Erstwhile non-fiction author, ghost & freelance writer for others, finally submitting work that floats my own boat, does my own thing. I'll deal with it if you can.
- Top Story - October 2023
The First Child
In September 2001, my wife experienced total miscarriage. That is to say; it wasn't just the kind of upsetting – even traumatic – miscarriage thousands of couples endure every year, but the result of an ectopic pregnancy that had implanted in the neck of the womb and stayed there for a month.
Out of my Father’s Footsteps
He never taught me to shave, or to drive a car, so it's easy to explain why it is I wear a beard and travel by bus. It has been over 30 years since he died, so you would have thought I could overcome difficulties by my own efforts by now. Unfortunately, I'm a late developer and only just escaping his shadow.
- Top Story - June 2023
The Unforeseen WithdrawalTop Story - June 2023
In the unforgiving heat of noon, Marcus and Stella contemplated the imposing structure of SunTrust Bank. The bank so impenetrable its vault opened right there, on the banking floor. A charming misdirection; there was another vault door beyond it.
- Runner-Up in Dancing with Distraction Challenge
Feeding the Machine
Mid-Level copywriting is running on fumes right now. By mid-level, I mean most website copy, most advertising features, most brochures and almost everything else mass-mailed, emailed or otherwise slipped into your life's letter box with the ease of a warm dog turd in a polythene sack.
The Parent's Encyclopedia
From the moment your kids are born, your life has changed forever. For the first couple of years of projectile vomiting and crying, things are relatively straightforward: You are held hostage by an autocratic terrorist cell that shits itself continually and wakes you up in the dead of night with a brain-buggering siren-like wail and an eye-watering, warm aromatic cloud of gas. After that, things become unpleasant.
If Walls Could Talk
If walls could talk then, speaking as a wall, we could only tell one story and it would take a long time to hear what we have to say. Walls have ears, of course, and long memories that serve us well, but our voices are extraordinarily slow, lugubrious and woebegone; every single syllable slides on long, low frequencies rooted in earth and stone.