Gamble

I've had a few days off work this week. It was to use up my leave before the start of the new financial year, but it coincided with the Cheltenham Festival. Good for relaxation but not for getting any writing done. I've been sleeping in, watching The Morning Line on Channel 4, then putting my bets on before watching the televised races. I gambled more than I usually do- £30 a day- with sometimes 5 each-way bets on the same race. Luckily, I've had a couple of biggish wins, so I'm not greatly out of pocket.
Before I got married, I didn't take any notice of horses. My family used to like it- my nan had an addiction. The family used to drive out to Kempton on Boxing Days, or Epsom Downs sometimes for the Derby. It was fresh air for the kids, we were told; so I would try running around on bits of grass, occasionally playing football or throwing frisbees. But as often as not, I would sit in the car, reading.
My wife, though, is Irish, and has horse racing in her blood. Her father used to work in a stable, and passed onto her a love of the sport and certain tips and bits of lore. If anybody's interested, a huge backside is an asset on a racing horse, and pricked up ears mean plenty of energy. I marvel at how she makes her selections, looking at all these hieroglyphics in the sporting pages, considering the horse's age, weight, form. I simply pick my horses by the names, or occasionally seeing what the paper recommends, or what is quietly fancied. Too often, pundits can make horse racing seem like advanced physics, which can be off-putting for those of us who aren't mathematically minded. There's a degree of luck in horse racing, just as there is in life.
Whenever we go to the track, we make a point of being outside and watching the race live. I even ignore the big screen which shows you the start of the race, preferring to watch the miniscule figures live. We also go out to the paddock whenever possible, too. When you see the horses in the parade ring- and they are beautiful, even if they do crap right there in front of you- you realize exactly what the sport is all about. There are some people who come to Kempton, Lingfield, Sandown, and remain in the bar, watching the races which are taking place immediately outside, on a television screen. I don't see the point of that.
You hear about professional gamblers, people who make a living from it, but I wonder what sort of pleasure they can get from that. My wife and I once found an abandoned betting slip with a £300 stake for just one horse, which clearly had not won. I tend not to bet on favourites, unless their names appeal to me, preferring to back the outsiders. If a horse's price is over 10-1, I bet each way.
I've just had a critique back from Fish Publishing, for a 300 word story I sent in for their flash fiction competition (trying saying Fish Flash Fiction when you've had a few). The critique was good- fair- but left me feeling deflated. It pointed out flaws in the story, and made me wonder whether I will ever get the hang of flash fiction. It's just so short- great for the reader, but how the hell does the writer get in the plot and create convincing, living characters?
I was trying to do two things simultaneously this week. One was to come up with an idea for a one-act stage play, suitable for the Drama Association of Wales competition in 2013- assuming the D.A.W.is still in existence. They've just lost their Arts' Council funding cut, and need your help. They're running an online survey at the moment, with a prize draw- go to http://www.dramawales.org.uk/ ). Please try to help this invaulable organization. Their annual playwriting competition is unique, and they give excellent critiques.
My other job was to whittle down one of my short stories from 4,000 words to 3,000. This was in preparation for the Bridport Prize short story competition (http://www.brdportprize.org.uk/ ). Strictly speaking, I could send it in as 4,000 words. But it needed trimming. And if it wasn't successful for the Bridport Prize, I was going to submit it to the Writers Forum Magazine open short story competition, whose limit is 3,000. Writers' Forum ( http://writers-forum.com/ ). also give terrific critiques.
So I was merrily bowling along trying to do those. The play idea was maddeningly elusive. The short story-whittling was like pulling teeth. I've got my story down to 4,400 words, but I just can't see another 400 words to cut. I had to lose one of my favourite sentences from it the other day, and that killed me. But in writing, you have to kill your darlings, and the story as a whole benefitted. I was thinking that, in future, when I set out to write a short story, I might give myself a target of 2,500 words, which seems to be a good average. Except, when you're writing at blood heat, you don't want to stop yourself. Oh, I don't know if I'll ever get the hang of this rewriting lark.
Then, in the week, I bought Writing magazine. They've got two short story competitions. One of which is for a flash fiction story; the other, closing date 16th April, is for a horror story. Between 1,500 and 1,700 words. And ever since I spotted those, I've been wondering whether I could enter them.
I have a flash fiction story already which might be suitable for the first competition. And for the second...I had a 1,000 word horror story sitting there doing nothing. I was thinking that if I could expand it by 500 words, it might be suitable. But having reread it, I don't know. It took me so long to whittle it down to 1,000 words...and it reads all the better for its brevity. So, if I want to enter the Writers News competition, I will need to think of a story from scratch.
I feel like Captain Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean films, when his compass keeps pointing all over the place.

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