Tag: violets

Illustrating "Violets" – Bringing Your Story to Life

The Fairy Ring Contest is finally over and, despite the fact I have lapsed into a semi-comatose state, it was easily one of the most rewarding writing experiences of my life. I met dozens of new writers and saw old friends create literary magic of their own.

I was awed by the willingness of all these creative people to donate their time, energy and brilliance to my little contest. One of these creators is Tina Ramey, an extremely talented designer.

Tina kindly donated an illustrated PDF to the winner of The Fairy Ring Twitter #FanFav contest, Ruth Long (@bullishink) and her entry “The Scourge of Clan Bethmoora”.

Check out the amazing job Tina did (jpeg of first page):

Tina found appropriate artwork, contacted the artist for permission and did a magnificent layout of Ruth’s story.

I was so charmed by the beauty of this work, I asked Tina pretty please for a illustration of “Violets”, my own Fairy Ring entry. She sent me this loveliness (jpeg of first page):

I loved it so much I wanted to offer her services to my writer friends. Tina has put together a page detailing her services; she has a short fiction special rate offered (see comments below) for Fairy Ring writers and fans of my blog. She can assist with all your digital publication needs, whether it be a tiny piece of flash fiction or your NaNoWriMo novella.

At only $15 for a 2 page flash fiction, you can’t afford not to have a great-looking presentation for your short fiction for your blog or portfolio site! Go see Tina and get your own pages of loveliness.

The Fairy Ring Writing Contest Submission – Anna Meade

In the interests of being fair, I offer up to you my own submission to The Fairy Ring Writing Contest. I can’t win, of course, but I wanted to share my humble effort as I believe all writers are in this together. I hope you enjoy.
Violets by Anna Meade
“I want a man who’ll twine violets in my hair.”
I wrote this sentence and then doodled violets in the journal margin. My whimsy would be the death of me. My days were spent on the outskirts of the woods behind my parents’ home, sprawled under a tree on a faded blue-check blanket, barefoot and hair-tumbled and romantic poetry-addled.
I rolled onto my back, staring at the late summer sky. My too-long skirt tangled round my legs, so I sat up to extricate myself. The shadow fell over me then.
I squinted up at him in the sun, “Hello.”
He smiled and put a finger to his lips. His step barely stirred the grass. He took me by the hand to his bower, where we supped on honeysuckle and blackberries. 
“Every day I am with you feels like a year,” said I, idly leaning against his shoulder.
He smiled, so tenderly, and wound flowers through my curls.
His hands were gentle and his kisses were poignant. I stayed awake as long as I could, but my traitor eyelids fell. I slept so heavy, filled with ambrosia and dreams, and when I woke all the forest was in the chill grip of autumn.
I shivered and hurried back towards the edge of the woods, back to my parents’ home. I ran to the door and pounded, “Mother! Father! I’m back!”
The door opened and a startled wrinkle-raisined face peered back at me. “Are you looking for someone, child?”
I stumbled backwards and ran towards the forest, heedless of my way. I found my tree and beneath it, mostly buried in the dirt, I unearthed the smallest fragment of paper. It was weather-faded and nearly illegible, but I knew what it said:
“I want a man who’ll twine violets in my hair.”
Painting by John William Waterhouse; Photography by Andrew Kuykendall