“I’ve seen pictures – they’re beautiful!”
Ant sighed as he waited for his friend to the finish the phone call.
“Well their mother looks incredible, so it’s no surprise, really.”
It was always the same; he met Dylan “for a few drinks,” paid for the first round, and sat listening to half a conversation while his friend wittered to somebody else over the phone. Continue reading “Better Plans”
Writing makes me miserable. But I do it anyway, because sometimes it’s just the tonic I need.
I’ve suffered from depression on and off since I was a teen. There have been moments where I’ve thought, “Shit, this thing is going to kill me,” and times where I’ve thought, “Wow, I’m so happy I can’t imagine I’ll ever be depressed ever again.” I was wrong on both counts. I’m still here, but I’m still working on my mental health every single day. Continue reading “Writing Makes Me Miserable: On Writing and Mental Health”
An angry man exits an apartment building with a red face and the shine of early tears in his eyes.
He talks three steps to his left, three steps to his right, then drags his hands down the length of his face.
He wants to scream, but he can’t. He wants to hurl some verbal abuse at the window three storeys up, but he can’t. He wants to return to the apartment he left just moments before and throw some plates against walls, but he can’t. Continue reading “Fighting Back”
There’s a little town on the east coast of England – known as Estonville – which is twinned with a little town on the west coast of England – known as Westonville.
The roads of each town are the same. The houses are the same. The locations of schools, shops, and businesses are the all same. Even the people in the two settlements are the same. Well… almost. Continue reading “Twinned With”
“Stop running around like a blue-arsed fly and sit down on the blanket!”
The child froze, then turned to his mother and pouted. “But I’m bored.”
“I’m bored of your whinging.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“So sit on the blanket and eat some berries.” His mother raised her brows to let the child know that there would be dire consequences if he disobeyed. Continue reading “Today’s The Day”
Not everyone has their shit together, and the sooner we all come to this realisation, the happier we will be.
I touched on this in my 27 Things I Learned by Age 27 list a couple of weeks ago, but I wanted to elaborate a little because, as some of you have probably figured out by now, I like to ramble. 😉 Continue reading “Not Everyone Has Their Sh*t Together”
Kelly examined her reflection in the mirror. She had a towel wrapped up in a pile on top her head, and another tucked around her body. Her skin was still flush from the heat of the shower, and she wished that she could always look as radiant.
No matter, she thought. She’d only be plastering her war paint over the top. Bold, black eyeliner and deep red lips, applied in just the way the woman on the makeup counter had shown her. It was her signature look, now, and it worked perfectly with her new capsule wardrobe which was crammed full of sleek, tailored outfits that proved she meant business. Continue reading “Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes”
I swear, if he breathes again it’ll be the last breath he takes.
Oh, there it is. The long, squeaky inhale through the nose and the rattling huff through the mouth.
Does he realise how loud he’s being? Is there something wrong with him? Is it normal for human breath to make that kind of noise? Continue reading “Never Again”
The room was quiet, save for the steady electrical hum of computers and the soft tip-tap of keyboards and mice. Five operators sat in line, each with their face illuminated by the vivid glow of their monitors.
They were coming up to 3am, and they knew the requests would soon come flooding in, not because paranormal connections where higher at this time than any other, but because that’s what non-dead souls thought to be true. Continue reading “Operator”
I’m currently querying my first ever novel. It’s stressful, to say the least. It feels like there’s so much at stake and the thought of getting it wrong is horrifying, never mind the fear that the book is just pure rubbish which no literary agent in the history of time would ever be interested in representing. Okay, we’re getting into rant territory now; focus, Ellie. Continue reading “What Querying Feels Like”