course you count boobs as two things and I can have both 'peace' and 'quiet'.



Still. I've been asked and so I'm going to give it a go.



(Oh. And since I've used the word 'boobs' that means that you'll be back I know. And you'll still be disappointed so, you know, jog on.)



Ten Things That Bring Happiness To Me.



(... pauses... a long, miserable exhalation...)



(... a final sip of the now gone coffee...)

Ok.

Number one, two and three are dead easy:

1. My Geet Mint PR Guru
2. The fact that I can still find a little time, most days, to write.
3. My Disco Kettle

But from here on it's getting a bit tricky...

I suppose number 4 could be Catface, the hairiest beastie in all of the house. (Especially since my brother is slowly balding...)
Oh, so number 5 can be: I'm not balding. I don't think...

Hmmm...

6. Slightly worrying this but, actually, tidying and cleaning do actually make me cheerful. Or at least the end result does. The actual cleaning and tidying is something I loathe. Except for when I get to clear my desk. That I enjoy.
7. Hearing from distant peoples. It's nice, innit, when you open your emails and someone is just saying "Hi." S'much better than the viagra offers I keep getting. No matter how good value they may be...
8. Crisps.
9. Crisps in Sandwiches.

and, finally:

10. Being published. I know, sounds like I'm a bit full of myself but, you know, sometimes I forget. then I remember. Then I grin.

And sometimes, when I'm not feeling so sure about this whole thing I have a look at my very first post. Cos it's nice to remember that feeling. That first rush of excitement and fear and pride that comes with have your work liked by someone you've never met...

Ok. Well. That's all turned into a bit of a reminisce hasn't it? Good. S'always good to think back fondly on stuff I reckon. Right now for example I'm fondly recalling the biscuit I had with my coffee. I was quite delicious...

I'm meant to tag 10 people now I think. 10? Really? I don't know 10 people. I'm grumpy remember, this does not breed friendships. not Double Figure Friendships anyway...

But, I will tag a few peoples, mainly the ones that Jamieson didn't already bagsie.

My Geet Mint PR Guru

Stephen Schieber ... Who's name I may have just spelt wrong... Sorry...

Sue Guiney

Carrie Etter

and finally, B. Although I'd understand entirely if she felt that this particular tag isn't really something she could do right now...

Workshops!

Reet then kids,

I'm offering an invitation.

The geet lurvely peoples at Northumbria Library Services are letting spend (almost) the whole day in their libraries running writing workshops.

I know.

I'm impressed too.

So, if anyone is free on the 17th Feb and fancy a free look out, some workshopping, writing and (w)rapping* then come see.

It's free.

So it costs nothing.

And it's a whopping TWO hours of writerly goodness.

With Coffee **

S0, it's Berwick Library in the morning 11-1pm and then Hexham Library on the evening 7 - 9pm.

There might even be pints afterward...

*(w)rapping entirely optional and most likely not actually part of the course.

** Maybe. I'm hoping so, or I'll die, but I'm not entirely sure...

Pondering...

I've been having a right nice old ponder over the last few weeks.

Right nice. Been pondering all over the place.

Pondered at Work, pondered at Otherwork. Pondered at home. Pondered in the shower. Also cleaned myself in the shower. Then pondered some more. I even had a little ponder in the car and at one point had a ponder before napping. I dreamed about pondering, obviously.

And all this pondering, really, is all about me. I've not been thinking great thoughts. Not even average ones to be honest. In fact most of them are a bit tame and unimaginative.

I'm not doing enough writing.

That's the long and short of it. I'm not doing enough writing and that upsets me. Now, it's no ones fault that I'm not writing except my own. I'm the one to blame here.

Nevertheless though, it's still a quandary.

Stephen wrote a while ago about a similar Time O' Great Pondering and he got me thinking (not pondering, as such, more of a consider).

He got me thinking about Patronage.

Now patronising I can do. I'm a teacher, it comes natural.

But what I really need is Patronage...

That would be cool.

Some rich landed gentry type wanting to get all cultural and so ... you know... supporting me. A bit like parents, only richer and with no obligation to like them/buy them Mother's Day or Father's Day gifts.

How great would it be? All of us hopeful writers and aspiring artists all been scooped up by one big happy money slapping gang of pretendy nobility...

And I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm not greedy.

Really I'm not. And I'm not stupid, I'll be a bargain basement Cultural Collectible. I know this, and I'm ok with it.

I'm not expecting a a fancy city flat or an idyllic country cottage. I can do without a remote log cabin or the summer house by the river.

I can even cope without my own chef. Or butler. Really, I can. I'm willing to sacrifice that.

I'll be happy in the servants quarters, broadband connection allowing of course.

I'll fulfil my duties. I'll be glad to wander drunkenly at parties upsetting Lord Whatshisface and Lady Thingummyjob. I'll allow the gossip of the society pages. I'll even tweak my output to offer a suggestion of sympathy with my Patrons political opinions.

