Tuesday, 21 March 2017

New website

I realise it's been forever since I've posted anything, and that nobody has any reason to visit this page anymore. But I wanted to share something important that I'm doing.

I want to offer an editing/proof reading service for people. I've come to realise that I enjoy helping people improve their work and with a degree in Creative Writing and English, with my history of freely helping others with edits for their works, I've figured why not try to start a business doing it?

Here's the website: https://editorrachel.wordpress.com/

It's still new and it might change a little, but that's the general gist of it. Please do take a look and even just drop me a message if you think I need to change anything or if you're interested!

Friday, 12 December 2014


So I've made some changes. I'm going to try to come back to this. In the mean time, have an excerpt from my other story "Color Blind"

Day 1

Jazz music filled the room. It surrounded me in a warmth blanket of comfort as I worked the paintbrush across the canvas, streaking it with shadow gray. I flicked my hazel eyes up to the xeroxed photo of Monet's Boulevard des Capucines and I squinted at it then the canvas. It still needed a touch of green. I moved the brush in my left hand to the blob of teal blue on my palette and brought it up to the canvas. I focused on light flicks of my wrist, catching the gray I'd just put there to create the right shadow tone for the trees.
    The phone rang.
    I straightened up and stared at the phone that was hung on the wall. I glanced at my watch and slowly turned my head back to the phone. It was far too late for Christina to be calling me and there was nobody else it could be. Nobody had that number. Panic started to hit me and I could do nothing but stare. I did not want to find out who was on the other end of the line.
    But the phone wouldn't stop ringing and something inside me told me that it would only carry on until I picked up. With goosebumps sending shivers throughout my body I bent down to settle the palette and brush onto the newspapers that covered the floor. Not once did I peel my eyes away from the phone, not even when it stopped ringing briefly. I shuffled in the vague direction of the radio to turn the music down when it started again.
    I bit my tongue, made sure the music was nothing but a dull lullaby in the background and took measured steps towards the phone. I stopped in front of it and just stared, my breath caught in my throat. All I had to do was lift my hand, a few inches, grab the phone and lift that just a little more.
I didn't want to. I was afraid to. My heart pounded and I swallowed back my fear and grabbed the phone. The ringing stopped when I lifted it off the cradle and I hesitated a second before I pushed the receiver to my ear. Forced confidence leaked into my voice as I said, “Hello?”
    “Laura?” My mind did a quick mental assessment before I could help it: Male, American with a hint of roughness to his voice.
    “No,” I managed after a pause and I pressed my free hand against the wall to stop my shaking nerves, “sorry. You've got the wrong number.”
    “Oh.” He paused. “Did a Laura used to live there?”
    “No. Sorry.”
    “My fault Ma'am,” and he hung up.
    The seconds ticked by before I pushed the receiver back in its place, my heart painfully thumping in my chest. It drowned out what little music I should be able to hear and my legs felt as though they were ready to give way. Did somebody know? Had somebody said something? But to get this number and to ask for Laura. That was the worst part. She wasn't a topic of conversation, anywhere. At least, she wasn't supposed to be.  

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Writers website.

I've been a little busy doing important stuff (I am sorry I have neglected this site.)

Personal Service Announcement:

Wanna join a writer's website where you can post drafts of work for others to criticise? Well then please go here: http://getyourwriteon.freeforums.net/

It's something I've recently set up (I'm still tweaking the rules) and it's completely free with no limits to what you can post. (some sites only allow free accounts like ten posts or ask you to pay to experience the full package). No this is completely free with the aim of nothing but helping one another with work they are working on or struggling with.

It's intended to become a community where people come together to ask for help and to give advice.

Thursday, 17 July 2014

Still behind...

Yeah, story of my life. ANYWAY, this is different.

I'll just go ahead and leave an extract here, let you guys mull on what's going on, what's going to happen and such. I will say this, the next 600 ish words happens over a space of about 30 seconds:

