Quick Writing Snippets – ‘Shoes’

Her feet were bare.

At first they thought she hadn’t any shoes; she was dressed in a tiny slip of a thing that could have been a dress, could have been a nightgown,¬†with bare legs and no underwear, and had clearly been dragged across the wet grass. Their first thought had been a fight turned ugly at home. There were too many cases like those – hospitalisations and much worse just because some guy couldn’t keep his temper under control. So it would make sense if there were no shoes.

A search was ordered anyway. I circled the area round the trees, glancing my torch off of roots and unopened flower heads. My heart sank as I heard the calls from behind me; someone had found a pair of tights, almost disintegrated in the wet grass; then a pair of bloodied knickers, a scattering of objects obviously from a spilled handbag. And then I saw them: a pale blue to match the silvery fabric she wore, heels almost two inches high, both unbroken, sitting innocently in the grass as if someone had placed them deliberately.


(Another quick passage written before our food arrived in Nando’s. I spent two minutes staring at my boyfriend as he scribbled away while I was totally stuck for ideas, and then wrote this in another two minutes and it ended up being twice as long as his even though we ended at the same time)

Quick Writing Snippets – ‘Puddle’

‘Hey sugar!’

‘Hey honey!’

‘Hey cutie-pie!’

‘Hey snookums!’

‘Hey puddle!’


‘Yeah, puddle. You like it?’

‘Why would I like being called a puddle? It’s all wet and shallow and… and… drippy!’


She three her pillow at his face.



(My boyfriend and me wrote little passages using random words which he came up with. I was reluctant to, so I wrote this in retaliation)

Conversations with Steve #5


Steve: What’s with my wobbly face?

Isla: My hands are shaking.

Steve: . . .

Isla: I’m sitting under a fan.

Steve: . . .

Isla: I don’t want to move. I’m sitting in a corner. It’s a good place to observe and eavesdrop.

Steve: Sigh! I don’t know what to do with you, girl.

Isla: What can you do? You’re just scribbles on a page.

Steve: Hey! I provide you with companionship, don’t I? And entertainment. You must take some enjoyment from me, otherwise you wouldn’t keep drawing me, right?

Isla: Aww, are you feeling under-appreciated?

Steve: You’re the one having an imaginary conversation here.

Isla: I’m using you to procrastinate.

Steve: Sure, we’ve all heard that excuse before.

Isla: I’m supposed to be writing a 10,000 word dissertation right now.

Steve: Don’t forget your Modernism essay and those short stories you want to write.

Isla: Okay, you are officially not helping any more.

Steve: And I was before?