I have been writing since I was a child, for me back then the only thing better than writing was to read. I continued that escape as an adult, took Creative Writing at university, joined writing groups to hone my abilities, wrote for pleasure and for business.
Now I write for me.
(inspired by the lyric video for Hammock “The Night You Caught Fire”
A thorny issue, this forgiving business. I can’t speak for other faiths but I know from my upbringing that christians are taught that to forgive is divine. Yet how many of us approach divinity?
Sitting in a Starbucks, thinking about fear. It’s a strange thing is fear, it tugs at your sleeve constantly as a reminder that you’re talentless, imperfect, a blight that the perfect tolerate with amusement.
Graveyard roses. I planted some for you. They bloom brighter and sweeter with each passing year.
Memories can be a blessing or a curse, and my memories of Morecambe’s West End are both. Tap shoes and toothache.
We connect through our shared humanity. We grow through our differences. Be human. Be different. Be kind.
I felt I needed to go out and find someone else, someone to replace the *gaping void* that was supposed to be in my newly single life. But that gaping void, like the cake, is a lie.
It always amuses me when people talking about guilty pleasures, I mean, why feel guilty about what you find pleasurable? It kinda negates the experience.
Be here now in the moment.
Enveloped by the blanket of poverty.
Not warm, comforting, safe … but smothering and itchy
Woven from worry wool.
I've been so conflicted lately, I have always had an interest in fantasy and fairies and elves and the endless possibilities yet there's also a science-y tech-y side to me which wants to pooh-pooh the woo. But then, journaling out my thoughts the other day I had a...
There have been so many changes in myself and my life over the last few years which have brought me to this place of emergence into a new life