If you are asked to look back on a person’s life, or your relationship with that person, you are quite often asked, ‘What picture comes to mind? What does that memory look like?’ And so I thought back over my life and I wondered what pictures I had of me…

They say that a blank sheet of paper frightens some people. Pristine and unspoiled, it might be A4 or A5 but it is also boundless and infinite. It has no sense of scale. A single mark on its surface might represent an atom or the entire universe. The very moment…

Most of the short fiction that I write is actually quite long, a fair few thousand words at least. I’m not sure why. I suppose those stories tell me that is the length they want to be and I think matters of pace and rhythm demand to be heard and…

Yesterday morning we cut two fields of hay and it has barely stopped raining since. The pale crop lies sodden on the ground, fallen soldiers of some drizzle-soaked, mizzle-drenched massacre. If this weather doesn’t clear up they will have met the reaper for nothing. …

My second collection of short stories, VISCERA, has just been published by Climbing Tree Books. This very short piece of fiction was the beginnings of a story written for that collection but eventually not included. ‘Anything to declare?’ asked the official. The refugee looked up at him, perched safely behind…

‘Are you going to do a dedication for the book?’ asked the big boss, my sensei, William the publisher. I think I ignored the question. ‘Sure you don’t want to do a dedication? You know, just something simple like, “To Felix, my cat, who laughs at all my jokes.” I…

We adjourned to a small coffee house near to the centre of town where we discussed our upcoming venture, to wit the publication of a number of stories that I have seen fit to write. I love the Dickensian scratchy-pen, ink-stained-fingers feel about writing, even when I’m doing it on…

In the winter, the beach is a painting. A smudged landscape, sea-grey and sky-blue, where charcoal stick figures throw balls for dogs and rubber-black surfers climb foaming peaks. But in the summer, it’s a postcard. A saucy, salacious snapshot of too much flesh exposed to too much sun. Kiss me…

Poor old Facebook. Or, “Why Are There so Few Really Good Ads on There” Facebook wants to be a paid-for advertising media. No, that isn’t quite right. Facebook is a paid-for advertising platform. Last year the company made roughly $18 billion, the vast majority of that coming from ad revenue…