Strawberries fields

The other night I was dreaming it was raining strawberries. I woke up and reached for my dream journal, convinced it meant something. What it means is that I’ve been working too hard, spending all my free time at my desk. I go to sleep with writing in my head and …

Rainy days and Mondays

Back to working on the short story collection. Back to my rain story. One minute it’s a funny little piece, the next it is brooding and tense, going back and forth like a metronome. To help me get into the mood, I’ve listening to songs with RAIN in the title. …

The Letter arrives

It finally arrived this morning. For a while I just stood there, rooted on the spot. Even though I knew I wasn’t going to get it, I was still upset when I read the letter. I hope this rejection doesn’t deter you from continuing with your writing, it said. We hope …

The Letter that never comes

I’ve been stalking my postman.  As soon as I hear him outside, I race the dog to the front door, half-dressed, extending my hand into his face. Over pints at the pub with his mates, the postman probably tells them about the scary woman who waits for the letter that never comes. This …

When good ideas go wrong

I was recently working on a story in my collection about the rain and it splintered into two different stories. Rather than choose between the two, I went with both. Just as I was getting the hang of it, they split again. Mitosis. So now I  have four versions of …

Reality Show for Writers

They should do one of those Big Brother/Temptation Island thingies for writers. Six weeks with no internet, television or mobile phones in some beautiful paradise by the sea.Chatty procrastinators and pompous types would get voted off first, with the rest of the candidates crying in frustration and trying not to …

Dream a little dream

I’ve been trying not to think about the novel, working on a dream blog instead. Part real, part creative, it is a platform where I can create little wispy observations and stories that read as if the voices were coming from 50ft above my head. Largely abstract and experimental, these cloudy …

I grow strange waiting

I realised during lunch the other day that I am waiting for something to happen. This realisation was accompanied by a sense of peaceful tranquillity that wafted over me as I unwrapped my sandwich.  So why am I waiting and what precisely am I waiting for? Waiting is so unlike …