Ah, I thought I was going to keep my promise and post this yesterday, but it’s just gone past midnight.

I don’t feel that’s entirely my fault: I was called into work unexpectedly and have only just, fighting through post-work, food and shower drowsiness found the time to make the final edits of this story, which I fear might not actually stand up to any hyperbolic statements I may or may not have made about it (I’m really too tired to remember what I said about it, if anything). Regardless, it is a good story, possibly a great one, and I think there’s a fair bit going on in it, which I hope will come across in subsequent re-readings of the story, if not the first time through.

So, yes, I am proud to have this as my one hundredth post, and I hope you all enjoy it,

Henry.

The New House

“Hey,” said Kate, “hey, stranger.”

She grabbed Jay’s arm, brought him to a stop in the cloying heat of an August Saturday as he picked his way through the crowd. People continued to push past, making little, if any, concession.

“Hey,” he said, looking at her, surprised.

“You nearly walked right past me,” she said.

(more…)

If you’re reading this, you’ll have noticed that The Aspiring Writer is now on a new domain, and is no longer called The Aspiring Writer. This wasn’t entirely planned.

You may recall that in my last post I briefly mentioned how the Aspiring Writer’s first birthday was coming up, and would be missed because I would be in Yorkshire (which was fun by the way, and I may upload some pictures at some point). Well that day came and with it brought the expiration of my original domain registration with HostGator, which should not have been a problem because it should have been transferred to Fast Hosting Direct. However, it turns out there was some problem with the transfer, meaning that it was left to expire with HostGator. I’m not sure exactly who was to blame, but after an exchange of emails between myself and the two companies I decided it would just be easier to swap to a new domain than go through all the hassle of sorting out my old one.

(more…)

Oh wow, it has been a few days since I updated the site. Well I’ve been busy: moving house, starting a new job, that sort of thing, not to mention my inexplicable inability to access the wireless internet we just got set up in our new house. Anyway, I’ll get that sorted and get some new stuff up some time soon, though not before another week has elapsed, since tomorrow I’m off to spend a week in sunny Yorkshire.

Unfortunately, I most likely shan’t have easy access to the internet on August 21st, which is the first anniversary of The Aspiring Writer, not that I’m really sure how I would celebrate it anyway. But I shall make an effort to get another two, three or four stories finished over the next week, so at least I’ll have something to post when I get back.

And with that, I shall bid you all adieu.

A cartoon flashed across the screen; all bright colours and high-pitched childish voices from tinny speakers. In the corner of the screen an immobile, ghostly presence; the famous round face and over-sized ears, behind which danced Mickey, Donald, Goofy and the rest, acting out an approximation of a Midsummer Night’s Dream. Mickey was Lysander. Goofy was Puck. It’s easier that way; saves the writers from coming up with original plot lines. Not that Rachael knew that. Perhaps she might have guessed this episode was based on another story from the mock-Elizabethan costumes, but it would be another four years or so until she learned who Shakespeare was. From downstairs came her mother’s voice, shouting over the raucous cartoon voices, over a baby’s wail, over the shouts of boys playing football outside and the middle-distance hum of traffic.

“Rachael.”

“What?” She uncrossed her legs, hopped off the pink My Little Pony sheets of her bed and went over to the door frame where she hung off the door, letting it swing with her body-weight and felt the smooth white paint under her fingers. “What?” she repeated.

“Come downstairs,” her mother said. Rachael sighed, flicked her head back towards the TV. The adverts were on now anyway: blonde girls dancing with glittering plastic hoops in the sunshine, spiky-haired boys in sunglasses chewing gum, blowing bubbles. Rachael slumped downstairs, letting her bare feet fall heavily on each step, while, in the cramped kitchen her mother tried to comfort Michael, Rachael’s baby brother, and unpacked shopping from white and green Asda bags. Entering the kitchen Rachael began to root into one of the bags, searching for sweets and chocolate, making the thin plastic crinkle as her slender hands moved over a packet of mince, a bag of carrots, some folded up magazines.

(more…)

In a further act of promoting sites other than my own, and eliciting an even more specialist interest than the New Yorker’s literary podcasts, I would like to share 8bit Peoples with anyone who cares since, like all great things on the web, it’s free, and free music no less. Whether this music appeals or not is a different matter. As the title suggests it’s one of the geekiest genres of music: 8 bit music AKA chip-tunes, bitpop, Nintencore, Gameboy Music – Music made partly or entirely by modifying and sampling old videogame consoles to create a kind of beepy Electronica that occasionally blends into other genres such as pop or folk. The artists featured on this site are surprisingly diverse.

But you’ve already decided whether or not this is of interest to you. If you’re curious though, head on over to 8bitpeoples.com and check out the discography section. Like I said, the artists have put all there work on there for free. Personally I would recommend anything by Trash80, Random, Firebrand Boy or Mark DeNardo. And that’s all I have to say. I’ll write and post a story or something soon.