It all started with a lie...

Plus Reading Poetry news and our members shared their work this week.

Photo by Taras Chernus on Unsplash

It all started with a lie…

That was the prompt I set for Prompt-Write Night on July 9th. In last week’s newsletter I threatened to share what I came up with on the night. Here it is:

It all started with a lie…

Robbie Merton didn't want to think about his current predicament. He tried to slow his breathing and clear his mind. He focused only on counting, trying to lengthen the count from 3 to 5 to 7 as he exhaled, then repeating on the inhale. He concentrated on the circular path of his breath: in through the nose, the hot air filling his lungs and expanding his diaphragm before returning, escaping more slowly still through the tiniest of gaps in each corner of his mouth. He didn't want to think about why he couldn't open his mouth properly to breath out.

He could open his eyes, but to no effect. Everything was pitch black. Everything completely silent, too. He tried to shift position but a bolt of shocking pain ran through his arms, shoulders and upper back. The pain cut through the momentary calm he'd only just achieved and he pushed back once more against the restraints at his wrists and ankles. He railed against the injustice of finding himself here, in this position, in this place, on this day. He tried to channel that rage against the person who had done this to him, but as he writhed and he strained and he screamed silently into the gag, he realised he was punishing only himself. He'd done this to himself, in a way.

What if he'd come up with a different answer? Where would he be now? Could he yet negotiate his way out of this? What appeal could he construct, what propitiations could he make to have all of this just disappear? And to whom could he make them? As he stilled his sweat-soaked body, as the pain subsided slightly and his breathing slowed once more, he realised he was alone. For how long had he been here, struggling in the dark, and for how much longer?

He thought of the hopes he'd had for his future. Of the possibilities, the potential he'd thought he was about to realise. He thought of the decisions he'd made that had led him to this, the opportunities he'd had to make a different choice, to take a different route. To give a different answer. But he hadn't chosen differently and so, here he was. There was no way out. He sobbed, slowly at first, then harder, his body racked with pain once more as his shackles tightened against his cries.

As the hopelessness of his situation sank in, he realised there was nothing to be done. He had to accept responsibility for his actions, there was no one to blame but himself. There was no argument to be made to extricate himself from where he was. Even if she returned, he couldn't reason his way out of a situation he hadn't reasoned his way into, so he would just have to accept his fate and learn from it.

Next time, it'll be different, he told himself. Next time I'm on a blind date and she asks if I'm adventurous in bed, I'm just going to tell the truth and say no.

I think it’s a loss of innocence story. So I tried to structure it as though Robbie were grieving for that loss. Each of the five paragraphs before the closing one moves him through the the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief.

Does it work?

Member News

Back in June The East Reading Festival, in Palmer Park, included a spoken word stage with storytelling and poetry readings as usual. Amongst the performers were Caversham Writers’ Gill Passman and the Legend That is Richard Stephenson, here pictured reading Gill’s work “The Ashes”.

You can regularly watch the two read their poetry at Dreading Slam in the Rising Sun Arts Centre on the first Sunday of each month.

For more details of these and other poetry events check out their Meetup group Reading Poetry Writing Meetup.

The more eagle-eyed among you might notice that I am listed as the Organiser of that group. This is a recent development, but a nominal one only. As I explained to the poets when I took over:

“Due to the increased fees on Meetup.com, Richard Stephenson was going to drop the group from the platform and run it on Facebook only. But as the Organiser of Caversham Writers, I am permitted to run 2 other groups for the same membership fee. As I have no plans to take Caversham Writers off Meetup, I suggested to Richard that I could keep the group's presence ongoing here at no extra cost.

So I'm now the official Organiser of Reading Poetry Writing Group, but it is in name only. Richard Stephenson still functionally runs the group as Co-Organiser and the rest of the leadership team remains in place.”

So if you have an interest in poetry, especially performance poetry, please do check out the group and their fabulous events, which are all in person in Reading - no Zoom!

