Author Karen Wolfe spreads her writing talents across a wide range. Although she has four novels to her name - two comic fantasy & two comic crime (with dogs) - when asked if she has a favourite genre, she notes a preference for writing short pieces, saying, ‘Flash fiction is one of my favourite genres.’
Two things that characterise Karen’s writing
are dogs and humour. She admits to being an inveterate eavesdropper and notes
that, ‘Other people’s conversations can be literary gold.’
The first extract is a flash fiction chiller:
Killing The Light
Sunshine penetrates Millicent Codd’s bedroom, sneaking through a tiny gap in the curtains. It’s young, pale, inexperienced, but keen to shine.
Slipping over the windowsill,
inspired by the challenge of ice on the inside, it ventures further, spreading
itself around. Daring, it touches Millicent’s cold face, and recoils.
Millicent’s eyes snap open.
They burn with fury. She sits up, glaring into the intruding brightness…and
still the innocent sunshine pokes around, illuminating dark, hidden corners,
beaming and thawing as it goes. But it hasn’t a chance against Millicent. Her
feet hit the icy lino, and she’s across the room in an instant, swishing the
curtains together, snuffing it out.
No light. There must be no
light. And most certainly no warmth. Slipping back into bed, she strokes
David’s stiff, frigid brow.
‘There now,” she whispers,
“cold and dark again, my darling…just the way we like it’
***
The second extract focuses on Karen’s love of dogs. She writes a regular canine column in a local newspaper, The Hornsea Community News, and is an active member of the Hornsea Dog Owners’ Club. Her articles aim to be informative and touch on serious topics but her style is light and humorous. ‘I have a Thing with dogs,’ she tells me. ‘Quite often, we exchange glances, and an understanding passes between us.’
Small dog SYNDROME
The everyday
scenario unfolds. There we’ll be, me and dogs, following our usual route, let’s
say we’re walking up Witty’s Passage, when from somewhere nearby there’ll be an
outbreak of frenzied yapping, accompanied by shrieks of: “POPPY! STOP IT! No!
Be NICE....” My dogs will roll their eyes: we’ll look at each other and sigh, knowing
what’s round the corner.
Sure
enough, we will then come upon a harassed, red-faced woman ( sad to say that it
usually is a woman ) pressed up against the nearest wall/hedge/fence
whilst desperately trying to restrain some pint-sized monster intent on
shredding everything in sight. Said pet, about the size of a domestic cat, will
usually turn out to be a terrier or a hybrid Something-Poo. It will also, whatever
the weather and however thick its fur, be wearing an embarrassing coat, or maybe
a novelty bandanna. It will be tenuously attached to an extendable lead, or a
no-control harness. My dogs, heard it all before, will walk on, unimpressed,
but that won’t stop Ms Gobby, who’s out for a set-to. Hackles up, teeth bared,
gargling defiance and snapping wildly at the nearest target (quite often the
owner’s legs) ‘Well, come on, Big Boy! Do
ya feel lucky???’
I’ll
often get an accusing glare. “She’s scared
of big dogs!” (well, no, love, she plainly isn’t) or failing that, the
owner will attempt negotiations. “Poppy. POPPY! Nicely!... Sit! Wait! Lie down!
BISCUIT!” ( Interesting, but futile, given that the only two words Poppy recognises
are her name and ‘biscuit.’) This might sound amusing, but it’s not, because it
doesn’t have to be like that. Welcome to the reality of Small Dog Syndrome.
How do these
situations come about? Is it that all
small breeds are snappy, antisocial have-a-go fiends? Of course not. Chihuahua,
Yorkie, or Pomeranian, Wolfhound, Westie or Tibetan Mastiff, a dog is a dog is
a dog. But each breed does have its unique characteristics: Chihuahuas make
terrific ‘alert’ dogs, miniature Schnautzers and Pomeranians tend to be extremely
vocal and quite territorial, while Jack Russells, bred as ratters, are brave,
feisty little creatures who will stand their ground. Some dogs are gobby, but
that doesn’t have to mean aggressive.
And
neither does small=horrible. Human beings are hard-wired (or should be) to
protect the small and vulnerable. So of course, you take no risks with your cute,
big-eyed fluffball. There’s a big, bad world out there, and she’s soooo tiny! Problems
begin when you forget that she’s a dog. Carry her everywhere, she’ll lap it up!
Let her up beside you while you watch Corrie...share your bed with her, pick
her up whenever another dog approaches, just in case. Wrong! Wrong, because
you’ve raised her profile. She’s now become your equal, no, pack-leader, and she’s
in charge! Which does her no favours at all. Dogs, large or small, are
world-class opportunists: if they can get away with it, they will. And if they keep getting away with it, you’ve got
yourself a problem, or more likely, a syndrome.
Meanwhile, back in
the alleyway: Poppy may well be scared of bigger dogs. But if that’s true, then
she has no confidence in her owner to sort out the problem. Therefore it’s down
to Poppy to protect both of them the only way she knows how. Poor Poppy,
nowhere to hide.
Arguing
with her achieves nothing beyond giving her attention (albeit the negative kind.)
And as for that biscuit-offer.....reward for bad behaviour, anyone? Would you
hand out chocolate to your mid-tantrum toddler? Maybe Princess Poppy has ruled
the roost since puppyhood: that’s misguided leadership. Or possibly she came
from a lovely home with a darling old lady who showed love by giving in to her:
it’s all the same. Dogs need boundaries, guidelines, and ultimately, they have
to know who’s the Boss.
So, if
you live with a mini-dictator, socialise him/her as much as possible ....do you
have a friend/relative/neighbour with dogs he can run with? If he needs it, book
him into a training-class: a great leveller, because it takes the fear out of
meeting dogs en masse. And work on the home-situation: show her/him you’re the
leader.. My house! My furniture!...(invitation only.) My bed!...(you’ve got
your own.) My doorways (which I cross first, thank you) My food, My biscuits (I
eat before you, sunshine) and most of all, My rules. Small, subtle things that
can help change bad behaviour. Welcome to Nice Dog Syndrome.
***
On writing, Karen lists 3 mantras:
‘One: Diversionary tactics are fun, but deadlines are
proper grown-up. Two: Clichés are the devil’s tools. Three: Never drink wine whilst operating a keyboard.’
Learn more about Karen and her writing HERE.
