fcmalby

This is the Year I Learn to Float

Today is the National Flash Fiction Day 10th Anniversary and I have a flash fiction piece published in their Flash Flood Journal which was chosen from 2,000 entries!

I am eight years old and this is the year I learn to float. It is the year I learn to speak Spanish, although I firmly believe floating will be more useful, especially if I want to become a magician’s assistant. You don’t need language qualifications.

“Heather?” Mum yells up the stairs. “Come down and set the table.” I wonder if I can do this by floating, but I will need more practise. She doesn’t understand magic. Not many people do. I set the table and float back upstairs, but I have to stop half way as I lose my focus.

At the dinner table, later in the evening, the conversation revolves around government policies, shopping lists and Harry’s exams. “I can levitate,” I say. Silence falls across the room. Grandpa is snoring in the corner in his rocking chair. Dad gives me an eat-your-food look and that’s all I say for the rest of the evening. At breakfast tomorrow, I will try Spanish. It will be more acceptable.

Find out more about what’s happening this weekend and beyond at National Flash Fiction Day.

You Fold Yourself into Tiny Spaces

My story has been longlisted in the Reflex Press Quarterly International Flash Fiction Awards 2021.

You fold yourself into tiny spaces, words come at you like rain. You tuck in your arms and feet – soles digging into your calves – so that the words don’t slice your limbs. You hide your competition win in case it’s seen as an indulgence, like the cakes you get for afternoon tea: Miniature, crustless cucumber sandwiches, cakes and scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Saliva lines your lips as you imagine this.

You squeeze your words into shorter sentences and, sometimes, single words. Your arms sting with the folding and the tucking. The tiny spaces make her feel bigger, less threatened; more. You listen hard and speak less, reaching a point where the bird flying overhead, beyond the skylights, provides the distraction you need.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asks, but you know you can’t give a proper answer.

‘I forgot,’ you say, and take a swig of hot tea, the mug leaving a ring on the mat. This will be noted… continue reading at Reflex Press.

Small Sounds Ricochet Through the Darkness by FC Malby

My story, Small Sounds Ricochet Through the Darkness, has been published in Idle Ink today. It was written in memory of Sarah Everard and anyone who has been affected by violence against women.

Don’t walk home alone, not at this time of night, my friends say, waving at me from a table of empty cocktail glasses, flapping like a gaggle of geese. I’ll be fine, I say, I’ll text you when I’m home. Are you sure? they ask, but it’s more a way of allaying their own fears. Yes, I’ll be fine.

I walk out of the bar, keys in hand, each one pushed between my fingers — a miniature Edward Scissorhands — EarPods in, mobile phone clutched in the other hand. I wore flats, because that’s what you do when you might need to run. It’s normal, except that it’s not. Normal is wearing what you like, not thinking about when you might need to run or who you would need to call, it’s not turning the music down in case there’s a Come over here, Love. Oi. You. I’m talking to you.

Normal is a regular heartbeat, a regular pace to your stride. It’s not hovering under a streetlight where people see you before crossing the stretch of darkness. It’s not scanning a route for places to hide, or rounding a corner and sprinting like a triathlete because the footsteps behind are picking up speed.

The girls will go home later in a taxi, but I need to get back for the babysitter, pay her, get into my pyjamas and sleep, having kissed the cherubs on the forehead, checked their breathing. Every parent checks the rise and fall of their child’s torso, especially when it is still.

Like the still of the sea without wind, nights like this make me nervous, nights where I get followed or shouted at with no one around, where the air is thin, where small sounds ricochet through the darkness. These are the nights when men get too close, gaze for too long, howl like a pack of hyenas… continue reading at Idle Ink.

Sacred Halos

The guide ushers us through rooms with a sweeping arm movement. You see a windmill. She points to a Rembrandt and a Picasso as though they are the same. Her crimson lipstick has left its mark on her upper tooth, reminds you of a girl you used to take salsa classes with, until she vanished.

Tourists behind are snapping pictures, pressing you forwards, reminds you of a Rolling Stones concert.

“No flash,” she says. “Stop.”

Her words pull away like birds vanishing into the eye of a storm. There is a final snap of a shutter release and she growls like a dog: lips curled at the edges, eyes fixed to the floor.

“And we have our final room, the Cubists.”

She says the word, Cubists, as though the best has been saved for last, as though she is about to produce a vintage port, but you know it is not the highlight. The highlight was the entree: Da Vinci’s Last Supper…. Read more on Medium

Blogging as a Writer: Why It’s Worthwhile and How to Build Up Over Time

WordPress sent me a notification this week to say that I’d published 200 posts, and they think this is worth celebrating. 200 posts! It sounds a lot, but it’s been built up over time, much like the rest of my writing.

Sometimes the task of writing a novel or putting a short story, flash fiction or poetry collection together feels vast, but these are all built up over time. Writing steadily over the months and years will help you to reach your goals.

I began blogging in 2012, before the release of my debut novel, Take Me to the Castle. It was a great way of connecting with readers and honing my skills as a writing.

The posts have been a mix of author interviews, posts about the craft of writing and personal writing news, although most of this is sent out in a newsletter.

So, why write a blog as an author? Some feel it’s a waste of writing time, but here are the benefits:

1. It builds your audience and connects you with readers, and other authors. There are many authors who follow my blog who have cheered me on, and vice versus. People can follow your blog and sign up to your mailing list. Your list will grow over time.

2. It keeps you writing regularly and forms a vital habit, especially of you are writing non-fiction. For fiction writers it’s good to switch gears, although you can also post some of your work. I’ve chosen not publish my work until it has been published in a magazine or journal, but some authors post snippets as they work on their manuscript, so that readers get a taster.

3. You get to meet some wonderful authors and editors along the way. I’ve interviewed Matt Haig and S.J. Watson, as well as short story authors and poets. I have also interviewed journal editors, which promotes their journals and gives new writers an idea of how to submit, and what editors are looking for.

4. It’s a great addition to an author website. When readers enter your website, they can find out more about you through your blog. I’ve often had interesting chats with people in the comments on blog posts and have met readers that way.