See? I'm not greedy. I'll work hard. I'll be good, or not, depending on what is required.

Really really.

So... Any rich potential patrons out there, drop me a comment eh? Lets see what can be arranged...

Reasons Why I'm Great (Don't Worry, Should Be A Short Post This One. Possibly It'll Be Even Shorter Than The Title...)

Ah-ahem,

Reasons why I am geet mint, how.

By Nicholas Jones, age 27 and a bit.

#1 Cos other people tell me I am.
#2 Cos I'm a bit full of mesel
#3 Cos I have a Disco Kettle and a Desk Henry.

There you go. Told you it was a short one. However, in case you're not convinced I'll expand a little bit. But only a little bit. I don't want to sound like I'm bragging.

#1 Cos Other People Tell Me I Am

I'm really quite chuffed with this one. Really really massively chuffed actually. It's always nice to hear good feedback about your writing or to hear people talking excitedly or emphatically or, in many cases I'll admit, disgustedly-but-still-sort-of-complimentary about 9987. Always. So feel free. Whenever you want to. I mean, there's a comments box at the bottom there, so... if you want to chip in... you know.

But, more impressive even than that is the fact that I won Book of the Year. Oh yes. The geet kick ass cool Jamieson Wolf rated 9987 The Bestest Most Mint Book Of The Year, Even Better Than Stephen King* which, obviously, I was pretty pleased with.

There is something special about fellow authors saying nice things I think, it means that even the Not So Good Comments are easier to take. In short, it gives a little extra confidence to shrug and remind myself that, really, I don't want to make everyone happy. It would make me feel dull.

So, geet muchos cheers to Jamieson, he even had the foresight to make his announcement on my birthday so extra special specialness.

#2 Cos I'm Geet Full Of Mesel

It's true, I'm all full up of mesel and the bits that make mesel up. All full.

#3 Cos I Have A Disco Kettle And A Desk Henry

Surely this doesn't need explaining. It obviously makes me King Of Cool Appliances. This is a fact the like of which could never be disputed. So There.


* Not his actual words but mine. I may be showing off a bit.

A Non Review Of The Year

S'over, nearly. Deal with it.

And it's been a long one hasn't it?

Obviously, while thinking over the last year it felt ... well... quick and eventless, really.

January happened, then February, then March as usual. I've been told that April and May were around. I remember the lead up to summer. And the summer, mainly for the frustrations at not getting my proper writing time. Um, and then it was Christmas. With snow. In fact, I'm still watching the snow coming down now and, since I have a New Years Picnic planned, I'm not liking it. Although, fresh snow... I can feel a snow man coming on. Or an Igloo. Yeah, that would be cool. In fact, an igloo with an Inuit family gathered around it skinning a Caribou. If that is indeed where Inuits call home and skinning stuff is indeed what they do. Maybe, to be safe I'll do an Inuit family, in shorts, playing on an Xbox in front of a villa as well. Just in case anyone asks.

But anyway, the point I was sort of ambling towards is that, actually, thanks to all those Review of the Year programmes it turns out that I'm wrong. It's actually been a long year, hasn't it.

I mean, January was ages ago. In fact, January was the official release of 9987. That boggles me a little bit. It already feels like it's been out forever. I already feel like I'm resting on my laurels and yet... You know, twelve months, whilst being ages ago is equally quite recent.

You see my point?

I dunno. Is it cos I'm getting old that a year sounds quite trivial now. It's no longer a tenth of my life, a twentieth, not even a quarter.

Does that mean that I'm allowed to work slower now?

If a year is quite trivial and yet is equally long, does that mean that twelve months hard writing need only amount to a years effort? Cos, you know, doing anything for twelve months takes ages. And it's a bit tough. But, stuff you did last year took seconds and, really, well it's all over now isn't it?

It's a line on an end of year review.

Which is why I'm not doing it.

So there.

This year we had that plane crash in New York, you know, the one in the river? And Jade Goody died, which I didn't really care about, although it feels like it happened a lot longer ago. Newcastle got relegated, which I did care about and, even a year on(ish) still hurts. Michael Jackson died and so we a month worth of funeral to enjoy. Barak Obama became President and that was ok for a bit, then he won the Noel Peace Prize and I starting thinking that, somehow, he was leading a bit of a charmed life. Not that I'm bitter, I just don't understand how he won it.

But anyway, I'm rambling, as always. What I'm trying to say is this:

It's been a long year and, when I'm not paying attention, it feels like a short and uneventful year.

But, you know, I think the best thing to take out of 2009 are the things that I can take with me into 2010. I'm still writing, by the end of the summer I'll have finished the first draft of Novel 2 (FSLL). I have a Disco Kettle which still dances as long as you've put enough water in him. I have a cat that stands on my keyboard. And, most importantly, I have my Geet Mint PR Guru.

And cos I'm really jammy I get to plan for a 2010 with them all in.

All the best yo! Hope you have plenty to take with you into 2010.