Speculative Short Story and Flash Fiction Writer
I love a bit of Vonnegut, but I started reading Deadeye Dick back in 2012 and barely got a quarter of the way through it. I got bored, despite enjoying his trademark one-liners and deliciously scathing tone.
This time around I finished the whole thing in just a couple of days, but those first few chapters were still a bit of a slog. Continue reading “Deadeye Dick, Kurt Vonnegut | Book Review”
“The assumption was that we would meet at 7.30pm, having already purchased our sweet treats and stashed them on our persons, ready to buy our tickets and find the best seats in the cinema.”
“That was your assumption, actually.”
“Instead, you met me at 7.30pm not only without your sweet treats, but without any idea of what sweet treats you wanted.”
“This was a cinema trip, not a military operation.” Continue reading “Assumptions | Flash Fiction”
Liza drew back the changing room curtain and struck a sassy pose for her maid of honour.
“Liza… it’s perfect!”
“I know!” Liza squealed as she turned away from her friend and admired herself in the mirror. “It’s lacy but not too fussy. Form fitting but not too clingy. Vintage but not too stuffy. And it fits me like a glove; even the length is bang on. It’s like it was made for me.”
She was right; the dress was made for her. It was made for her to do something truly awful. Continue reading “Made for Me | Flash Fiction”
I started a new story this week. A long one. Well, technically it’s a short story, but considering that the majority of tales I write here are under 500 words, it’s gargantuan in comparison.
And I’m so excited about it!
It’s one that came from a daft little scribble in a notebook; a single line that I felt had potential to be something interesting. And now it’s all planned out and a third of the way written and I feel like it’s my wee baby – something to love and nurture and make wonderful. Continue reading “Passion for New Projects | Blog”
The first few chapters of The Bone Season
“Who’d feed us?” said the dog, head resting on her paws.
“Well I can fend for myself,” said the cat, as she stretched out a paw and extended her talons. “These claws weren’t solely meant for scratching the sofa. You, on the other hand, have no idea how to hunt. You’d probably perish. But your ineptitude is none of my concern.”
The dog rolled her eyes. “If you hate her so much, why don’t you just leave? Killing her seems so extreme.” Continue reading “That Sweet Spot | Flash Fiction”
“The soup’s too thin!” the head chef squawked, over and over until the junior chef thought she could take it no more.
She’d done her best. She’d tried to reduce it. She’d tried adding cornflour. She’d tried dolloping in cream. And still the meat soup didn’t live up to the head chef’s standards. Continue reading “Soup | Microfiction”
“She’s a beauty,” Reg said proudly as he traced the curves of his new car’s bonnet with his fingertips.
“Mm,” the courier grunted as he flicked through some paperwork. “You need a run-through of the vehicle before I leave it with you?”
Reg scoffed. “I think I can handle it, mate.” Continue reading “Supercar | Flash Fiction”
In February I made a (risky) executive decision to stop taking antidepressants without checking with my doctor first.
It’s kind of a long story as to why, but let’s just say that my faith in my GP’s knowledge of antidepressants had run dry. And I kinda figured that I know my brain better than anyone else. My thoughts on my own brain weren’t really listened to by my doctor in the past, and it didn’t go well for me (Biggest. Understatement. Ever). So, I turned to Google for advice and weaned off the meds myself. Continue reading “I’m in a Trough (Whinge Part 2) | Blog”
She’s just… exquisite.
The way her hair wafts in the breeze and shimmers under the sun. The way she smiles and licks her lips when she catches her breath. The way she takes in the world with big, hazel eyes, as though every day is the most beautiful she’s ever seen.
Every single move she makes is extraordinary. And her tail! Continue reading “What Does He Have? | Microfiction”
