What Was Your Favourite Childhood Book?

Today sees the start of my ‘bucket list’ challenge to re-read my favourite childhood book, ‘The Lord of The Rings.’ I purchased it on my Kindle last year with this intention in mind, but have always found an excuse not to start. Well, no more. I’m holding myself accountable to the good people of WordPress to ensure I don’t renege on my word this time. I’m diving into Tolkien’s world of elves, hobbits and talking trees.

Every week I’ll post an update on my progress, giving my own unique slant on where I’m at and how it compares with when I read it as a wide eyed, naive teenager. For now I am a wide eyed, naive middle aged man. Will it be as magical and captivating as when I first picked it up all those years ago. Or are my memories of Gandalf & Co. viewed through rose tinted spectacles? Has Peter Jackson gone and ruined it all?

Feel free to join me on this epic journey from The Shire to Mount Doom. I’ll tell you all my guilty secrets. Like, how I find hobbits slightly annoying and my irrational love of all things orcish. How elves are a bit dull, despite the best efforts of Evangeline Lily and Cate Blanchett to convince me otherwise. And how Styder is waaaaay cooler than Aragorn despite them being the same person, a concept I never quite got my head around.

I’m off to face what the day has in store for me now. But please leave your comments and thoughts below and I’ll get back to them as soon as I can. Are you a Tolkien fan? Can the film adaptation ever be as good as the book, no matter how many squillions of dollars they throw at it? Why does Hollywood insist on straying from the original text because they know best? The mic is all yours. Enjoy.

My 30 Day Coffee Challenge: Failing Day 1

I read somewhere, or possibly just imagined it, that if you eat or drink a foodstuff you despise for 30 days straight, you will end up liking, or at least be able to tolerate, it. Well, you all know I love a challenge so this was one that had me straining at the leash to attempt. When faced with the food or drink in question, there was only ever going to be one candidate. My arch nemesis, the Moriarty to my Holmes – coffee.

I’ve written in the past about my rollercoaster relationship with coffee. I love the look of it, the smell of it, the whole concept of it. I dream of lounging all day in a cosy cafe, sipping a frappy-cappy espresso whatever, while pretentiously tapping away at a laptop, as I pen my latest bestseller. The one slight fly in the ointment? I hate the taste of the stuff. As in, physically retch the second it touches my taste buds.

Believe me, I’ve tried down the years. I so want to be in the cool coffee quaffing club, but remain the perennial bridesmaid, telling people I’m meeting a friend for a coffee then sadly sipping from my tea or Diet Coke as others load up on espresso shots or assault frothy concoctions piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows. Baristas smile politely and look mildly disappointed whenever I place my order.

Yesterday, I struck out again, more in hope than expectation, on my latest familiarisation programme. It was my first meeting with the other BIG BOSSES in a nearby city centre hotel. I sidled nervously into my seat around the impressive conference table, before the Chief Executive encouraged us to avail of complimentary coffee from a rather complicated looking contraption spouting steam in the corner of the room.

As I edged nearer the front of the queue, I eyed up the machine with some trepidation. It sported an impressive array of buttons. I intently observed those in front of me, determined not to screw up when my moment in the limelight came. There was a BIG BIG BOSS immediately behind me. The back of my neck broke out in a clammy sweat. This was more nerve wracking than the recent job interview itself.

I placed my cup under the ‘tap’, selected cappuccino, the only selection that looked vaguely familiar, and hoped for the best. A creamy looking substance began to fill the cup, before spluttering to a stop near the brim. Feeling rather pleased with myself, I picked up the cup and returned to the conference table. I was a proper adult now, punching my weight with the organisation’s high fliers and go getters. Stephen had finally arrived.

All that abruptly ended, the second I raised the cup to my lips and supped the foul liquid within. I grimaced, swallowed and forced myself to take a second mouthful. I now resembled a constipated water buffalo and was attracting concerned looks from the Head of Corporate Services. I smiled tepidly and pretended to look busy, organising my pens and picking at an imaginary fleck of fluff on my jacket lapel.

