Standing in the Gap for another Woman
Daily writing prompt Describe a risk you took that you do not regret. View all responsesthis incident, which I was chided for later, saying “You could have gotten hurt,” felt to me as illogical as a flat earth, because another woman was already being hurt, and it hurts me more to stand idly by, than to block the next blow. The description of the incident is here, on my blog… Nia
#cooperation #dailyprompt #dailyprompt1918
The risk of sharing your writing – from rejection to publishing two books
Daily writing prompt Describe a risk you took that you do not regret. View all responsesThe Risk of Sharing Your Writing
Maybe it was a risk to never send anything out for consideration.
There’s always that voice at the back of your mind:
What will people think?
Will they like it?
What if they hate it?
What if they reject it?
The truth is—those things can and will happen.
Anything you put into the public domain is open to both criticism and praise. That’s part of the deal. I’ve had plenty of pieces rejected over the years (it comes with the territory), and I’ve also seen that moment of surprise when people realise I write—something that doesn’t quite fit their expectations.
Why Taking Risks as a Writer Matters
Without risk, there is no reward.
Taking that first step—sending your work out, submitting a poem, publishing a story—is like opening a door. You don’t always know what’s behind it, but opportunity is there waiting.
It might not work out every time. But you learn. You experience it. And that counts for something.
So the real question is:
Isn’t it worth taking the risk just to see where it leads?
From Rejection to Publishing Books
I wrote the original version of this piece over a year ago.
Since then, things have changed.
I now have two books published, and each one came with its own level of risk.
My first book, A Mouthful of Space Dust, is a collection of slightly strange (and hopefully funny) poetry. If you enjoy poems about psychotic cats, vicars with road rage, and unusual characters, it might be exactly what you’re looking for.
A Mouthful of Space Dust by Gavin Turner
My second book is an even bigger leap—my first novella, Chopsticks.
It asks a strange question:
What if you were a brilliant but crooked musician… cursed to only ever play one tune?
Chopsticks by Gavin Turner
Both books are available on Amazon as paperback and ebook.
The Balance Between Risk and Reward
This is what it really comes down to—the balance between risk and reward.
Does it still feel risky sharing my work?
Absolutely.
But what’s the alternative?
Keeping everything to yourself?
Stories are meant to be shared.
A Message for Writers
Maybe there’s a story you’ve been holding back.
Maybe you’ve been waiting for the “right time” or the confidence to send it out.
That moment might never come.
But the opportunity is still there.
Take the risk. Open the door. See where it leads.
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The Risk That Changed Everything
Describe a risk you took that you do not regret. One of the biggest risks I took was deciding to fully focus on building George’s Agricultural Machinery instead of depending on small, uncertain jobs. It wasn’t easy—there were moments of doubt, financial pressure, and fear of failure.I invested my time and energy into understanding machines like stone crushers and ball mills, learning how to market them, and talking to customers even when I wasn’t sure I would close a sale. Sometimes […]https://georgesagriculturalmacinery.wordpress.com/2026/04/24/the-risk-that-changed-everything/
Stuck Between Early and Late Like an Idiot
Why does being early feel just as uncomfortable as being late? This prompt’s from ericfoltin.com, not one of those mass-produced Jetpack or WordPress leftovers that feel like they were phoned in sometime before people stopped using dial-up. I’ve shown up early enough to hear my own thoughts echo. It’s not peaceful. It’s awkward. There’s this weird stretch of time where I’m not late, not on time, just… existing in the margins like a glitch no one asked for. Being late gets all […]https://ericfoltin.com/2026/04/24/stuck-between-early-and-late-like-an-idiot/
Culinary Adventures: When Food Abroad Bites Back!
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Prepare your taste buds and buckle up for a gastronomic rollercoaster ride as we explore the wild world of culinary adventures abroad. From mouth-watering delicacies to unexpected surprises, join me as we delve into the delightful and sometimes downright daring realm of international cuisine.
https://benable.com/abnolte/81c35f813073af56266c
1. The Spicy Spectacle
You pride yourself on your tolerance for heat, so when the friendly street vendor in Bangkok offers you a taste of their “mild” curry, you confidently accept with a smile. But as the first fiery bite hits your tongue like a flamethrower in a chili factory, you quickly realize that you may have underestimated the true meaning of “Thai spicy.” Cue the frantic gulps of water and the impromptu fire-breathing performance that leaves your fellow diners both impressed and slightly concerned for your well-being.