His gun swung up the stairs and she moved to the door. It was locked. “Locked,” she whispered. McCallister nodded and Charlie joined him at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll lead?”
            “No problem,” he said.
            “You can always go first.”
            A single laugh filled the room and Charlie set her foot on the bottom step as McCallister said, “I’ll let you get shot first.”
            “Thanks Lieutenant.”
            “You’re welcome Captain.”
            She shook her head and continued up the stairs. A lot passed within the next few short seconds. The first thing that registered in her mind was the sound of something tumbling along the floor. By the time she’d looked down the stun grenade had already gone off. Her eyes burnt and her ears were ringing. She couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see past the bright lights that danced in her vision and fell to her knees from the shock. Before she felt the effects begin to wear off she felt a foot connect with her stomach. The air was forced from her lungs and she fell flat to the floor. She managed to avoid smashing the goggles into the floor and her face, but she couldn’t stop the foot that slammed itself down on the side of her face.
            Black spots danced through the fading white dots and she could hear somebody kick somebody else somewhere behind her. Somewhere in her dazed mind she could hear a tiny voice shouting, “Captain? Captain!”
            There was another flash and bang and Charlie winced, pinched her eyes shut and groaned. She tried to open her mouth, tried to tell Hunter to back up, to be careful, but her voice was having trouble. Gun shots rang out, their echoes painful stabs to the back of her head and Charlie squeezed her eyes shut.
            She stretched a hand out, trying to find her misplaced weapon. Her hand patted nothing but cool metal and she deviated her hand towards her thigh holster. As her fingers brushed the warm metal of the handle, she felt somebody hover close above her. The goggles were ripped away and in the pervading dark she couldn’t see much except for a pair of bright whites staring down at her.
            There was another flash and another echoed bang that rattled inside of her skull. The eyes were still above her and she focused on them as she slipped her hand further down the grip of her gun.
            Then the eyes turned and she caught the faint outline of a person looking down at her leg. Charlie pulled on her handgun, managed to gather it in her hand and swing her arm towards the person before a hand slapped hers down and pinned it to the floor. Charlie went with it, rolling her body into the person and collapsing above them in a heap. An elbow was driven into her face and connected with her chin. Her teeth chattered against each other and her head throbbed that little bit more.
            Somebody shoved her body back and her dazed mind couldn’t catch up with the action. Her head fell against the floor with another knock and the black spots grew larger in her vision. She tried to pull herself back up, but there was a foot on her chest and some mumbled voices.
            She found her own voice again and managed to get out a, “Hunter?” before a foot slammed itself into the side of her head again. This time, the darkness took over her vision and she gave in to the pain, letting herself sink into unconscious bliss.

Sunday, 6 July 2014

7000 words done, a lot more to go

So yeah, things are changing. Garrison for starters now has a bigger role in the story, which is what I needed otherwise it would'v been the axe for him. There are ideas churning aroud in my head for him that I didn't have before....

Anyway, as I said in the title, I am at 7,000 words. My aim today is to get to at least 10,000. But hopefully a couple thousand more. But 10k is my minimum for today. In the meantime, I promised you an extract right? Well, here you go, 179 words of msytery and implications (hopefully):

Zach slumped in his seat, sleep begging for him to succumb to it. But there was a crew meeting after breakfast and his stomach begged for the warm food in front of him. In front of him Torres was battling the same fatigue and the smaller man held his head in one hand. Zach moved his foot underneath the table and nudged Torres’ leg. He shifted his eyes to him with blurred concentration. “Chin up sparky.”
            Torres frowned and straightened his back. He said, “I just want to get in bed.”
            “Join the club.”
            Eliot took a seat next to Torres and said, “Soon you can sleep for however long you wish.”
            Torres snorted, “I wouldn’t count on it.”
            Eliot frowned and Zach ducked his eyes. Their discovery last night would have to be reported which meant that they would have to investigate simply because they were the ones who found it. “Rules and regulations,” Zach said.
            Eliot sighed and Zach lifted his eyes to see the man’s shoulders slump, “I hate the rules.”
            “Don’t we all,” Torres said. 

Happy Writing!

Friday, 4 July 2014


Hey guys!

I just wanted to let you all know that today I am graduating from Bolton University! Three years of work have paid of for today - a hand shake, a speech and a piece of paper.

But Graduation - here I come!

Tomorrow (or the day after), another excerpt/paragraph from my NaNo - Redux.

Happy Writing!

Thursday, 3 July 2014

It's July!

Which means............ CAMP NANOWRIMO.

Yes. I am taking part.
Yes. I do plan to finish it this time (April was a busy ALL OF THE ESSAYS DUE time)
Yes. Expect more extracts.
Yes. It is Redux. I know I've kept saying that I'll finish the second draft (I should be a paid procrastinator) but I WILL complete it this month.
Yes. The crew still act like children. They will never grow up.

