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 left me confused. Set in 2059 and in a dystopian world in which clairvoyants exist and are labelled as criminals by the government, this story involves some serious worldbuilding and I found myself feeling a bit bamboozled by the clairvoyant lingo. However, the action kicked in pretty quickly and kept me enthralled, even when I wasn’t quite sure who was who and how things worked. Continue reading “The Bone Season, Samantha Shannon | Book Review”
“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”
I bought this short story collection on impulse when I was perusing the pretty anthologies section in Waterstones. I love short stories and I love dogs – I didn’t have to think twice. But I’ve got to be honest – I’m a tad disappointed. Continue reading ““Dog Stories” Short Story Collection | Book Review”
Laughter is the best medicine, but when healthcare comes at a price it is only the rich who are lucky enough to try the tonic.
Jacques made a sound living from flogging laughter, but it was a miserable job. He spent his days trawling the streets, waiting on jokes and witticisms before pouncing upon those who heard them.
As soon as the laughter came tumbling from his victims’ mouths, he’d leap upon them and capture it while it was still fresh. Continue reading “Laughter is the Best Medicine | Microfiction”
“There was no lamb left, love,” said Frank, as he dumped his shopping bags on the kitchen floor.
“What do you mean?” said Rita, a small flutter of panic running through her.
“No lamb joints,” Frank said with a shrug. “No pork, either, as I thought that would be second best. All they had was chicken, and all the big ones had already gone. Supermarket was jam-packed.”
“But you went early. How could they run out of lamb and pork when you went first thing? You did go first thing, didn’t you? You didn’t sneak off somewhere else first?” Continue reading “Bank Holiday Misery | Short Story”