Some writers like to whinge about how writing is hard. We struggle for hours to produce a few sentences, no-one appreciates us, the money isn’t enough to buy a Pot Noodle, blah blah. Writing is not hard. You know what is hard? Getting up every single weekday and going to a job that you hate, but having no drive or ambition to do something else. Never knowing what you’re supposed to do with your life. Having no talent or creativity….
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Dear Drunk Dudes in Bars
3rd Oct 2010 in Personal
Dear drunk dudes in bars, You know those times I go to the bar and leave my girlfriend sitting by herself looking all cute? And you know how sometimes you come over and sit next to her and get all like ‘awright doll, how yeh doin’?’ Well, I get that. She looks adorable and fascinating, which is why I go out with her. And you know how I come back from the bar and I put down the drinks and…
I Fucked a Girl and I Liked It – Eventually
25th Sep 2010 in Writing
A few months ago I wrote an essay about lesbian sex for an anthology that paid £75. The anthology was never published. Damn, I thought to myself, I wasted a day of writing. And then I went and had a cup of tea. It is a little-known fact that the genetics of British people mean that tea is linked to thinking. More tea = more thoughts. It took 1,539 cups for John Logie Baird to figure out the TV. It took 2,599 cups for T. S….
Thievery: Anchor of the Suburbs
12th Sep 2010 in Thievery, Writing
Thievery is a series of blog posts about my story inspirations. The Story: ‘Anchor of the Suburbs’, published in Weave #4. An extract: It was halfway through the spring of ’84 when Sandra decided that she was going to become an anchoress. ‘I am going to live,’ she announced one evening during the advert break of our nightly TV soaps, ‘in the crawlspace beside the laundry room.’ She warned us that being an anchoress included refusing all contact except food…
Well, What Do You Want Me To Say?
11th Sep 2010 in Personal
My mother, like most parents, thinks her children are miracles. Everything that I do is not an achievement on my part, but just a manifestation of that in-born miraculous nature. When I graduated with my undergraduate degree, I was just doing exactly what she knew I would do. When I graduated with distinction with my Masters degree, she was unsurprised. When I won the New Writers Award or the Gillian Purvis Award or blah blah blah, she would have expected…