2. The Mystery Meat Mishap
You’re feeling adventurous, so when the menu at that quaint little bistro in Paris lists “escargot” as the house specialty, you decide to throw caution to the wind and give it a try. But as you take your first tentative bite of the slimy delicacy, you can’t shake the sinking feeling that you may have just eaten something that was alive mere moments ago. Cue the existential crisis and the fervent vow to stick to more familiar fare for the remainder of your culinary adventures.
https://benable.com/abnolte/81c35f813073af56266c/details?detail_id=5416811
3. The Cultural Conundrum
You’re determined to immerse yourself in the local culture, so when your gracious host in Tokyo presents you with a steaming bowl of what can only be described as “mystery soup,” you graciously accept with a smile and a bow. But as you tentatively take a sip and try to identify the various unidentifiable floating objects, you realize that sometimes, cultural immersion comes with a side of gastrointestinal distress. Cue the polite nods and the silent prayers for a speedy recovery as you struggle to maintain your composure in the face of culinary adversity.
https://www.facebook.com/reel/1104783950741628
4. The Street Food Fiasco
You’ve heard rave reviews about the street food scene in Marrakech, so when you stumble upon a bustling market teeming with tantalizing smells and exotic flavors, you can’t resist the siren call of the street vendors. But as you dig into your first bite of falafel, you quickly realize that street food adventures come with their own set of risks – namely, the inevitable battle with food poisoning that leaves you regretting every culinary decision you’ve ever made.
5. The Sweet Surprise
Amidst the chaos and confusion of culinary mishaps abroad, sometimes you stumble upon a hidden gem that restores your faith in the power of international cuisine. Whether it’s a piping hot plate of pad thai in Bangkok or a decadent slice of tiramisu in Rome, these unexpected delights serve as a delicious reminder that sometimes, the best culinary adventures are the ones that catch you by surprise.
https://benable.com/abnolte/81c35f813073af56266c
So there you have it, fellow foodies – a humorous glimpse into the world of culinary adventures abroad, where every bite is an adventure and every meal is a memory. Remember, no matter how many culinary mishaps you encounter along the way, it’s all part of the delicious journey. Until next time, happy eating and may your taste buds be forever adventurous!
This is the second last post about Travelling…..keep your eyes peeled for the next blogs all about????
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Epilogue: A Toast to Treachery
The arrest of Inspector Salomone was a quiet affair, conducted with the discretion that only a small village like Speranza could muster. Inspector Davies, the unassuming but astute officer who had once investigated the death of Elias Thorne, led the disgraced Salomone away in handcuffs. The former guardian of the law did not rage; instead, he wore a look of terrified resignation, muttering about a “higher tempo” and a “conductor” who would not be pleased.
“I was merely the second fiddle, Moira,” Salomone hissed as he was placed into the squad car, his eyes darting toward the bell tower. “The orchestra plays on, with or without me.”
Back at the Coffee Taverna, the atmosphere was one of exhausted relief. The adrenaline that had fueled our escape from the Cigars House had faded, replaced by the heavy, comforting scent of roasted beans and the earthy aroma of Altea’s unlit tobacco.
We gathered around the table to open the bottle of Speranza, Year Zero. Altea, with the reverence of a priestess, used a corkscrew to pull the ancient stopper. It emerged with a satisfying pop, releasing not the smell of vinegar, but a rich, complex bouquet of dark cherries, leather, and… something metallic.
“To the soil of Speranza,” Anna toasted, raising her glass. “And to friendship, the only root that doesn’t rot.”
We drank. The wine was exquisite—velvety and deep. But as I set my glass down, Toe, my sleek black cat, jumped onto the table. He did not look at the wine. He looked at the cork.
With a surgical extend of a single claw, he hooked the cork and batted it toward me. It rolled across the wooden table, coming to rest against the base of the kerosene lamp.
“Look,” I whispered, the Poirot-like instinct twitching in my mind.
Burned into the side of the cork, hidden until it was pulled from the neck of the bottle, was not a vintage year. It was a sequence of musical notes. A specific, haunting trill.
“That’s not just a melody,” Marisa said, her face paling as she recognized the notation. “That is the opening bar of The Devil’s Trill sonata. It’s the signature of the ‘Maestro’—a legendary thief who steals not with silence, but with sound.”
A New dissonance
Before I could respond, the heavy oak door of the Taverna creaked open. The wind from the street blew in, extinguishing the candles and plunging us into a sudden, Hitchcockian gloom.
Standing in the doorway was a young woman, drenched from a sudden squall. She clutched a violin case to her chest as if it were an infant. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the same terror I had seen in Viviana Bellini’s face weeks ago.
“Dr. Hopes?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “They told me you could help. I am the second violinist for the quartet playing at the gala tonight. But… the first chair has vanished.”
She stepped into the light, and Ashwaganda let out a low, warning growl from his perch.
“He didn’t just disappear,” the woman sobbed, placing the violin case on the table next to the branded cork. “He vanished while he was playing a solo on stage. One moment the music was there, and the next… only silence. And in his place, they found this.”
She opened the case. The violin was gone. Resting in the velvet lining was not an instrument, but a perfectly preserved, severed finger of a marble statue—and a single, fresh cacao bean.
I looked at Altea, Anna, and Marisa. The “Conductor” Salomone had warned us about had already begun his performance. The wine was finished, but the overture to a new nightmare had just begun.
“Lock the doors, Anna,” I said, picking up the marble finger. “It seems our quiet life in Speranza is about to get very loud.”
