Flash fiction: The Roper Brothers’ Garage

November 19, 2014November 20, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 63 Comments

Ivy always took the car to the Roper brothers in the village, even though she knew they rolled their eyes behind her back and over-charged her.

‘Sounds like it’s the carborator or the catatonic convertor,’ Gordon would say, his voice echoing under the bonnet and Greg would cough and turn away to stop himself from laughing out loud. Ivy wasn’t stupid; she knew.

It was the smell of the place that kept her coming back to be made a fool of: oily dust and petrol fumes, warm leather and cigarettes. The smell of her father; dead and gone these past sixty years.

I’m delighted that this week Rochelle has chosen one of my photos for our flash fiction prompt. Why not join in with the 100-word challenge, or read what other writers made of the picture.

I’m also delighted that a short piece of my non-fiction about living with teenagers has been published on the Tin House blog today.

Flash fiction: After The End

November 12, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 57 Comments

Before the end, Flora liked to dress in boys’ clothes and catch the train to the city, just for the hell of it. She wore trainers for speed, put her hood up, and slouched. She practiced saying ‘yeah’ and ‘nah’, as if she was bored by everything. Sometimes she even painted stubble on her chin using stage makeup.

She only stole small things – lighters, matches, pocket torches, one-size-fits-all gloves. She was a fast runner and never went back to the same shop a second time.

Then, when the end came, she was lucky: Flora was a boy, with items to trade.

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Another Friday Fictioneers 100-word story, inspired by the picture, provided this week by Rochelle herself. Click here to read other people’s or here to join in. And do let me know what you think about mine.

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Click here to find out about my novel, published early next year by Fig Tree / Penguin in the UK, Tin House in the US, House of Anansi in Canada, and various other publishers around the world.

Flash fiction: Small Talk

November 5, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 75 Comments

Nan imagined sitting for ever in the car beside Viv. Until time deflated the tyres.
‘The weather’s been nice lately,’ Viv said.
The chassis would drop as the axles rusted.
‘Lovely,’ Nan said, looking ahead at the car park.
The rubber wipers would dry and crack, and as the months passed they would melt onto the windscreen.
‘For the time of year,’ she added.
The colour would leach from the paintwork, changing from red to rusty brown.
‘Hmm,’ agreed Viv.
Small animals would make a nest in the boot.
And Nan would find the courage to lean across to Viv and say, ‘Don’t go’.

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Another Friday Fictioners 100-word flash. Click here to read some more. Here to join in. Thanks to Jean L Hayes for the picture. I’d really like to know what you think – constructive criticism, or just a hello – so please do leave a comment.

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And if you like this story, you might like my novel Our Endless Numbered Days, out early next year. Click here to find out more, or here to add it to your Goodreads to-read list.

Flash fiction: The Back of Tom Jones’s Head

October 8, 2014October 10, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 53 Comments

When I was young my father wrote ditties and advertising jingles which he sent off to toiletry manufacturers and record labels. Every one was rejected until the call came from a secretary at Decca records.

My parents went to London, my mother’s hair newly set. ‘We saw the back of Tom Jones’s head,’ she said. ‘And what’s good enough for Mr Jones, is good enough for us.’ My father signed on the dotted line for a no-royalties payment; just sufficient for a summer holiday.

Twenty years later his song – 1973’s Christmas number one – is still hummed by housewives, still crackles from supermarket speakers. My father would have been delighted.

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This 110-word piece of flash fiction is inspired by the picture above as part of the Friday Fictioneers online writing group. We all write 100 words or so from a picture supplied to us weekly by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (and this week provided by Rochelle herself). You can join in here, or read other people’s stories here.

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Next year my novel, Our Endless Numbered Days, will be published by Fig Tree / Penguin in the UK, Tin House in the US, as well as various other publishers in other countries. If you’d like to keep up to date with news about my writing, you can subscribe to my newsletter here. Or, if you’re on Goodreads, you add the novel to your ‘to read’ list here.

Flash fiction: Unknown

October 1, 2014October 1, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 58 Comments

I thought he was a reporter or an evangelist when I saw him through the front door glass. He was holding a book; clinging to it as if it was the thing that kept him from running away.

I put the chain on. ‘Hello?’ I said.

He was about my age, twenty-two, familiar yet unknown. ‘Is my father in?’ he said.

I was confused. ‘I’m sorry, you must have the wrong house,’ I said. He held the book up, my husband’s book, the one that made him famous.

‘Gil Coleman,’ the man said and he tapped the cover with a forefinger. ‘My father.’

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This 103-word piece of flash fiction is inspired by the picture above. It’s rather a leap this week, but the idea that we don’t know what’s on that stick, led me to thinking about other things that are unknown, which led me to my story. Friday Fictioneers is an online writing group where we all write 100 words or so from a picture supplied to us weekly by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (and this week provided by Kent Bonham). You can join in here, or read other people’s stories here.

