Archive for February, 2013

The Porn of Writing

Posted in Books, My Opinion, love it or leave it, Novel Process, The Novel Process, Writing with tags , , , , , , on February 21, 2013 by tgmreynolds

Good evening.

I have found that writing stories both short and long is such an intimate activity, where we delve into our own souls and the world around us to find the depth and meaning which will give our characters and tales life and spark the imaginations of our readers, that I’ve started a blog about the whole story-writing process. It’s writing through a steamy lens, but still G rated. It’s less a manual and more an homage to our moments of creation.

This week it’s CHARACTER.  

For those who missed it, last week was the IDEA.

Coming Soon: The Menage-a-Plot, Straddling the Setting, Tying Down Conflict, Resisting Resolution.


T Bone
(Tim G. Reynolds/TGrey)

Tim Reynolds`writing tools

The Writing Tools of Tim Reynolds


A 100-Word Short Story?

Posted in Short Fiction, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , on February 9, 2013 by tgmreynolds

I didn’t really think I could write a complete story in only 100 words, but I really didn’t have a choice. It was an interesting challenge and, as usual, the idea came to me out of the blue while I was just driving along.

My story is “Temper Temper” and it is something of an ‘audition piece’ because although the top 20 entries will be published in an eAnthology, the top three will be picked and they will be invited to enter the first 3000 words of their unfinished novel to compete for a Curtis Brown Creative online novel writing course. Fingers and stuff are crossed. Here’s my entry, for your enjoyment:

Temper Temper


Timothy Reynolds

Leon slammed the spade’s blade into the dirt cellar floor. “Hack my Facebook account will she? Bitch! No wonder Dad ran off with the babysitter-slash-cheerleader when I was ten.”

The pile of dirt grew.  A car door banged shut. He dug faster, mumbling. “I’ll kill her, bury her, hack her Facebook account, and make it look like she’s travelling.” The shovel hit something hard. “What the hell?” He brushed off dirt. In the dim light it looked like two skulls and a pompom.

“Whatcha doing, Honey?”

Leon spun at the sound of his mother’s voice, but not fast enough.


Thanks for reading. Many thanks go out to my anonymous Beta readers who helped clean this story up by asking questions, making suggestions, or just telling me that this part or that part sucked..

Ciao for now,


Human Skull

From beneath the cellar floor.