• Felixstowe Book Festival

    Last weekend, a few friends and I went to Felixstowe Book Festival.  This was my third event of this kind, and probably my favourite so far.  NAWG Fest in September last year was an intensive two days of excellent workshops, with a couple of author talks thrown in.  Tremendous fun, but very tiring.  Chipping Norton Literary Festival, in May, was all author panels, which I found very interesting, but didn’t spark my creative muscles.  So, I was glad to discover that Felixstowe had a range of different sessions on offer, including both panels and workshops.  I signed up for several of both, and thought the combination worked really well.

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  • In Print - Prize To Come?

    My story, The Decision, has been printed in this quarter's Scribble Magazine!  Each issue has ten stories on any theme, and the readers write in with their comments, including their top three picks for that issue.  The comment letters get printed in the next issue, and the three stories with the most votes get a prize, so I shall be awaiting September's issue eagerly!

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  • Same Lesson Every Time

    I didn’t write anything all last week.  Then, I had a tiring, somewhat stressful but ultimately enjoyable weekend away at a gaming event, getting home later last night than planned.  And I’d completely forgotten about my dentist appointment this morning.  All I wanted to do with the rest of today was sit on the sofa and watch TV.  But I had a writing date scheduled with a writer friend this afternoon, so I duly made my way to Brick Lane to meet her.

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  • Music for Writing

    My relationship to aural input whilst writing has changed dramatically over time.

    I used to need complete peace and quiet in order to write, and I certainly wouldn’t be able to listen to music at the same time.

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  • The House

    In its heyday, the house stood in substantial grounds, and its nearest neighbour was at least half a mile away.  The family that owned the house could trace their history back generations and were extremely proud of their heritage.  The house hosted many a lavish party and saw hundreds of guests enter through its magnificent oak doors.  Horses and carriages turned on its driveway, depositing merry people, in all their finery, upon the front steps, to be announced to those within.  The ballroom shone first in candlelight, and later with gas lamps, illuminating countless dances.  

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  • The Owl

    An eagle eye

    Surveys my heart

    Noting the changes since it awoke

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