(You can also help me with the fees mentioned above - just Buy Me A Coffee!)

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This Week's Meeting

Writeshare Night - Read Your Work To The Group

This event has always been very popular with our overseas members and as such it has typically been hold online via Zoom. Just for a change, we had Writeshare Night in person at Fourbears Books this week for only the second time.

The usual agenda for this one was followed - members get up to 10 minutes to read something to the rest of the group and then we all have a chat about what we’ve just heard.

This week we heard from Louise, with a chapter from her ongoing serial killer story. We met Irene, the mother of our serial killer’s therapist, hospitalised with only a month to live. I was so impressed by how Louise gave us such a fully-realised character in Irene, we got a real sense of just who she is, how forthright and alive she is. All the more shocking when it’s revealed that Irene is so ill and close to death that she cannot communicate, cannot speak. That inner monologue and world was all Irene has left. I especially loved a ‘game recognises game’ moment when serial killer Izzy enters the scene as Irene’s nurse. Very well-conceived and executed.

Amy shared a poem she wrote recently for Deadlines for Writers 12 poems in 12 Months challenge. Set a one word prompt for this month - ‘Like’ - Amy went with a narrator chasing likes on social media, to her own and her family’s detriment. I especially liked (geddit?) a line following the narrator continually refreshing her screen, waiting for likes: "I don't feel refreshed."

I freely admit to recognising the compulsion to check for the dopamine hit of likes and comments - it’s an act of will to stop myself from refreshing Substack on Friday afternoons to see how many of you have liked or commented on this newsletter. Not enough, is usually the answer - help me out here, folks, feed the beast!

By the way, Amy thought this Free Poetry Class run by Deadlines for Writers on 24th July might be of interest to some of you:

Mary picked up on the theme from Amy’s poem and ran with it by sharing a poem she self-published a while ago called When the iCloud Rains. It imagines a world when technology inevitably fails (when the iCloud rains) and people rediscover an analogue world of remembering things for themselves. Describing how maps will once again be incomplete and the world uncharted, Mary uses the phrase that once appeared on old charts showing regions as yet undiscovered: "There will be dragons."

I deplore and despise the frequent and dangerous weaponization of nostalgia by so many duplicitous shits in the public sphere, so it was lovely to be reminded that it can also betoken a genuine, hopeful, innocent outlook on life. Thank you, Mary.

Finally, Emily read a flash fiction short story titled (apologies if I didn’t write this down correctly, Emily) ‘Disco-Neck-Ted.’ The title refers to the nickname of the main character, who as a child loved to dance and had a signature move of his neck as he did so. I felt the story could have been subtitled 'Finding Your Feet' as the theme seemed to involve Ted learning about his place in the world as he finds a way to use dance to find meaning and purpose (and become Co-Neck-Ted in the process?) It was a really evocative and poignant piece, cramming so much into its 1000 words.

Well done to all who shared, and thank you to everyone attending for a thoughtful and constructive discussion around each piece.

Next Week's Meeting

Write Night: Your Work in Progress (Online event)

Wednesday, July 23, 2025 7:00 PM to 9:00 PM BST

This writing session is a chance for you to work on (or start) a project of your own. It's your space and time to use as you wish.

This event will be online via Zoom, register to attend on Meetup to get the link:

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Free To Join, Free To Attend

As you know Caversham Writers is free to join and free to attend and I want it to remain so. That doesn’t mean it is free to run, though. I organise the group meetings on Meetup.com who have seen fit to double the fees paid by group organisers over the last year.

This has led to many groups shutting down or moving platform. I like to think of Caversham Writers as a local group with a global reach and I want us to remain open to voices from all over the world. Meetup provides that global reach so I intend to stay there, but would welcome any contributions toward the costs of running the group.

So if you enjoy this free newsletter and our weekly free events, please consider helping out by buying me a coffee at the link below.