27 May 2020
A reader's creative non-fiction goes under the editorial microscope
Read our suggested rewrite of a reader's first 300 words and for the full critique, see the July issue of Writing Magazine.
Don't Stop the Fiesta, by Mary Mae Lewis - original version
At the first light of dawn Kath carried the old dog to the camper bus, and plonked him into his bed by her husband’s feet; Robert frowned. He had been waiting in the driver’s seat for ten minutes, with the engine running.
Kath turned and a blew a kiss to Carl, stood at his bedroom window .Their twenty two year old waved back, feebly. Saddened, Kath looked away and bit her lip. Shivering she dashed to her car, on the road ,behind the bus. As she turned the ignition key snow began to fall.
In convoy , the two vehicles made their way up the slippery hill, turned right and headed towards the link road, the A500 which would pass through Stoke and take them to junction 16 of M6, where they would head south .
Sail Away Sail Away, the 1980’s hit song, was aptly playing on the car radio as they they motored passed the turn off for Festival Park. Kath’s imagination about the long journey ahead was already working overtime but then the bus’s lights flashed and Robert pulled in sharply. Kath tensed, and glanced at her watch; We’ve only been driving for five minutes !
“ Your dog has shit on my bus.” Robert ranted from the hard shoulder, as Kath pulled up. “It’s rolled under my clutch pedal. And it’s your dog.” Robert glared at Kath, as he pulled the poor, howling, creature towards her on a lead.
Fifty year old Kath sighed before stepping out of the Peugeot . She cupped her Staffordshire bull terrier’s face in her hands and pecked him on the forehead.” It’s alright, Josh “ she petted, before dealing with Robert.” OK I’ll clean the mess up.” She conceded, “While you take him for a walk!”
Don't Stop the Fiesta - McCredited version
Kath carried the old dog to the camper bus and placed him on his bed on the back seat. Robert frowned. He had been waiting in the driver’s seat for ten minutes with the engine running.
Kath turned and blew a kiss to Carl, who was standing at his bedroom window. Their twenty-two-year-old waved back feebly. Kath looked away and bit her lip, dashing to her car on the road behind the bus. Snow began to fall as she turned the ignition key.
Enya’s hit Orinoco Flow was playing on the radio. Sail Away Sail Away, she sang, as they motored past the turn-off for Festival Park. Kath was imagining the long journey ahead but then the bus’s lights flashed and Robert pulled in sharply. Kath tensed and glanced at her watch. We’ve only been driving for five minutes!
She pulled up on the hard shoulder and opened her door. Robert was already out of the bus and shouting. “Your dog has shit on my bus! The turd has rolled under my clutch pedal.”He glared and pulled the poor, howling creature towards her on its lead.
Kath sighed and stepped out of the Peugeot. She cupped her Staffordshire bull terrier’s face in her hands and pecked him on the forehead. “It’s alright, Josh” she said. Then to Robert: “OK I’ll clean the mess up while you take him for a walk.”