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Pensamiento de Oscar Iglesias «A los 33 años ir a la Universidad»
Sugerencia de escritura del día Explica un riesgo que hayas asumido y del que no te arrepientas. Ver todas las respuestasA los 33 años, tenía una asignatura pendiente en la vida, pisar una Universidad e intentar algo que de más joven nadie esperaba que fuera capaz, ya que dejé los estudios en en aquel segundo de BUP, que ahora sería tercero de la ESO, si no recuerdo mal, tras una nefasta experencia en el Instituto, hice un FP de Administrativo, ahí me fue muy bien y de ahí me puse a trabajar, no estaba satisfecho con lo que había hecho hasta ese momento, así que hice el curso para examinarme para el acceso a la Universidad para mayores de 25 años, al segundo intento, mas o menos tal día como hoy en 2007 logré el acceso a la Universidad, a la facultad de Derecho de la Universidad Complutense de Madrid, y esta experiencia me ha dado realmente un salto adelante como persona, al final por circunstancias de que me quedé en el paro y estaba buscando trabajo no pude acabar la carrera, aunque me costaba también por qué no decirlo, me arrepiento eso si de no acabar, pero no de empezarla, ahí conocí gente variada, conocí a gente estupenda, lo pasaba muy bien, disfruté bastante de la vida universitaria y lo echo mucho de menos, me arrepiento de no aprovechar mejor esta etapa y de no haber acabado la carrera pero ahora mismo quisiera retrasar el tiempo y revivirlo y disfrutarlo mucho más, ahí empecé con mucha timidez pero espabilé un poco, esa es la verdad y sobre todo me hizo querer mucho más tener sabiduria y cultura.
Pero ya digo que fue una etapa muy bonita, fue un riesgo con la edad que tenía, pero bueno no me arrepiento y quisiera regresar a esos años, sinceramente.
#dailyprompt #dailyprompt1918 #pasado #recuerdos #Universidad
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Sometime ago, I wrote about “The Small Change I Hope My Blog Would Make“, whereby I mentioned that with every article written and uploaded on this website would spread some form of comfort and positivity, especially within the community of junior doctors.
Perhaps I’m just simply being optimistic. I have to. That keeps me going, even on difficult days to the point it has become a default reflex for me.
Nonetheless, I love to write and sometimes I do get lost that I tend to deviate from the topic at times and divert back to the main topic at hand.
Living in this world which has its flaws and problems at every corner, I try to see the good aspect of things and thus, I try to end my articles on a good note or some encouragement, which is mainly directed at me actually. However, I never know who may be reading my written articles and perhaps just need some encouragement and kind words at the moment.
It serves as a “happy ending” just like a fairytale in which I escape in one too many times.
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https://theoreticaldoctor.com/2024/09/21/ending-my-articles-on-a-good-note/
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Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?
I am half-Filipino. My mother is from the Philippines and my father, a Malaysian, like me.
Growing up, I was neither close to my mother’s or father’s side. However, between these two, I am somewhat culturally inclined towards my mother’s side through some of her simple heartwarming dishes that she cooked growing up as well as some of the Filipino songs she would play or the Tagalog words she would incorporate in her daily conversations.
Two of the simple dish my mother would prepare would be pasta or bolognese spaghetti and Buko salad.
1. Spaghetti
Originally, spaghetti is a form of pasta and a staple food of traditional Italian cuisine.
However, it also serves as one of the staple Filipino dishes.
My mother would usually make a batch of bolognese spaghetti occasionally and on New Year’s Eve, as that is what my maternal grandmother used to do while she was growing up.
It is rather simple and easy as well and she would go crazy with the cheddar cheese topping. Over the years, as she started to dwell into vegetarianism and eventually become one for a lifetime, she created her own variation of a vegetarian version.
2. Buko Salad
Adapted from https://www.kawalingpinoy.com/buko-salad/“Buko” salad is a form of Filipino fruit salad.
“Buko” refers to a young coconut fruit and “Buko” salad consists of the young coconut itself.
It is a simple dish which has many variations.
My mother would usually mix with nata de coco of various colours, avoiding the colourless ones, corn, a huge can of mix fruits and other canned fruits before finally mixing it with evaporated milk, cheddar cheese and “buko”.
She will the separate it into containers and freeze it and have it on New Year’s Eve.
Growing up, my family would be seated at the dining table with other dishes prepared on New Year’s Eve for us to dine in together at midnight and every year, these two dishes remains a staple.
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Daily writing prompt What would your life be like without music? View all responsesUtterly boring.
As far as I could recall, I have always associated studying with music.
Perhaps it is because while growing up, my mom had always filled the house with music and made me sit at a corner to study whether I liked it or not, I had to study.
Eventually, I’ve grown used to, to studying with music or reading with music.
In high school, I discovered the kind of music that I like as well as the suitable time for me to study.
Thus, music and studying goes hand-in-hand or I will not be able to focus.
Eventually, I shift to Podcasts and Audiobooks while I am going about doing my chores or cooking, I am either listening to these or music.
Even my daily morning writing has jazz or lo-fi playing in the background.
There are days of course when I do not feel like listening to my music or is simply not in the mood for other musics.
Thus, “lo-fi” or “jazz” are my go-to. Still musical nevertheless.
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