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Kathleen Warnock wears many hats: playwright, editor of both travel and erotica, journalist, fiction writer, literary curator, Ambassador of Love. But here she has on her editor-of-Best-Lesbian-Erotica hat (not sure how that hat would look, but I know I’d like it). I’m a huge fan of the Best Lesbian Erotica series – it was my girlfriend’s gift of BLE ’09 that got me writing erotica in the first place! I’m thrilled to have stories in the ’11 and ’12 books,…

Do something nice for yourself today: take some time to look at these photos from Russia in the early 1900s and listen to Leonard Cohen’s new album, ‘Old Ideas’. Perfect for a Sunday afternoon.

Thievery is a series of blog posts about my story inspirations. The Story: ‘Francis Observes How Babies Are Made’ is published in New Writing Scotland #29. An extract: Francis is watching the moon. It is white like a bowl of milk and it makes the plain outside the window look black and silver like it’s on television. Francis hopes that if he stays very still then maybe he will see the moon move. Kulowali says that a beautiful woman lives in…

Thievery is a series of blog posts about my story inspirations. One Thursday per month, I invite my favourite writers to share the inspirations behind their stories. Here’s one from Lynsey May. The Story: ‘Nesting’ is published online at Imagining Scotland. An extract: Declan doesn’t want to find out what is stashed under the stairs, he’d rather run back up them and drink his post-work beer and talk about the sad, far away things happening on the news. But now he’s…

I love resolutions, and sometimes I even stick to them. I reckon everyone could take the time to sit down and think of a new things they’d like to do differently in 2012. Even if we don’t fully achieve these goals, it’s good to feel like we’re moving in the right direction. My ambitions are not grand, I know. I’m happy with the way my life is at the moment, so I don’t feel the need to try for any…

I wrote a smutty, Virgin Mary-themed flash fiction called ‘Sex Lives of the Saints’, and you can read it at Tawdry Bawdry. Hope you enjoy it! Here’s a sneak preview: Just so she doesn’t think I’m hopeless, I run my fingertip along her neck: a raised white scar, soft as fog, the width of a match. ‘My father,’ she says. ‘He was hit by lightning.’