Drumming Beat


Stillness begets the fear,

The children wait with baited breath.

The pound of heart awaiting death,

Are joined by drums that make the air clear.

They pound in the deep,

A sound that rocks the dirt beneath their feet.

It continues through the morning, a never ending beat.

That sounds to awakens all from sleep.

Through the screams and rage,

The beating drums carries on.

Until the final man has fallen,

And drummer leaves the bloody stage.




Building Fictional Cultures

pile-of-booksWorldbuilding is essential my bread and butter when it comes to writing.

It’s the bloody plot I hate to write.

And one of my favourite aspect of worldbuilding is creating completely new cultures. But a lot of writers’ struggle with worldbuilding as it can become very overwhelming. So, I’d like to share a method I like to use to start working on the society and cultures.


Five things

  • Five things that can offend someone in this culture.
  • Five ways to flirt with someone in this culture.
  • Five things that are a sign of social power.
  • Five things that are considered beautiful in this culture.
  • Five things that are considered ugly and undesirable in this culture.


Of course, five separated points for each one is just a suggestion but it’s a helpful middle ground. It’s also helpful to remember that cultures are dictated by their surrounding (the weather, animals, ruling power, materials available, etc.).


Happy writing!

Kathy Xx

(I didn’t create this method, but I do apologise because I don’t remember who I heard it from).

All Dogs Go To Heaven And…


“Do you know how long it took to get here?”

Satan was shorter than he was expecting. He hadn’t moved from his throne as Sam marched towards him with the blood of a thousand enemies on his face and clothes.

“I have crossed the river of fire, defeated your minions and destroyed the dead souls that have suffered for millenniums. Show me your best warrior and I will defeat him!”

Satan took his time before speaking, which was good. Sam was trying not to collapse with exhaustion after defeating the giant parrot. He hadn’t been expecting the giant parrot. 

“You have…defeated our greatest warrior.”

“Was it the turtle? Why does the lake of fire need a turtle?” 

“No, it was Tiyanak, the doomed innocent.”

 “What the bitey baby thing?”

 Satan sighed, “yes, the baby thing.”

 “Oh, you really should give that title to the turtle. I mean he’s now dead to be fair but-”

“You have spent a lot of time getting down here. There must be something you want. A lover, a lost family member. Name it and I will grant you their soul as long as you leave and never return.”

 John fished in his pocket for the small blood-stained photo.

 “A cat?”

John looked her and then thrust it back in Satan’s face

“Tibbles’ isn’t normally that red, but you get the idea.”

If John didn’t know any better, he’d say Satan was judging him, like everyone else. He huffed, he did not need to explain himself to the Devil.

“Look do you have Tibbles or not?” 

There was another beat before Satan raised his hand and a portal of fire and horrors erupted. Out of padded Tibbles, unscathed and yowling

Tibs! Come to daddy!”

The fluffy cat ran into his arms and let him brush her singed fur. 

“I know, I know. I came as soon as I could.”

He looked back up at Satan. He was definitely judging him. 

“I’ll…umm…leave the way I came.”

His legs shook and the blood in his hair would take forever to get out but Tibbles meowing made it worth it

Writing Tip: 146#

Most of us have words and phrases we love (I’m in love with the word ‘sometimes). But sometimes you might overuse those words or phrases to the point that it sometimes becomes noticeable. Sometimes, it’s best to keep a list of words and phrases you tend to use often and cut and replace instances throughout your manuscript so that there is enough variety.

Crossed out words



My hands are red. Everything is now. I stumble to the water side.

“Stand down!”

He heard another gunshot but the bullet imploded before it reached him. Like everything else. The ground shakes as my sore feet limp across it, even the air vibrates around me. I look back. I do not care for the army of men and machinery that have followed me to the waters edge but beyond, my road of desecration. Tall skyscrapers have become nothing but crumble dust howling the grey air. Nothing but red remains of the people…or my family.

“Stand down!” a solider repeats. There all shaking.

“For what it worth,” I say slowly, still they flinch and shoot at my words. When the gunfire stops and the wind takes the metal shells away with it I continue, “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry.”

I fall backwards into the water. As I hit it, it explodes upwards boiling me. As I sink further the water burns through my metal and bone leaving nothing but red.