K. Morris's Blog, page 794
January 11, 2014
Getting in Contact
If you have queries regarding my writing or would like to do a guest post on newauthoronline please e-mail me at newauthoronline @ gmail.com (the address is given in this manner in an attempt to defeat the scourge of the internet, spammers. Alternatively please feel free to comment on any of my posts.
Kevin
Prostitution In India
Two of my short stories, “Samantha” and “The First Time” deal with the lives of women engaged in prostitution. In “Samantha” Sam is trapped in the world of prostitution and it is touch and go as to whether she will survive or end her days in the cold and murky waters of the river Mersey. In “The First Time” we meet Becky, a young graduat who enters the arena of prostitution as an escort in order to pay her creditors. Becky fears becoming homeless and the dread of sleeping on the streets leads her to take up sex work.
Given my interest in prostitution I was interested to read the following post on the issue in India, http://cupitonians.wordpress.com/2010/08/03/guest-blog-legalizing-prostitution/. The post is worth a read and I recommend it to you.
For my Amazon author’s page please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
January 10, 2014
So you want to be a what??? (For all aspiring writers out there)
Reblogged from Chris The Story Reading Ape's New (to me) Authors Blog:
This morning I woke with the idea this was going to be a normal, productive, writing day. I knew I wanted to add a couple of things to my website, and I had some non-writing stuff to get out of the way first, but my main idea was to sit down in front of my computer and write for ten or twelve hours.
A great post not only for new authors but for established writers as well.
January 8, 2014
The 8.32
He stood, leather briefcase in hand. Just another nondescript commuter awaiting the 8.32 to London Victoria.
“I am sorry to announce that the 8.32 to London Victoria is delayed by approximately 3 minutes. Please listen for further announcements. I am sorry for the delay to this service” the public address system announced.
He sighed, “Typical, I’ve never known the train be on time. You wonder why they even bother apologising as they obviously don’t give a damn about the poor bloody commuter!”
The balding elderly man who stood next to the speaker made no sign of having heard.
“What time do you need to be in today Tom? I’ve got a meeting at 9.30. The Director will go ballistic if I’m late. For heavens sake I’m giving the presentation. Its an important contract. I can’t be late” the man with the briefcase said glancing anxiously at his watch.
His acquaintance made no response.
“Damn rude” the speaker muttered under his breath.
Peter Jenkins had taken the 8.32 for more years than he cared to remember. He was on speaking terms with all his fellow commuters. It was most peculiar that Tom (he didn’t know his surname) was ignoring him. Perhaps he had a lot on his mind. We all have mornings when we don’t want to talk. None the less it was unpardonable for Tom not so much as to nod in acknowledgement of his presence.
“I am sorry to announce that the 8.32 to London Victoria has been cancelled. Please listen for further announcements. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause to your journey”.
“I don’t believe it. They are always cancelling that train. I’m going to be late again” Tom remarked to Lucy, a grey haired lady standing close by.
“I was just saying the same thing. Well something similar” Peter said addressing Lucy (she was a solicitor. Maybe a barrister. He wasn’t quite sure(.
“It’s a disgrace and every year they have the brass neck to increase the price of our season tickets. These privatised companies don’t care about the passengers. We are just bums on seats, that is when you can find a seat. I’ve had to stand the last few times”, Lucy said addressing Tom. What the hell was going on. First Tom, now Lucy. Both where acting as though he didn’t exist.
“At least it’s quite mild for January. In fact I’m roasting in this coat” Peter said tapping Tom lightly on the shoulder. Tom shivered involuntarily despite the unseasonably warm weather.
“I will be writing to the rail company to complain” Tom said.
“Good luck, but it won’t do a blind bit of good” Lucy replied.
He couldn’t understand it. Tom had exhibited no reaction other than a minor spasm when touched on the shoulder and neither Lucy nor Tom appeared to have heard a word he had spoken. Indeed the spasm he observed in Tom could well have been a mere figment of his imagination.
“The train now arriving on platform 1 is the 8.40 to London Bridge”.
“I’m going to take this one. I’ll get the underground from London Bridge to Victoria” Lucy said.
“Good idea. God only knows when the next direct train to Victoria will arrive” Tom said walking with Lucy towards the train.