For now, have an edited 600 word extract from the first chapter:

A blue light flashed in urgency and she jumped down onto the lower deck with another sigh. Underneath the blue light was a button and she pressed it, listening to the speakers on the bridge channel nothing but static for several seconds. She sighed and dropped her eyes to the floor. That made it the seventh glitch in three days.
            Then there was another sound. Her head snapped up and she listened closely, “…ch…el… z…as” More static filled the small space of the bridge.
            She snapped her head up to see Warrant Officer Class 1 Zachary Chamberlin, his blonde hair mused more than usual. Tired green eyes stared down at her and she caught the dredged look in his appearance. She shook her head. Some days she wondered how he’d managed to get this far into the military with his lack of care for his appearance. “I thought I ordered you to bed.”
            Zach pressed himself against the railing that ran the length of the room, overlooking the lower level. One of his boots was settled against one of the lower rails whilst one of his arms propped him up. His other hand held firmly only to the cup of steaming coffee in his hand. “No offense Captain but I’d feel better if it were me on the bridge.” He shrugged one lazy shoulder and straightened himself up with a hand over his face, “Besides, I convinced Soko to stay in bed.”
            “What a gentleman,” another voice interrupted. A taller and dark skinned man entered the room, making the already cramped space even smaller. Charlie lifted one brow at the plastic glass in his hands. Sergeant Wes Eliot let out a chuckle and tilted the glass in her direction with a grin, “In celebration.”
            Zach snorted. Charlie watched Zach climb down one handed to her level without spilling a drop of coffee. “It’s about time we were going home.”
            “Ain’t that the truth,” Eliot said.
            “You know,” Charlie said, the corner of her mouth caught in the start of a smile, “one of these days you guys’ll listen to my orders and actually follow them.”
            Zach dropped himself into the pilots seat, his cup propped dangerously close to a few live circuits and open wires, his hands darting across the controls with expert ease. “Yeah, and on that day we’ll be dying with pigs flying telling us that they told us so.”
            Eliot snorted above her and Charlie shook her head. She folded her arms and pressed them against the head of the co-pilot’s seat. “Do I need to call Torres?”
            “Is it not just another glitch?”
            She looked up at the Kenyan man and shrugged her shoulders, “And that’s exactly why I’m wondering whether or not to let the man sleep. Which is something both of you should be doing.”
            “Yeah, yeah,” Zach said before he grabbed his cup and kicked his feet up and onto the control panel. “My opinion, get him out of bed. If I’m up he can be up.”
            Charlie arched a brow at that. “What’d he do?”
            Zach gave her a sidelong look before he shook his head. “He changed the temperature controls in the shower. Instead of hot, I got cold. Freezing cold.”
            “And you did what exactly?”
            “Zach,” she said, her voice tired. She wondered sometimes how any of her crew managed to stay within the military so long.
            Zach gave her another look before he grumbled something. When she asked him to repeat himself he said, “I may or may not have covered his pants in itching powder.”

Wednesday, 18 June 2014

Problem with society

Okay, firstly I want to apologise for how long I've been away from this site for. I am awful for leaving this and I promise you from now on, I'll be back to updating it.

Now, secondly - 'Sexualised women'. I am taking a step away from writing, just for now, to talk about a very important issue. (Sensitive subject coming up but I'll try to stay away from certain words)

I want to make a statement about a way of life that has been happening, is still happening, and is completely backwards. I joined Tumblr mroe so I could read/see other things. I don't do a whole lot of stuff but I see a hell of a lot more. Some of that includes the problems with our society and more in particular, with women.

"You shouldn't dress like that, men are dogs." <- This is a comment I've heard somebody receive for how they were dressed. (A crop top and a floor length skirt).

There are many other comments which we've all heard about. Firstly, we live in the 21st century. These clothes exist because we want to wear them. If we want to wear a crop top because we're feeling good that day, or because it makes us feel good about our body that day, why can't we? Because men might see those few inches of skin as an invitation?

Constantly women are being told what they should and shouldn't wear by society. But why? Why is it wrong for women to wear shorts and a vest yet any man may walk around in shorts and a naked chest? If a woman took her shirt off to walk around a shopping centre it'd be wrong and she'd be slammed as some kind of slut.

Ask yourself a question, if on a night out you have to be a part of a group to feel even a little bit safe, how right that is. Most women have to travel together or stay with people that they know in order to feel like they can have some fun. Yes, some women can go out on their own and have one hell of a time, but most of the time we can't go anywhere without the fear that our dress will attract the wrong kind of attention.

Because women are asking for it. Because men apparently have such little self restraint that it has to be a woman's fault.


How about instead of telling a woman she cannot allow herself to feel beautiful through her clothes and her personal appreciation of her body, we tell men to control themselves. We all wear clothes as an extenstion to ourselves. If on a particular day a woman has taken extra time to get dressed up, to make herself feel good, awesome and pretty, then why should she be criticised for it?

Women, if you are feeling awesome and want to share your awesome feeling through the clothes you wear, go for it. Wear whatever the hell you want and be proud.

This is all.