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In other news, I’ve written a blog post about how I got an agent, which you might be interested to read. And my novel, Our Endless Numbered Days, is now available to pre-order from Amazon in the UK and US, and of course from your local independent bookshop (hopefully).

Flash fiction: Un-telling

September 24, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 63 Comments

The early morning light filters through the empty bottles and stains my nightdress blue, green and red as I lean over the back of a kitchen chair, waiting, breathing. It had been quite some party. I remembered Rex, drunk on happiness, breaking his promise to me, and telling our guests to mark their diaries for seven months when they would be returning for a christening.

So many glasses raised, so many congratulations, so much love.

And now as another cramp grips me, I think about all the un-telling I will have to do, starting with Rex.

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This is a 96-word piece of flash fiction based on the picture prompt above, this week provided by Marie Gail Stratford. It’s part of the Friday Fictioneers group run by Rochelle Wisoff-Field. Rochelle dedicates a great deal of her time each week to uploading, visiting and commenting on all our pieces of writing. To join in with your own story, visit Rochelle’s website here, or to read some of the other stories based on this prompt click here.

Flash fiction: Mirror image II

September 18, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 29 Comments

Julianne regularly said good morning to magpies, would never walk under ladders, and always threw salt over her left shoulder. ‘To blind the devil,’ she said. Sometimes when we sat opposite each other at night outside the kitchen, I thought I saw something there, just behind her.

Despite all her precautions, Julianne was unlucky, or some said clumsy. She broke mirrors, tripped over paving, and electrical appliances would hiss and fuse when she came near.

Everyone said what happened must have been an accident, but they didn’t see what I did: that creature of the half-light staring back at me through the dark kitchen window.

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This is a 105-word piece of flash fiction based on the picture prompt above, this week provided by Dawn Q Landau. It’s part of the Friday Fictioneers group run by Rochelle Wisoff-Field. Rochelle dedicates a great deal of her time each week to uploading, visiting and commenting on all our pieces of writing. To join in with your own story, visit Rochelle’s website here, or to read some of the other stories based on this prompt click here.

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This week I need some help, particularly from US readers. Can you suggest any names of successful US authors of commercial women’s fiction? Not the really famous best-sellers, but those who are fairly well known, with well-received books. Thanks!

Flash fiction: Mirror Image

September 11, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 57 Comments

Flora heard Rex whispering in the bathroom.

‘Dad?’ She knocked on the door. ‘Are you okay?’

‘It’s just your mother,’ her father called.

‘Dad?’ She rattled the handle. ‘Unlock the door, please.’ The bolt was drawn back. Rex, in his dressing gown, led her into the chilly room.

The shower curtain had been pulled across. ‘Look,’ he said, his hand on the edge of the plastic. Flora’s heart leapt. Her father drew back the curtain, revealing an empty bath, cooling water, and on the wall, the large mirror. ‘Do you see her?’ he said.

Flora saw only herself and an old man.

This is a 102-word piece of flash fiction based on the picture prompt above, this week provided by Janet Webb. It’s part of the Friday Fictioneers group run by Rochelle Wisoff-Field. Rochelle dedicates a great deal of her time each week to uploading, visiting and commenting on all our pieces of writing. To join in with your own story, visit Rochelle’s website here, or to read some of the other stories based on this prompt click here.

Baker, Emily and Me

September 1, 2014January 30, 2015 / Claire Fuller / 5 Comments

Last Friday, whilst I was at The End of the Road Festival in Dorset, my short story (Baker, Emily and Me) which won the BBC Radio 4 Opening Lines competition was broadcast. My lovely husband bought me a tiny portable radio just for the occasion, and at a quarter past three we went back to our tent to listen. That was of course a half hour early, so I heard quite a lot of what to do with your climbing hydrangeas on Gardeners’ Question Time before my story came on.

So, here’s a picture of me listening, with the handy camping toilet roll beside me.

If you fancy listening to a 15 minute story it’s available here until Friday. Make sure to let me know what you think. (Although the audio recording was only available for a week, you can read Baker, Emily and Me, on the BBC website.)

Or you can both listen and watch the best band at the festival – St. Paul and The Broken Bones, here.

Just don’t ask me about hydrangeas; I was too excited.

Flash fiction: Parked

August 21, 2014August 21, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 30 Comments

It was a Tuesday when Nanette decided to tackle the garden; two days after she had buried her father. She found a box of tools under the sink, the cardboard falling apart and everything inside rusted. How many years had it sat there she wondered. She drove into town and hired a petrol strimmer, gloves and hat with a visor.

She cut a swathe through from the house to the bank, where it dropped away to the sea. And there, incongruously at the end of the garden, she uncovered her mother’s car. How many years had it sat there she wondered?

For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture, this time from Roger Bultot, is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Each story is only about 100 words long, so why not read a few others: click here to read some more or to join in.

And please comment below with any suggestions on mine, or just to show you’ve visited.

For any US readers who are interested, I’ve recently been able to reveal the North American jacket for my novel, Our Endless Numbered Days, which will be released on 17th March 2015. You can see it here.