Tomorrow (Christmas day) will consist of my spinster Aunt and myself watching Christmas films over a crap lode of food/drink/and tissues. One day it won’t be like this.
One day, this will be my Christmas morning:
I’ll wake up at 9am with my head laying on his chest (in the same position I fell asleep in) with his arm wrapped around my body. It will be our first Christmas together, so I’ve got to make it a special one.
I’ll sneak out, (without disturbing his slumber), to get the Croissants ready for him when it does indeed wake. I’ll get his coffee ready – just the way he likes it. Strong with one sugar. Once everything is ready (and because I’m so impatient) I’ll get back into bed to slowly wake him up. I can do the whole ‘fake wake up’. You know – pretending to be restless sleeping when really your just pushing/kicking (softy) so they’ll wake up as naturally as possible. The kicking was natural.. right?.
He’ll greet me with a smile.
‘Merry Christmas Blake’ is what he’ll say, as he kisses my lips. He has morning breath but it i couldn’t care less. I’m going to act dumb and selfish, telling him that he should go make me a cup of tea before we get up. This is (of course) a ploy to get him to see the beautiful breakfast I’ve already laid out for him in the kitchen.
As he see’s it, he laughs almost as if he was expecting it. This is such a ‘Blake’ thing to do. I join him (just in my PJ bottoms and Robe) for a delicious breakfast with the man I love. Every time I look into his eyes, it’s as if the universe is reminding me that I am the luckiest guy alive…
I’ll leave it there for now guys… This is of course my Christmas fantasy which you can read in my series ‘Mr Perfect’s Apprentice’ being released in early 2013.
Merry Christmas everyone. I love you all. xxx
Welcome to another Sunday – which of course means another six sentences. I’ve really been enjoying this process of revelling mealy six of the (what feels like at times) millions of sentences that I write throughout t the week. It’s fantastic to see people enjoying what I’ve been presenting and given some helpful advice along the way. I’m very grateful for all the wonderful support you’ve been giving me over the past few weeks. So a big thank you to each and everyone one of you for reading.
This six comes from part two of the series and is about the consequence of the big night I had last night. Yes, it was last night – Hence why this six is so fresh. It was only written his morning & I still have the feeling I might vomit every two seconds. Don’t feel sorry for me, (I’d be surprised if you did), It is only the fault of myself and the 5 bottles of wine me and my friend consumed.
This weeks six:
I’ve got the usual suspects – Headache, fragile stomach and world-class weariness.
Ideally, I need a recovery that is as fast as Usain Bolt, and as smooth as David Beckham’s arse..
The ritual of deep fried breakfast and orange juice has proven helpful time and time again to relieve the horrendous pain in my head and dulls the urge to kill anyone who dares to make loud noises around me.
If this hangover were a film, it wouldn’t have a decent plot line and would most definitely be in a foreign language: Unbearably boring to watch and overwhelmingly confusing to understand.
You like it? Hate it? Comment on it! xx
SO I was sittin in a cafe this morning doing some work on the series, when I started to write a Mills & Boon scene. Some of you will know my background in writing pretty much covers comedy, and not much else. Never have I been asked to write about real love, sex, or something that doesn’t contain a joke about breasts. So now that I’ve been asked to write about my own love life (and to not leave out the sexy details), I tend to have quite realistic ‘sex flashbacks’ .. in public
I’m one of those writers that really has to get into what I’m writing. (Yep, I’m one of those wankers) So I visualise everything. I’m very lucky that I’m writing about my own life and own experiences because I’ve already lived what I’m writing. But when I want to go back to.. say that night with a particularly hot guy; I have to close my eyes and really get back to that frame of mind. What was I feeling, doing, ect. So when it starts to get a little hot and heavy.. the palms start to sweat, the smile on my face increases, and before I know it I look like this:
Replace Judith with the waitress holding my coffee with a look of concern on her face as one of her patrons is having (what looks like ) an orgasim in her cafe and you have the situation that was this morning.
Perhaps I should start writing these scenes in the privacy of my own home.
So I’ve got something a little special for this weeks ‘Six Sentence Sunday‘ ..
Firstly, thank you for everyones comments last week. I really appreciated them.
This is a snippet from the second instalment of my series ‘Mr Perfect’s Apprentice’ which isn’t being released until February. Not even my beautiful editor or publisher has seen this before. It’s fresh from the writing desk. Take a look:
His hand caresses my blushed red cheeks as his face gets closer toward mine. I close my eyes and simply let my lips touch his.
It might be the four wines I’ve had, but I feel my body surrender to what is happening as I feel his right hand wrap around my waist drawing me closer to his strong and solid body. My smile is uncontrollable as he draws back to look at me.
“For a first time kisser, that was pretty damn good.”
I want to say something witty like “Youtube tutorials can actually teach you anything” but on second thought, I think a less honest approach is the way to go.
Please note, that the video I linked isn’t the actually video that I watched to learn how to kiss, (yes, this is a true story) but the one I’ve linked his hilarious. Defiantly worth a giggle.
