And to think…

And to think I nearly didn’t go To that steampunk Lesbian reenactment Of the TV show Ghostwatch And had I not I never would have met you My love With your eyes like A butterfly’s back And your hair Like the legs of a butterfly And your butterfly Like the lips of a kiss That’s…

Feart

Originally posted on Morning, and Other Stories.:
? It takes six minutes to get to my old house from the tube after 9pm. You have to run it – or as near as run it – for it to take six minutes. Walking takes ten. I know, still, when the corner shop shuts, when the off…

Meeces

The little urchins crept Around the cottage, late at night And scavenged what they could; Such morsels, scraps and crumbs As they could find. And in the morning Uncle Eric, knowing wink, Would smile “There seems to be A two-legged mouse around the house.” And in the future, then, When round the Twitter, late at…

It is

You loved my hands And though I couldn’t believe it, I let you. You did for me And though they couldn’t understand, I let you. You died too soon And though I couldn’t stop it, I let you.

Second Sunday

Today I attended my first ever writers’ group (at Chapter Arts, Canton, Cardiff) and read out something I’d written for the first time in twenty years.  We spent a short time writing then read aloud and discussed each other’s work.  It was liberating, enlightening and not least of all, fun! The theme for the work…

Two Shorts at The Keys

I had a couple of ideas today, so I decided to make writing exercises out of them and managed to scribble something down tonight while I was at the Sherman Theatre, Cardiff listening to two excellent bands, Wrongs and The Keys.  Potentially it was ignorant, if not a little rude, to write my way through…

Potters

Poppy begins with a tip she saw on the television.  Wet a bar of soap and scrape your fingertips over it; the soap gets under your nails and prevents the dirt getting in. She takes the tray of seedlings to the sunniest end of the yard and counts her pots out in rows.  They were…

The script may be halted but the obsession remains…

I stopped writing this script four or five months ago (yet still can’t call it ‘finished’, you may notice) and yet when presented with a way to make words pretty, the first words I think of are my first-born, my first TV spec script lovingly conceived last year.  Ain’t she a beaut?!

Writers, I would like to ask a question of you…

This is one of those horses for courses questions, what suits you might not suit me, perhaps different occasions call for a different approach. I’d like to collect thoughts, gather experience, receive some received opinions. When we sit down to write every day, as we do (every day) do we either: a) start from the beginning…

Mirror Mirror, in the den, can I write women as well as men?

This weekend, as I greedily ingested every minute of this week’s radio drama on offer from the BBC, I came across a slow-burner, which has crept up on me and just scorched me in my face. White Snow is available on the iPlayer for the next five days and I urge you to drink it…

How a very old-fashioned family broke my heart

Like a fine wine, with each coming year I become a bit more feminist.  Having spent my life surrounded by men and conforming to patriarchy and playing their sexist and misogynistic games, at some point I became reluctant to join in and eventually I became sickened and outraged and principled.  There were tipping points along…

My #EdFringe Review

It was my first time at the Fringe and I spent a gratuitous six days completely avoiding theatre and exclusively watching comedy shows – in between bouts of crepe-eating. Stand-up The first night started well with Stuart Goldsmith’s show “Prick”.  Stuart came across as rather more charming than the title of the show would suggest…