It's over. It's done. No more writing. Time to delete all the files, all the words, all the articles and the half finished novels and badly baked stories. Take down the blogs. Remove all the links and pictures. Burn all the reviews. Put the laptop in the microwave and swing the microwave to full power.… Continue reading Notes on Confidence.
Some nights, as the writer's about to go to sleep, she hears a voice. Something random. A snippet, a tannoy announcement, a passing comment, an opinion from a radio presenter. It invades her thoughts loudly, briefly and unannounced and is then gone. As time goes on, the voices become more frequent. More direct. They… Continue reading Notes on dialogue.
Without the artist there is nothing. There is no stage, no play, no audience. No lights, no script, no lines to remember for actors that don't exist. There is no box office. No tickets sold, no posters on the window, no leaflets, no programmes, no social media advertising. No applause, no wine sold at the… Continue reading Notes on – The Artist.
Rejection of your writing is the the best thing that can happen. It says you're doing something correct. Something right. When people reject something they are afraid of it. They don't know what it is, they don't understand what it's about, and they don't have the courage to follow through and find out. The majority… Continue reading Notes on Rejection.
His hands were shaking, the place was freezing. Grey stubble and long fingernails. The table was strewn breadcrumbs and a bowl of rotten fruit. Curtains blew in the open kitchen window, even though it was snowing outside. He'd been in an accident. I know this because he said: 'I was in an accident.' 'Was it… Continue reading The Hippies –
The writing wasn't paying the bills. Imagine that? Had to get some of what the experts called "real work." We were there to fix her wall. Her landlord had rang and said there was a big hole in it and could we do something. When we got there she couldn't open the front door.… Continue reading Side jobs –
John said: 'Thanks, will you call to my brother Martin?' 'I will, what number's he in?' '23. He's looking for it too.' I got to 23. Martin signed up, said: 'Will you call to my brother Paddy?' 'I will. What number is he in?' '24. Next door.' I got to 24. Paddy signed up,… Continue reading Jimmy-
I was in Australia. Working for a Sales company. I got the call around two. Fella called Joe had applied for a position. An Irishman like myself. Would I bring him for a spin and see what I thought? The job had a strong emphasis on personal appearance First impressions. Compliance with legal obligations and… Continue reading Joe Ninety.
Venice was full of Bridges and rain. €75 euro for a Gondola ride. Fuck that. Walked around. Found a hostel. €38 please. Cheapest going. What can you do? Sought after place. Checked in. Ate a weird cheese dish called Gnocchi with twelve other guests. They knew all about it. I was from Ireland and hadn’t… Continue reading Fear and Loathing in Venice.
He picked me up on the road cos I was hitching. He was eating a cone, licking the syrup, trying not to swerve. After the pleasantries, he hold me the story. He saw the dog on Done Deal. A beautiful King Charles for cheap money in Limerick. It took four hours and a lot of… Continue reading King Charles.