After the third torturous attempt I accepted defeat, set the cup aside and slyly opened a can of Diet Coke when nobody was looking. I had fallen at the first hurdle, a Frappuccino fraud of the highest order. Maybe I’ll try beetroot next time, or possibly brussel sprouts. Nothing could be worse than death by caffeine. Failing that, it’s back to the honeycomb ice cream and coconut mushrooms. Oh well….

Bucket List – The Winner

Over the weekend I wrote about 9 ‘things’ I wanted to cross off my bucket list over the next 365 days. Oh hang on, make that 363 days now. Best get my skates on. Although, thankfully, skating wasn’t on the list. Neither the ice nor roller variety. I have all the coordination of a three legged elephant on a wonky skateboard. But, I digress. Let’s get back to the business at hand. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the bucket list.

A number of wicked female bloggers, whose identities I shall not disclose, suggested I cook a three course meal for my family. No problem, I thought. I can turn an oven or microwave on as well as the next man. The cruel caveat, however, was I had to do so from scratch. As in, raw ingredients, stuff like that. There’s stepping out of the boat and there’s being catapulted off the SS Titanic into the icy mid-Atlantic. This challenge is the latter.

Fionnuala was delighted when I broke the news to her. ‘I was going to suggest that myself, but thought you’d sulk’ she smirked. The Women’s Union had struck again and I was doomed. Despite being sorely tempted, I couldn’t find it in myself to delete the offending comments. Plus, I had given the word. I’m afraid I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. The hard place, being the largely alien environment of our kitchen.

It’s time for me to hit the books. The recipe books, that is. Starter, main meal and dessert. All from scratch. If anyone has any suggestions, then please feel free to comment below. Preferably with a recipe and easy to follow diagrams. Imagine you’ve been asked to show a caveman how to start a fire and you’re close. That’s the level we are pitching this at. In the meantime all prayers and/or positive thoughts are much appreciated.

Help Me With My Bucket List

I turned 49 today. I know, I know, I don’t look a day over 39 you silver tongued charmers. I’ve had a fantastic day with the family, received some lovely presents and eaten far too much. Back running again tomorrow in order to burn off the 49 million calories I consumed today. Thank you to those of you who sent birthday greetings and/or participated in my birthday related posts throughout the week.

Over pizza this afternoon, Fionnuala and the kids challenged me to compile a bucket list of ’10 things’ I want to do before I hit the dreaded big 50 in 365 days time. For, truth be told, I am dreading it a bit. I’ve achieved a lot but I still believe there is a lot more left in the tank. I’ve made progress but the road ahead stretches over the horizon and out of sight. I still feel like that awkward 15 year old.

Here’s what I’ve come up with:

1. Run my 10th marathon.

2. Succeed in my new job.

3. Publish my first novel, ‘The Kirkwood Scott Chronicles: Skelly’s Square.’

4. Write Book 2 in the KSC series.

5. Complete my Wattpad story, ‘Bomb Girl.’

6. Read The Bible and The Lord of the Rings from cover to cover.

7. Get A Fractured Faith to 20,000 followers.

8. Bench press a minimum of 60kg.

9. Create a new look front garden.

And yes, I realise that’s only nine goals. Which is where you lot come in. I’m inviting suggestions for a 10th and final suggestion for the bucket list. Just drop a comment below. I’ll let you know if it’s a possibility and announce the ‘winner’ next week. And sorry for over egging the birthday celebrations. It’s just WordPress has been desperately quiet of late and I’m trying to inject a smidgeon if interaction and community.

Thank you, as ever.

It’s My Birthday….Well Almost #2

Tomorrow, if I’m honest. But I’m going to continue a series of blogs where I attempt to give back to the WordPress community. This isn’t about me, it’s about us. WordPress has played a big part in turning my life around, setting me back on track, and ensuring I stay on the straight and narrow. It is one of many anchors I’m grateful to have, which keep me steady when buffered by life’s many storms.

But enough of waxing lyrical. Onto the main business. I’m want to write YOUR story. Send me your ideas and I will turn it into a short story which I will then post exclusively on the blog. It can be any genre. Just forward me a brief pitch and, if it grabs me, I’ll work on it and develop it into a tall tale. I’m a fantasy writer but I’m willing to give other genres a go.

