Elaine Ruth White
Bio
Hi. I'm a writer who believes that nothing is wasted! My words have become poems, plays, short stories and novels. My favourite themes are mental health, art and scuba diving. You can follow me on www.words-like-music, Goodreads and Amazon.
Stories (35/0)
A fête worse than death
I'll be completely honest with you: the Radbury annual summer fête is a pompous, up-its-own-bottom, farce of a ritual that reduces the 400 or so inhabitants of this quiet, English country village from dignified, well-to-do folk, to a bunch of desperately neurotic toadies. And even though, every year, I swear I will take myself away to some far-flung, exotic place until the whole nonsensical hoo-ha is over …
By Elaine Ruth White3 years ago in Fiction
Happiness is ... a papercut
If I spoke to you of powerful cocktails, you might believe my happiness lies in a glass of a well-mixed alcoholic beverage. But you would be wrong. Well, maybe not totally wrong, I love the art and science involved in the making of a perfect Tequila Sunrise or a Blue Daiquiri, but that isn't the kind of cocktail I'm referring to here. What I'm talking about is the potent blend of dread and despair that used to face me in the form of the blank page, and how I chanced upon the sheer, surreal, creative joy of paper cutting.
By Elaine Ruth White3 years ago in Humans
Working wordsmiths (1)
I love being a writer! Over the years I have written everything from a press release to get a politician out of the poop to a libretto for an award-winning opera. I have adapted novels for the stage, and written monologues for radio. But though I’ve often used the word, I have never been a scribe.
By Elaine Ruth White3 years ago in Journal
Resilient Creature
Mid-August, but Edinburgh is cold tonight. If I had half a wit, I would cling to my layers, seek the warmth of a wee bar, the cosy hum of revellers. If I’d an ounce of the common, I would merge into the midst of the well-pashed and pissheads, soak up their energy, blend in, merge, disappear. Instead, I stand in the street beyond the elliptical glow of a streetlamp, the chill stone pavement sucking heat from my bare feet.
By Elaine Ruth White3 years ago in Humans