The man picked up his briefcase and followed the pair onto the train. As he entered the compartment he brushed against a young woman carrying a baby.
“I’m terribly sorry”. The woman headed for a vacant seat appearing not to have noticed either the jossling or the apology of the man who had bumped against her.
He took a seat behind the row occupied by Tom and Lucy.
“Did you hear about Peter?” Lucy asked.
“No but I was thinking how unusual it was not to see him this morning. He’s so punctual, you can almost set your watch by him”.
Yes he was as regular as clockwork. Poor old boy was found by his wife on the bathroom floor. He was as cold as ice. He’d obviously been dead for hours. Must have got up in the night and had a heart attack”.
“I’m sorry. Poor Jane must be distraught. How did you hear?”
“I bumped into one of their neighbours on the way to the station. She was woken up by the ambulance and went outside to see what was happening. He was pronounced dead at the sceene. Poor old Peter”.
Sitting in the row behind, Peter Jenkins felt a sense of growing bewilderment. “I always assumed that when you die that is the end. Perpetual darkness with no awareness of anything. Can I really be dead? What will happen when I go into the office? I won’t be noticed by anyone. I can’t contribute to discussions. What can I do with my life now?” He cut himself short. “I’m dead. I have no life. All this is so pointless. Can I float?” he wondered suddenly intrigued by the possibilities now open to him. Peter concentrated and after a moment of uncertainty when nothing appeared to happen he floated up to the ceiling of the train. He glided through the compartments. As he passed over the commuters they shivered which was odd given that the train’s heating was turned to maximum capacity.
“Someone just walked over my grave” Tom said with a shudder.
“Mine to” Lucy said reaching to fasten her coat.
Updated Author Profile On Goodreads
I have updated my Goodreads author profile to include my latest collection of short stories, “Street Walker And Other Stories”. For my Goodreads author profile please visit https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6879063.K_Morris.
Kevin
January 6, 2014
To Indent or not Indent?
That is the question at the heart of this post.
When writing a novel or novella, do you indent, or not?
What are the reasons you have for that?
I'm curious here, as I have been copying style, and a good friend has suggested not indenting. So, which is your preference, and is there any particular reason?
An interesting question
Sexbots are Persons, Too?
Reblogged from A Philosopher's Blog:
In my previous essays on sexbots I focused on versions that are clearly mere objects. If the sexbot is merely an object, then the morality of having sex with it is the same as having sex with any other object (such as a vibrator or sex doll). As such, a human could do anything to such a sexbot without the sexbot being wronged.
Just because it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck is it, in fact a duck? I am not sure that it is, although if it could be demonstrated that advanced robots of the future feel (as opposed to simulate pain) then there would be a case for according them similar treatment to humans, I.E. some kind of human rights.
January 5, 2014
My Birthday
Tomorrow (6 January) is my birthday. I must admit to being 31 again …! It being difficult to meet up with friends during the week, we got together on Saturday evening in my favourite local, The Railway Bell, http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/11/11712/Railway_Bell/Crystal_Palace. The Bell is a lovely traditional pub with pictures of old trains on the wall, an aquarium full of tropical fish and an open fire which is wonderful on a cold winter’s evening. Despite the absence of a blazing log fire yesterday (I love it when my guide dog Trigger stretches out in front of it as there is something very homely about the sceene) my friends and I spent a convivial few hours in the Bell. Incidentally the reference to Sunday roast on The Beer In The Evening site is, sadly inaccurate as no roasts have been served in the pub for several years. The Bell does, however offer a selection of delicious rolls (freshly made, not pre-packed) to which I have often succumbed. I am particularly partial to ham and tomato on fresh bread.
Yesterday we all resisted the temptation of freshly made sandwitches, moving on to The Palace Spice for a delicious Indian meal and a bottle of house red, http://www.palacespiceindian.co.uk/restaurantinformation.aspx?restaurant=1. The Spice is a regular haunt for my friends and I. Talking to my friend Brian we estimated that we spend (together with other guests we take there) over £1000 a year which is a testament to the quality of the food!
Tomorrow I will have a lazy day which will no doubt encompass a trip to the Bell at some juncture.
Kevin