Send me your ideas!

Flash Fiction Challenge

I sporadically issue Flash Fiction writing challenges based around discarded till receipts I find during my travels around the shops of Belfast. Today’s is a true conundrum. Who would purchase a fruit peeler and then buy ‘prepared’ fruit? As in, already peeled, diced, sliced etc. Doesn’t that negate the need for a peeler? The plot thickens almost as readily as the mind boggles.

The rules are simple as there aren’t really any. There is no word limit and the only other limit is your imagination. Just base your story on the receipt and the person who bought it. If you’re taking part, I would ask that you namecheck our blog. Also feel free to reblog to your own community. There are no prizes, other than my undying gratitude for taking part. Let the Flash Fiction challenge begin!

Flash Fiction Challenge

Feeling a little creative today? Well let your fingers do the talking then. A few weeks ago I told you of my interest (some might call it weird fascination) with discarded till receipts in shops. I would look at them and then imagine the life of the person who had made the relevant purchase. What sort of day were they having? Where were they headed? And with who? To do what?

The last challenge provoked some great pieces of writing and I hope todays will as well. Apologies for the tatty receipt. It has been living the back pocket of my jeans for a few days now. I know. Gross. But for those struggling to read it the person in question bought:

  • 1 packet of Fox’s Glacier Mints
  • 24 pack of Diet Coke (cans)
  • £20 of diesel (gasoline)
  • Hmmmmm. Interesting. Looks like someone was planning a road trip. And a man or woman after my own heart regarding their love of Diet Coke. And as for the mints? Well, somebody wanted to freshen up their breath for some reason. The plot thickens? Have I got your creative juices flowing? Are you up for the challenge. There are no rules. All I ask is you give this blog a shout out in your related post.
  • Your pieces can be as long or short as you want and I’ll reblog the best ones. Let me know what you think. Happy writing!
  • Are you up for today’s flash fiction challenge?
  • Flash Fiction Challenge

    So there I was at the self service check-out yesterday purchasing my body weight in Diet Coke and waiting for the receipt. I refuse to walk out of the store without it for fear that the long arm of the law will collar me, accuse me of theft and I’ll be hauled off to the nearest police cell quicker than you can shout ‘But honestly officer. The receipt is sitting on the counter if you’ll only just let me……AAAARGHHHH……… those handcuffs really chafe!’

    As the check-out spewed forth said proof of purchase I noticed that not all of my fellow customers were as paranoid as yours truly. There were half a dozen discarded receipts lying in front of me. It struck me. I wonder who made these varied purchases and then wandered out of the store back to the trials and tribulations of their everyday lives? What kind of days were they having? What kind of lives?

    I am an avid people watcher. It must go hand in hand with commuting to and from work every day. When I was on Twitter, back in the day, I ran a daily series called ‘Train Tweets’ where I created imaginary lives for the regulars who shared the 7:13 express to Belfast with me. I was the original geek on a train until Hollywood turned me into Emily Blunt. Serial killers, angry solicitors and Arsene Wenger lookalikes. We had it all on the 7:13.

    Earlier this week I was educated as to what ‘flash fiction’ is. A light bulb popped on in my head as I realised I write a lot about writing fiction on the blog but don’t actually write a lot of fiction on the blog. Did that last sentence make sense? I sincerely hope so. For otherwise you might struggle with the rest of this post. Which would be a terrible shame for everyone concerned. Most of all me. But also for all you lot.

    Because….

    I have a challenge for you all. Should you choose to accept it, in true Mission Impossible style. Below are two of the receipts that I ‘borrowed’ from the Tesco empire. All you have do is write a piece of prose describing a day in the life of the person who made the purchase. Oh….and post it on WordPress. If this takes off then I will run it on the blog as an occasional feature. If not, then I will probably sulk for a day or two but then forgive you all and we can awkwardly agree that this was a terrible idea that should never have seen the light of day in the first place.

