Posts in Writing
Peripheral Beasts

We take in so much information on a daily basis. It makes sense that certain things will just slide past our attention after we’ve seen them enough times. Building sites, shops, queues at bus stops. They’re in our world every single day. They become white noise, background details. Scenery. I had a moment yesterday when I noticed something on my wife’s desk at work that I had completely been looking through for months. Don’t worry, it wasn’t divorce paperwork.

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A Writer's Fan-Fare (or 500 + Words of Summer)

Oh, summer. Cruel, hot, possible globally catastrophic summer. Soon you will be gone, never to dark our barometers and shorts drawers again. No longer will people walk into a room and declare ‘oh, isn’t it hot in here’ or ‘oh, isn’t it cold in here’ like some demented, inbred thermometer parrot. No longer will people claim to love the summer but always seem to be the first to reach for the air conditioning, thus exposing themselves as a total fraud.

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Shadows, Psychos and Spiders

I’m trying to remind myself these days that horror is a many splendoured thing. In fiction, that is. I’m not watching the news, smiling a slow snake smile and muttering the word ‘beautiful’ to myself. I’ll leave that to the people pulling the politician’s strings. Surely there must be someone watching the blossoming groundswell of chaos reaching far across the world today and congratulating themselves. Before turning to Hitler’s living brain (now safely implanted inside the body of a gaunt, pale, asthmatic gorilla) and offering a deeply worshipful high five.

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Lost in the Required Reading

Sometimes, the universe speaks to you.  Or that’s how I choose to see it.  I suppose it’s just coincidence, really.  It’s either that or I’m deciding to pick up on the same, repeating cues to assemble my own, personal breadcrumb trail.  It’s a way of making sense of the noise.  Or using the noise to make sense of yourself.

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Stuck on the Slow Train

Some weeks, you just can’t win.  It’s not right, it’s not fair.  They're the horrendous traffic jam when you're already late.  They're the one email or customer that is going to totally derail your plans to get through Monday unscathed.  The large, slow moving spider that appears as the shampoo starts to sting your eyes.  It’s basically some sort of event horizon conjured by statistics and chance.

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Dear 38

Dear 38 year old me,
   Hi, how’re you doing?  Well, I guess you’re resting right now.  If all things go to plan, then you’re due for a pretty big year ahead of you.  There’s the new book coming out, Fluff.  There’s another book to write.  You’ve got a massive new Avengers movie and the first female Doctor Who to look forward to as well.  I just wanted to take this opportunity to wish you luck and send on your way with a little advice.

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Little Grey Sells

I’m not what you’d label as faithful.  I loaded myself up with a heavy dose of cynicism as a kid and it stops me from comfortably believing most commonly accepted miracles.  Although there are some things in this world that can catch me off guard.  Things that appeared to have reached in from beyond the beige walls of our rather ready salted existence.  Great inventions.  Scientific breakthroughs.  Moments of hope or moments of true charity.  Great works of art or music that can grab you by the soul.

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