So that’s my first kiss. If you liked that then I can assure you you’ll love the rest of that chapter. Keep an eye for ‘Second Time Lucky’ being released in February and ‘At First You Don’t Succeed’ being released in January by ‘Tercio Publishing’. Watch this space!
I’d love any feedback you may have. As a new writer, any advice from anyone is useful. Hit the ‘Leave a comment’ button bellow and don’t forget to add your six sentence link to the comment so I can read yours.
My first ‘Six Sentence Sunday!’
This is a small snippet from my series ‘Mr Perfect’s Apprentice’ – Part 1: At first you don’t succeed. Basically I was extremely happy about my recently retail purchase, and I saw this really hot guy on the train whom I thought he was giving me flirtatious eyes.. Maybe he was checking out my new shirt.. Maybe not.
I begin to make my way towards the doors of the train when ‘sexy eyes’ stops me in my tracks..
“Excuse me, but I just thought you should know..”
That I am the man of your dreams and you want to take me away to your penthouse apartment to make passionate love to me all night long whilst whispering sweet nothings in my ear?
“.. that you’ve forgotten to take the price tag off your shirt.”
I want to climb into a hole and die, but I take a deep breath and reach around to the back of my shirt to rip off the tag. Somehow I don’t think sexy eyes is jealous of my op-shop purchase, even if I did get it for $2.50.
I do apologise for my lack of blogging. It’s been a busy few weeks getting the first part of the series sent of to the editor. I can’t wait for you guys to read it!
P.S Any feedback would be great.
So, this is actually a rather funny story.
A friend of a friend runs an E-Book publishing company and seems to think I lead a pretty funny life. Nobody else has ever thought this, but according to her, I do. So with her help, I’ll be realising (in parts) interesting stories from my life for the rest of the world to laugh at. My misfortunes and highlights as I discover how to become Mr Perfect for Mr Right.
I’ll give you a little background of myself though; I’ve moved to Melbourne to escape the Middle-of-Fucking-Nowhere that is my home town. I’ve known that the country life wasn’t for me since the day my father asked me to shovel cow-shit into bags for him to sell. You can probably imagine the look of disgust on my face- at seven tender years of age- as he handed me the shovel and gloves. He learnt quite quickly to not ask again. You can’t force a car to fly like you can’t force a child with the ‘fabulous’ gene to do country farm work. It just goes against nature.
If you’ve ever been to the Generic-Country-Town (you know the type), you should be well aware that there is nothing for a Someone with Big Dreams…well, my kind of Big Dreams anyway. But hey, if you dreams include becoming farmer with a wife and a few brats running around, or perhaps a single plumber who drinks his days away- knock yourself out- dream big. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing bad about this kind of aspiration- if that is what makes you happy, go forth and be merry. But if ‘Sex and the City’ has taught me anything, it is that the world has so much to give to someone with a reasonable sized brain and a heart full of love. So, naturally, there is very little for this town to offer me. And love is certainly something Melbourne has plenty of.
All my life I knew I’d move to Melbourne, I knew I’d be coming to find love.. but what else? I’ve formed my identity around the idea that I was a student, So now I’m longer studying, who am I? The question I dread at every social occasion is ‘So what it is that you are doing this year?’ This is also the Number One ‘getting to know each other’ date question. It makes perfect sense; you can learn so much about a person just by ‘what’ they do. If someone is to tell you that they are a medical student,for example, we can already safely assume the following things: the man obviously has a great deal of intelligence, must be very caring and warm hearted, and must be very good with his hands. On the downside: he could be socially awkward, arrogant, and emotionally ignorant. Maybe he’d also have an ego the size of the sun and would always be right in every situation, with the reason “But I’m a doctor” to back that up. I’m making very rash-generalizations here, not all doctors can be good with their hands, but you get what I’m saying. As hard as we can try not to judge someone on what they ‘do’ we are going to judge a little. So you can imagine what people are going to say when they hear the following reply to the question ‘What do you do?’
“Oh, I’m a 19 year old who has moved from the country to live with an Aunt (whom I barely know) and her cats. I have no real ambition or life purpose yet and to put the cherry on top, I’m a virgin who has never been kissed.” Awkward.
Perhaps I wouldn’t include that last part for people I just met, but it gives you the imagery of where my life is at the moment doesn’t it. I wouldn’t blame the poor sucker for hearing that story and doing an Olympic sprint in the opposite direction. That description (and I’m sure everything else about me) just screams Desperate Deadbeat. But that’s the wonderful thing about this year. I have a chance to focus on nothing else but myself- and who/what I want to be and ‘DO’. I’m going to change that unsightly description of myself and turn it into something incredible. I have the opportunity to reinvent myself, and because there wasn’t very much to begin with, so therefor I have a blank canvas to get started on.
So please join me on my journey of self-discovery as I try to find what the hell is it i’m supposed to be doing on this planet. I’ll be updating this thing as often as I can think of it.