    Over to you now. Gauntlet thrown. If you choose to accept the challenge then feel free to name check fracturedfaithblog on your accompanying post. If not, then at least leave a comment and say hello. We can talk about the weather. Or maybe the extortionate £2:50 that Tesco charge for a coffee. And what’s a San Pellegino anyway? I had to Google it. Sparkling mineral water apparently. Hmmmmm. Somebody must have had a sore head.

    So What Are You Going To Do About It?

    I’m lying in bed. Not the most glamorous image to start your day I appreciate but bear with me. I’m still sore from the 20 mile run on Saturday. I’m also tired and I’m struggling to throw off the duvets and start another day. I’m off work (hurrah) but there is still so much to do. I’m scheduled to run a 10K (a so called recovery run meant to loosen me up after the 20 miler but right now it sounds like the death match from hell). My legs don’t want to propel me out of bed let alone out into the roads outside where I have to say it sounds a bit squally as I lie here typing.

    I’m also working towards completing 10,000 words on the novel over the Easter break. I use the word ‘break’ in the loosest possible sense of the word. The first draft is currently sitting at around 80,000 words and is about two thirds complete. After that begins the hell of editing, proofing and worse still allowing a selected few to read it. I think I’m dreading that bit the worst. It’s akin to throwing your new born baby to a pack of starving, feral dogs. Sorry for the disturbing image but it is.

    Oh did I forget to mention that I’m a father and husband. Old, selfish Stephen would have swept those trivial responsibilities under the carpet a few, short years ago. I tended to airbrush all that on my social media platforms as it was all about me after all, right? Well, no. They are my foundations upon which everything else is built. Without them the whole house of cards comes tumbling to the ground. Without them there is no running, there is no writing. Just me, broken and bloodied under the rubble of what used to be my life.

    There are practical matters to attend to. Rebeca is going on a school trip to Scotland later this month so I need to venture up into the swirling vortex that is our roof space in search of a hold-all for her. It’s two weeks away but she wants to start packing now. Her mother has trained her well. If I’m not back in an hour call for Indiana Jones. No, on second thoughts, make that Lara Croft. The Angelina Jolie version, not that new girl. We watched Skull Island, the latest Kong movie, yesterday. I’m now frightened to venture into the roof space for the love of God.

    There’s also the small matter of preparing for a meeting with the Education Authority later this week over proposed plans to close Hannah’s school; other issues regarding her still inadequate transport to and from school; trying to drag my lazy son out for a training session when he’d much rather spend his Easter holidays glued to his Play Station (because becoming a professional rugby player is just going to fall into his lap obviously); and the million and one household tasks that Fionnuala has quite rightly been asking me to carry out for only the last nine years or so.

    To say we are a busy family is something of an understatement. You think my itinerary is nuts, then try checking out Fionnuala’s. It cray cray. But we keep going. Because there’s nothing else to do right? Well at least that’s how I deal with it all. I might not be the most talented writer or runner but one thing is for certain is that I won’t quit. Maybe I have my OCD and anxiety to thank for that. Mental health truly is a double edged sword. I’ve seen others with far greater ability than mine fall by the wayside. Why? Only they can answer that.

    All I can say is that you shouldn’t give up. Not now and not ever. Don’t be that person sitting in their armchair aged eighty wondering ‘what if?’. Don’t be that person who gave in the doubting voices, most of all the voice in their own head. You’re not good enough, you’ll never get there and so on ad nauseum. Don’t be that person who got knocked down once too often and just lay there, refusing to get up. Get up! Get up for those who believe in you. And what’s more get up for those that didn’t believe in you.

    So congratulations. You’ve got this far and you’re either thinking that Irish guy is a moron or maybe he’s got a point. If it’s the former then no hard feelings and thanks for making it this far. Close the door behind you on the way out. But if my Easter Monday rant has sown a seed in your mind then, well, what are you going to do about it? You have dreams, you have plans. Well how about today you take that first step towards making them a reality. Prove them all wrong. Prove yourself wrong. Start today. Join me. Make it happen.

    So what are you going to do about it? What are your plans for the rest of 2018?

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