Sometimes, apparently, it’s a good idea to stop and smell the roses.  Or smell the coffee, or maybe just smell.  But anyway, you choose which analogy suits you best.  I say this, because yesterday I made the time to read, cover to cover, the new anthology from The Bardstown Writers’ Group, Chilled To The Bone.  Although a well-established writer’s group full of talented members, we don’t often get the chance to read each other’s work in full, and it’s easy to forget how well we write.  No really - I’m not blowing our own trumpet here - (although, why not?!) but seeing our work together again in our second anthology serves as a good reminder of our abilities as writers and story tellers.  It is said by those in the know that short stories are having a bit of a renaissance - although I’m not sure that they ever did dip in popularity.  With the bloom of epublishing, short story collections are readily available in digital and print-on-demand format (for the die-hard lovers of paper page turning) like never before.  They are, after all, not that dissimilar to a tv or radio programme, surely?  I have a book (several, actually) by my bed that is currently working very well as a mug rest, when I should be reading it - tragedy is, I have read most of it - just the last couple of chapters to go...or is is three?  Can’t remember, so will have remind myself of where I left off before the cat hooked out the book mark in game of Midnight Annoyance in that playfully supercilious way cats have.  If this book/mug rest had been a collection of short stories however, I wouldn’t be having this problem.  It's easy to read and fulfils the fire-gazer in me - don’t we all love being told stories?  If you were read to as a child, then you’ll know where I’m coming from - that love of a good short story never leaves you.  

Chilled To The Bone