I’m irritating myself. Everything I do irritates me. I’m irritating myself by writing this blog because I sat down to write my story and look what’s happened. Really I should be packing, or throwing all my old stuff away because we’re moving house in a couple of days, but I’ve just remembered I have aContinue reading “On writing, social media and the impending end of Lent”
The below is a very, very short story I named ‘Until Five’. I kind of like it in a bleak sort of way and I doubt I’ll ever do anything with it, so that’s why I’m posting it here. Until Five One of my legs feels fuzzy against the other, like a kiwi. I can’tContinue reading “Until Five [fiction]”
It’s Saturday morning, I’ve been to boxing, I’ve had a shower and now I’m eating a crumpet. I always forget how delicious crumpets are. What I should be doing, of course, is tucking into some poached eggs and a protein shake to fuel my broken muscles but, you know….crumpets. I’m not sure I should beContinue reading “Saturday morning crumpet”
I don’t know why I was so nervous about going to the writer’s workshop last night but I really, really was. It seems that all of life is a succession of scary things we have to make ourselves do. What I find ‘scary’ changes day-to-day and is largely dependent on what mood I’m in. SometimesContinue reading “Take your work seriously, not yourself”
Another short scene from my story… I’m lying on the faux sheepskin rug naked when Melissa texts me to say she’s finished her business in Jasmin District early. I get dressed and catch the metro to meet her for a coffee. “The guy’s been spending thousands calling all these numbers on his company phone,”Continue reading “Hipster cafe (fiction)”
I thought I’d post another extract from my story – this time about Ivy and her sister… There were six years between us, but at the creek it never seemed to matter. We existed in a timeless bubble shin-deep in the creek’s shallows, with the moss between our toes. When we got tired of theContinue reading “Sisterhood (fiction)”
As predicted, I have scrapped most of the scene about Josh and Ivy that I published last week. This is a new one… “You’re up early.” I squint over my shoulder at Josh’s slouchy, bare-chested figure in the hallway. His blonde hair – usually so carefully coiffed with his special hair stuff, is completely flatContinue reading “The other woman”
This is an extract from a story I’m writing. I’m a bit worried it’s the literary equivalent of a stick drawing, but hopefully you’ll like it for its amateur charm. A fog horn woke me. Or was it Josh’s bread maker? He thinks it cures his insomnia. There’s something cathartic about pouring in the flourContinue reading “A birthday party with myself (fiction)”
Last week I spent five and a half days in the rural Languedoc Roussillon region of France at the house my grandparents have spent 27 summers restoring from a ruin.
Jack Morke wanted a whisky. He’d never particularly wanted a whisky before, but now he wanted one more than anything. Preferably in one of those round weighted tumblers with big ice cubes that rattled against the sides. Men drank whisky. Men with problems. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.