Aoife Clare

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Are you interested in Psychology, Philosophy, Archaeology and our place in the Universe?  My URBAN FANTASIES combine these topics in worlds that really aren't that hard to imagine.  You will find ROMANCE as well in both my Adult and Young Adult  novels.

'When the Sun is a distant memory, no-one is safe' - read more of my recent short story SUNLESS

"You can tell they're not human. They're too small and they scuttle, sideways like crabs." Check out more of my book excerpt: MAZES

I regularly update my blog with short stories, writing tips and poems. Please take a look, I value your feedback.

There's so much more to all of us than what we can see or touch. Expect a bit of psychic intrigue and some exploration of the subconsciousness and some scary stuff too along with a good dollop of romance of course.

EASY RECALL WRITING TIPS - The Famous Five - one of the most powerful tools for any writer, and don't forget the elusive sixth! Read more 

 

23 August 2010
Well what an amazing Conference. I made two successful pitches to an Editor and an Agent for two of my books so now to get to work to tidy them up and send them off. Fortunately they are accepting submissions by e-mail so need for that wretched postal performance with the self addressed envelopes to the States.

16 August 2010

Please find below an excellent example of REFRESHING THE FAMILIAR per the August exercise from my monthly newsletter. Thank you Carol Isaacson. Very nice crafting. A chilling scenario. I've suggested to Carol that she extend this into a full short story. You may recognise some of this in a publication some time soon...

She wandered through the house, everything was ready, he would be home soon and she was looking forward to his return. The children were fed, bathed and either in bed or diligently doing their homework in their rooms as was to be expected. The kitchen was gleaming, the benches glowing with reflected light, just as he had designed it. The fridge free of childish paintings and notes from school thrummed gently, inside sat his favourite meal and a bottle of chilled champagne to celebrate his latest, and no doubt successful, business deal. The laundry was spotless, all the clothes were washed, dried, ironed and each item of clothing neatly folded and colour coded in their respective wardrobes.In the living room a fire burned in the fire place and each cushion was in it's prescribed place on the sofas. The tray of drinks and one glass sat on the coffee table next to a stack of newspapers and magazines carefully positioned within easy reach of the single armchair that dominated the room. With a shudder she realised the chair was slightly out of position.  How had that happened? How had she not noticed? She quickly moved it back into place with a sigh of relief. Everything was in it's place and all would soon be well with the world when he returned home to a her special welcome. She felt the comforting weight in her pocket, yes all would finally be well when he returned home.

She glanced at the clock, he would be here in perhaps 5 more minutes, and in doing so caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. Turning her head from side to side she was satisfied that the swelling and bruising had faded well enough to be hidden by her make up. She heard the taxi draw up and her heart began to beat faster. At the sound of his key in the lock she slipped her hand into her pocket, her finger found the trigger and she slipped the safety catch off.

Yes all would finally be well in just a few seconds.

1 July 2010

Below find the exercise I refer to in my July newsletter. Thank you Arlene. This whole episode is presented from the Point of View of just one character but the reader gets the impression of a crowd within just three paragraphs.

POINT OF VIEW - exercise from Arlene Weinberg

The tall, blonde woman gave a delighted cry.  “Babs, darling!” Puckering up, she bent way, way down to Barbara.  Desperate to do the right thing, Barbara raised herself onto the tips of her toes.  The blonde’s fire-engine lips smacked the air about two inches to the left of her hostess’s cheek.  Barbara found her own lips and nose squashed halfway up the side of the woman’s alabaster neck.

The man beside her beamed.  “Barbara, my dear.  Hermione has been on at me, wanting to meet you.  When we heard that Jeffrey had come back from Africa with a little bride in tow, the wives’ club already had you signed up with a bridge partner!” He slapped Jeffrey on the shoulder.  Barbara blinked like a somewhat myopic fawn while her mind fumbled for a suitable response.  She had never met either of them before.  The force of such effusiveness washed their names from her consciousness. 

Jeffrey, meanwhile, had answered the door again.  The sharp London air catapulted in another salvo of strangers.  They were all tall, frightfully posh and oozing with bonhomie.  Jeffrey was suddenly taller and more jovial than she’d ever seen him and seemed to be speaking in code with these lawyers and their wives.  Oblivious, he circulated, offering their guests wine.  Barbara felt marooned in a sea of small talk. “Africa, yes...the Queen’s English...the colonies, yes...civilisation, ha ha...”  She thought her cheekbones would crack.

W.I.P. The Pyre Song; I envision this related to some future work. I'll be adding verse and ideas and extracting over time - you can view this evolving at this site:

Who am I?
I am but one
Flung to burn
And in turn burning.
Whose will have I done?

• POEM: Planet Graffiti

    Messages are wide world hinted;
    Sand, dry feathered on the wet.
    Foam in tidal shallows scribbled,
    Starlight morsed. The moon imprinted,
    Silver tracked where the sun has set.

    Watch the way things fly and fall;
    Cards and petals, water, pebbles.
    Read the leaves the wind has scattered -
    Signals on a mud stained wall.