Cutting Room Floor

Remember the Saturday morning queue,  standing  outside the local flea pit waiting for it to open? I used to get there early so I could get a seat somewhere about 8 rows back and in the middle of the stalls. It was magic, and I’d watch just about anything – twice if I could get away with it.  The Pathe news was a bit of a struggle but even that, and the adverts, had their moments. I can’t say I was drawn to the acting side, but the mystery in the making of films really thrilled me. Just wonderful.

 The projectionist running films from his high box looked like a good place to ask questions, so one Saturday I knocked very gently on the box door and found a kind looking man.

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ANOTHER TIME

Looking around the empty room, Cara and Helen were lost in nostalgia. The room still held the smell of lavender, their mother’s favourite polish. Clearing their childhood home had been heartbreaking, and now there was only the attic to clear. They climbed the stairs, their heavy steps echoing through the space. Neither had set foot there for many years. 

The door creaked loudly, startling them. They saw a room with boxes packed neatly, cobwebs hanging from the rafters, and a chill air caused them to shiver. Both peered about looking for any sign of rodents. There were no sounds and their breathing relaxed. They checked the first box full of childhood toys, which looked forlorn and slightly grubby. They touched them, smiling, memories of happier times stirred.

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It’s a fake?

Mrs Jane Hastings, aged fifty-three, felt nothing but childish envy for Ms. Julia Parkhurst. Ms. Parkhurst’s cardinal sin was being pretty. Very pretty actually. She was (to hell with delicacy) a bosomy, twenty-three-year-old, who’s bright smile and cheerful disposition made the acne encrusted boys of Roverbank Comprehensive grunt with longing.

Still professionalism had to be maintained, because today. something alarming had been brought to Hastings’ attention. And when she called Ms. Parkhurst into her office, (resenting how gracefully the young woman sat down) she coughed and said “Julia, we don’t pry into the staff’s personal lives, it’s just when a sex tape is leaked to the public, you may have to resign.”

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The Macbethinator

Will leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, steam from his green tea curling around his beard. With a theatrical groan, he tossed a stapled stack of A4 papers onto the table.

“They want a rewrite, Ben,” he sighed. “The script editor, a man with the soul of an old shoe, and the imagination of a month-old brassica, says the pacing is problematic.”

Ben Jonson took a sip of his espresso, suppressing a smirk. “Problematic, Will? What exactly did he say?”

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No Yesterday

Rejection emails are processed differently, Jade had learned. She scanned the text for the now-familiar key words, which leapt off the screen directly into her heart.

            ‘Re: Your screenplay, Tomorrow… whilst we enjoyed… unfortunately… highly selective…’

            Jade slammed the laptop shut, as though the message couldn’t hurt her if it wasn’t witness to her tears. When the images of the Netflix parties she wouldn’t be hosting started flashing through her mind, she turned to red wine and The Beatles.

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Prompt for January

HOMEWORK for deadline Thursday 10pm, 22.01.26.

TASK: ‘The Movie’. Write 500 words or fewer about ‘The Movie’. Your story title isn’t included in the 500 words.

Homework to be in by 10 pm at the latest, Thursday 22nd January 2026. (This time deadline will be helpful to both Martyn and Pat).

Meeting at 1.30pm, Sunday 25.01.26, Waterstones Bookshop, top floor [via stairs or lift], Oxford Street. Finish about 3.00pm.

Send all homework to Pat

Use the Contact Us page to get Pat’s email

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