Hi there, and just a polite request to ask you please to slip over to my other site at Wordpress, as this site will soon be closing. I'll still be blogging and talking nonsense at jaccigoodingauthor@wordpress.com so you can follow me there and also have my utterings delivered direct to your inbox via good ol' fashioned email. Just fill out the box and tah-dah! new blog posts will come straight to your inbox. You can also find me jabbering away on 

Twitter @JacciGooding (no surprises there then) 

Many thanks! and see you on the other side... 

so to speak!

Jacci

2nd May 2016





Friday 22nd April

Tomorrow sees the second fabulous Hawkesbury upon Upton literary festival in Gloucester, organised by writer Debbie Young, where I shall be reading one of my short stories in three minutes.  Three minutes?!  And there was me planning to read my really good story about the chef and his new barbecue in nearly ten.  Not so.  Raconteur and compere John Holland cracked his whip and insisted, no, three minutes only.  So, back to the good ol’ drawing board I went and threw together a little bit of prose inspired by the shaggy bleaters in the field next to my house.  Sheep, in case you were wondering.  And perhaps that should be wooly.  Anyway...

            ...This new three minute wonder will now be appearing in my first collection of short stories which will be released into the wild this summer.  Designer Rachel Lawston has created this wonderful first proof - yes, it is as barking as it looks, but then so are the stories within - and we are tinkering around with it to make sure it has maximum effect when it joins the many out there in epub land.  Hawkesbury is great event where readers, writers, agented and the self-published can come together and just enjoy the world of literature, and there’s probably one near you too.

Starting off in deepest darkest Cornwall, at the St Ives Lit Fest, then up to the Bodmin Moor Poetry Festival, and then Fowey, then up to a bloody crime fest in Bristol,  down a bit to the Swindon festival, further south and  along the coast to Charleston, on the South Downs, and carry on to Kent and the http://www.whitlit.co.uk festival.  And something London based but wowza, what a venue, The Greenwich Bookfest.

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 It's raining, it's pouring,

The story I'm writing is boring

I went to bed and my husband said

'Quite so, and your grammar is clearly appalling' 

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A 50 word ghost story..

The Hanging Tree

A cold night for a walk.  The pub closed and they set off along the country lane homeward.  Past the church, along Butchers Row, and out toward the ancient Hanging Tree at the crossroads.  A creak of heavy rope on wood stopped me dead.  Literally.   

Nervously, they hurried on home.