More Free Fiction

On Monday I promised to post part 2 and 3 of my story about a man I called Barry Davies. If you missed part 1 then I suggest you read it first. Here’s a quick link to it. And don’t forget you can get a free copy of my collection of short stories ‘Prompt Responses’ simply by giving me your e-mail address in a comment below. If you are worried about a robot picking up your e-mail address and using it to send you a load of spam, write [at] instead of @ and [dot] instead of . Remembering Barry … Continue reading More Free Fiction

Free Fiction

Here, for a change, I’m sharing a story I wrote a couple of years ago. It began with a prompt about the wind whistling through an open, or broken, window. I thought about an abandoned inn and some people who might have frequented it in the past. Today I give you part 1 of the story which is in 3 parts. Parts 2 and 3, which are shorter, will be posted together on Wednesday 7th December. Meanwhile, if you want to read more of my stories you can purchase my collection, Prompt Responses at $0.99 from by clicking here. … Continue reading Free Fiction

Five Reasons I Love Historical Fiction | The Wolfe’s (Writing) Den

Originally posted on writerchristophfischer:
Source: Five Reasons I Love Historical Fiction | The Wolfe’s (Writing) Den Five Reasons I Love Historical Fiction by J.C. Wolfe | July 27, 2016 | Blog, Creative Writing | 0 comments If you read my recent post about the progress on my 2016 reading goals, you may have noticed I’ve been reading a lot of period fiction this year, and it’s really been inspiring my fascination with history! I love reading stories set in the past for much the same reason I enjoy science fiction and fantasy: they show me a world I could never… Continue reading Five Reasons I Love Historical Fiction | The Wolfe’s (Writing) Den

Third Person

A cameo suggested by The Writing Reader’s exhortation to write about the night before the morning after. Joanna tried to remember when it all went wrong. Was there a single moment, or was it the culmination of a series of small events, insignificant in themselves but building to create, first, suspicion, and, then, the certainty, that Carl was no longer the man she had married? It was supposed to have been a night to celebrate five years since their first date. A candle-lit dinner in a quiet corner of their favourite restaurant. Why did he have to invite Celia? His … Continue reading Third Person

Home – what does it mean to you?

This post was suggested by The Writing Reader’s prompt #1753, the first line of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. Last night I dreamed I was back in Urishay, a small community of farms and cottages in the hills above the Golden Valley, close to the Black Mountains that mark the border between England and Wales. I was a babe in arms when I first arrived there with my mother and grandmother. It was to be my home for the next 14 years. Our cottage had thick walls of local stone. A stream ran in a deep ravine with two waterfalls behind … Continue reading Home – what does it mean to you?

Is ‘The General Reader’ a Mythical Creature?

The other day I read an interesting blog post by a literary agent. Although originally produced in December 2015, it had been shared on March 20th in The Writing Reader’s ‘Carnival of Creativity‘. In the post, originally published on Jane Friedman’s blog, Rebecca Faith Heyman contends that too many writers have no idea who their audience is. When asked, they are apt to respond with a sentence containing the phrase ‘every reader’. Every reader, she insisted, does not exist. He or she is a myth. I beg to differ – although I would substitute ‘general reader’ for ‘every reader’. “In … Continue reading Is ‘The General Reader’ a Mythical Creature?


The writers’ group set the prompt “The flashing blue light”. Here is my take on that, a tale of someone waiting for the proverbial ‘tap on the shoulder’, the fear that his crime will be discovered. Terror The flashing blue light penetrated the fabric of the blind and bounced around the walls of the small room. I felt a shiver run down my back. Something hard rose in my gut. Sweat prickled my brow. It was stupid, I knew, but I could not help it. No matter how hard I tried, the memory would not leave me. And whenever I … Continue reading Terror