This month’s reading list is a little lacklustre because I only managed to read one book (“And you call yourself a writer and a book-lover, how dare you?!” I KNOW). Thanks to NaNoWriMo and a very busy work month, I’ve pretty much been shackled to my keyboard and it’s been hellish. But the book I did read was a bloody big ‘un – Stephen King’s It. There be spoilers ahead. Continue reading “November Reads”
The candidate ran his hand through his hair, straightened his tie, and then knocked three times on the door. It was a strong knock, he thought. Firm, yet friendly. At least, that’s how he hoped the interviewer would see it.
He was a few minutes early to demonstrate his time-keeping abilities. After all, he had little else going for him other than the fact that he could avoid tardiness. Continue reading “The Interview: Part 1”
Oh God, not another meeting, I can’t handle another meeting, I’m gonna crash, I’m gonna fall asleep on my feet, they’re gonna think I’m a lazy bastard but they won’t know that this is my eighth meeting of the day and that I’ve drunk so much coffee I’m peeing brown and my head is spinning. Continue reading “The Twelfth Espresso”
“Psst. Did you see Frank earlier? With Sue?”
“Urgh, I know. Poor girl. Don’t know why they put up with it.”
“Don’t seem to have a lot of choice,” the kitchen wall replied with a sigh. Continue reading “The Walls Always Talk”
Jeanny lit her third cigarette, much to Cathy’s revulsion. She wrinkled her nose and wafted the smoke away from her face, which triggered a sigh from Jeanny.
“Don’t sigh, you know I hate you smoking around me.” Continue reading “Like a Bad Smell”
Amber gave one last, wary look behind her before she slipped into the staff toilet. She never failed to be amazed by how much cleaner they were than those the students had to use. She couldn’t tell if the teachers were lucky enough to have their bathrooms cleaned daily, or if her fellow pupils were just scummy bastards. It was probably the latter. Continue reading “Waterworks”
“I’m not going to write today. I don’t feel like it. I’m not in the mood, and I can never write anything good if I’m not in the mood. I think I have writer’s block. There’s no point forcing it. I will just wait until inspiration hits me.”
Sound familiar? This drivel used to come out of my mouth at least once or twice a week. Sometimes it would occur every day for a fortnight. And then I created a schedule for writing short stories and everything changed. I learned the trick of forcing my creativity. Continue reading “Ignoring Writer’s Block & Forcing Creativity”
There’s only half an hour left of the graveyard shift, and I’m flagging. It’s not exhaustion caused by excessive work, but rather exhaustion from lack of work. The graveyard shift does little to stimulate the mind, and when the mind shuts down the body goes with it.
Not a single guest has checked in during my five hours behind the desk. A couple stumbled through the door earlier – one at 1:13am and another at 1:32 – but they were simply returning to their rooms after a night on the town. Both swayed from side to side as they walked and had rosy cheeks and dumb grins. Boozing businessmen – that’s who I usually face during graveyard shifts. But that’s fine by me; they tend to greet me with a goofy smile and head straight for the lift, eager to get to the safety of their bedroom where they can close their eyes and stop the world from spinning. Continue reading “The Graveyard Shift”
- Keep a backpack underneath your bed so that you’re always ready to run. Fill it with the essentials:
- Water bottle
- Pain killers
- Small, compact snacks (anything except biscuits)
- Map of UK
- Something stabby
“Felines and canines, rodents and birds, please welcome your 2017 international presidential candidates, Rex and Pusskin.”
Howls and screeches and squawks went up from the crowd as the candidates made their appearance on stage. Pusskin sashayed towards her podium, eyes narrow, tail swishing gently from left to right to showcase her cool, calm composure. Rex was her polar opposite; he bounded across the stage and back again, tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling from his mouth as he let the crowd absorb his enthusiasm.
Continue reading “The Debate”