Ella Skolimowski
Bio
Genre-bothering hack, mostly making theatre about migration, mental health, gender, sex, violence and death - but some of it's funny, I promise. Publishing memoirs and short fiction here.
Support me at https://ko-fi.com/ellaskolimowski
Stories (4/0)
On accidental plagiarism: a memoir about memory
In 2020, I wrote an ill-advised short about BDSM-gone-wrong. It was accepted to the Short + Sweet festival. Then my friend Seán pointed out it had the same plot as Stephen King’s Gerald’s Game. I had to withdraw it. Karoline Rose at Short + Sweet was kind enough to invite me to talk about the experience and the phenomenon of Cryptomnesia at the online conference that was held in place of the festival that year.
By Ella Skolimowski7 months ago in Writers
Dan has a neolithic face
Dan has a neolithic face. I don’t know how else to describe it. He has a flat, clean face, with dark brows sprawling across a bulging ridge. He has a long, straight nose, and his mouth is a flat line. He is tall and broad, an unmodulated chunk of a body, the type of person who always looks close to unleashing some kind of sporting aggression.
By Ella Skolimowski7 months ago in Fiction
Donkey porn, or, I don’t like hockey very much
I was not an athletic child. Not a team player. A little bit too compulsive. A little too lazy. A little too fat. It took me until I was 16 to work out an elegant solution to the problem. My school allowed you to select which activity you would like to do for games: hockey, aerobics, tennis, yoga, etc, etc. Often at the start of term someone decided they’d really like to do, I don’t know, croquet, and then changed their minds and switched to, I don’t know, needlework (are these sports? I don’t know, as I said, I wasn’t there). The croquet teacher would call the register and ask why a certain person was missing, and someone would pipe up “Oh no, so and so is doing needlework now.” So all I had to do was sign up to pétanque and hopscotch, and prime two friends: one to tell the pétanque teacher I was attending hopscotch, and one to tell the hopscotch teacher I was attending pétanque. And then I retired for a peaceful afternoon of drinking red wine in a wardrobe.
By Ella Skolimowski8 months ago in Confessions
