PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
There is a seat, a special seat. I won’t say where that diner is, or you’ll hunt out the chair. Sit in it and the world goes kinda flickery, customers fade to wraiths. A sensation in the pit of your stomach like an express elevator, and then you’re there, whenever you feel you want to belong.
For me the destination is always 1953 – happy and obedient children, proud and diligent families, genial neighbours, convertibles with chrome and fins. For Paul, 1965 and a supercilious cook giving him that look, hissing “no negroes.”
Fancy sharpening your skill with writing exercises? The Scrivener’s Forge offers a new exercise every month to hone one aspect of your craft. Take a look at this month’s exercise on character and world-building.