The Journey.

I open my eyes but am unable to move, my head letting out a searing pain as warning every time I attempt to. It’s taunting me, letting me know that last night’s shots were not a smart idea. My mouth feels dry as I slowly unstick my lips from one another and attempt to swallow what little saliva I have in my mouth. Running my tongue along the gritty covering that has now found home on my teeth, I slowly sit up and instantly feel the sting of bile rise in my throat. God, the movement of the train is threatening to give my late night kebab a repeat performance.

Wait a train! What train! I didn’t get on a train! My mind goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the random snippets of last night’s events. Cost cutting pre drinks at mine. Taxi to Olnetios bar, on to a club. Kissing some stranger at the takeaways and then nothing.
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I saw this competition on the Twitter page of Elle. After kicking myself for not seeing it sooner, I set about trying to write the entry I would’ve submitted. It seemed so easy, write a 500 word essay on the theme ‘#relationshipgoals’. It could be about your relationship with anyone and what you want from it. Little did I know it would take me at least 6 days to write the first sentence.

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The killer you know.

Jayde inwardly cursed herself for her rebellious streak. According to Doctors a torn ACL in her knee should have rendered her practically immobile and, when she was on her legs, she was to walk with caution. Did she listen? Of course not, naively thinking that no injury could stop her. It was going well – for a while at least – until her pony sized puppy had got over excited at the sight of a wild rabbit and given chase. Now she was entrapped on a recliner with an ice pack on her rolled ankle and knee to help the swelling go down and bruising come out. Her partner Charlie, ever sympathetic, was glued to the his computer game killing aliens that were yet again trying to destroy earth. She stared at the blank screen in front of her, willing a story to pop into her head. Normally her creativity didn’t need encouragement at all but lately she seemed listless, easily agitated and constantly on edge. Something bad was going to happen, she just couldn’t figure out what.

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A writer that doesn’t write?

I started this blog with naive visions of a community of followers, all desperate to read the next post I put up. I’m not confident in many things, infact not much at all, but I know I can tell a good story. Like Stephen King I write from experience or nightmares, sometimes both, and really throw myself into the emotions of the character at any one time which leads to some fascinating car journeys home from work (I’ve bought on a panic attack once, just to write about it accurately). Within weeks I realised that blogging is not an instant ‘fame maker’ per say but I kept trying. Over the last few years, I’ve stopped completely – the occasional post going up followed by months of silence when viewers didn’t flock to my blog. I would look at people like Zoe Sugg, known as Zoella, Tanya Burr, Louise and other blogger/vloggers who have made a solid career out of blogging, each post getting thousands of comments and quickly spiralled into a deep depression where I questioned my ability to write.

One day I was sat watching Suits with my other half and a character, Jessica, said she had worked hard to build her Company from scratch (actually she’d stolen it from Daniel Hardman but lets not get into that). It was just a statement to move the episode along but it really hit home to me. I hadn’t tried, rather expected it to happen to me. How selfish is that? I want to be a novelist yet haven’t written a manuscript. I want followers but don’t follow people. I expect it to be handed to me on a plate and, at 26, I should certainly know better. It was nothing short of an epihany.

If I want people to reply to my stories, to start discussions surrounding what I’ve written or questions I’ve asked then I need to put the work in. The following are my targets:

* Start writing regularly – at least once a week, on a Sunday, building up to more.

* Reading/subscribing to other blogs I enjoy – simple really, share the love!

* Submit to competitions and really work at creating a ‘brand’ of myself – how can      people read my writing if I am not writing anything

* Be more personal – I am natural quite a recluse but I want you to get to know   me as well as my stories, often they overlap anyway

So I may not be Stephen King or Jodie Picoult…not just yet…but I am Sarah-Jayne, sometimes known as chronicles, and I will get my name out there! Now to find a pen…

Return of the Queen!

The water lapping against my body was a welcome feeling. I was so warm and it offered a little bit of relief, just a little. Opening my eyes, I tried to take in my surroundings and figure out where I was. Think back Charlotte I thought, the fog that encompassed my mind trying to thin itself and let memories seep through but they were patchy. A phone, a gold dress, pre going out cocktails, a text, a man and then… then… then nothing. Frustrated I sit up and look at my wrists for any stamps or signs of where I have been but they are plain except for a small scrape on my inner palm. Did I fall over? Running my hands over the rest of my body, I look for any more injuries, I have a bruise forming on my knee and a deep cut on my right hip, its tidy and clean, more like an incision then a cut. I place my hands on the floor and start to push myself up before a sharp stabbing pain rushes through my wrists and I fall back down, its jarred. Definitely fell down.

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Excerpt from a novel I am working on..

We, as Guardians of the Insculpo, have been fighting for peace since the beginning of time. We have seen destruction, jubilation, evolution and so much more incredible and scary things that are beyond explanation-all at the hands of the human race. We chose your planet because whilst you have the ability to create amazing things, to cure diseases that should be fatal and survive worldwide diseases such as the black plague, small pox and come out stronger on the other end but your inability to control your emotions prevents you from truly excelling.

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