The third time I walked past the library, I noticed she was still sitting there… reading glasses pushed into her short curly hair, tray of cupcakes in front of her… alone. “Hello,” I said, sitting down on the seat closest… Continue Reading
Fifty years ago, Great-uncle Stanton was a successful author of supernatural horror. His heroes were always brash and unafraid when the reader would have been cowering, while the man behind the typewriter was painfully private, writing under an opaque alias… Continue Reading
“We’re only here because we love you.” I come home from the grocery store to find my living room filled with family and friends. It smells like cake. But it’s not my birthday. “Sit down.” I would rather stand. In… Continue Reading
The earth was flat, and you could commit suicide without worrying about being a nuisance. You could jump right off the edge, not so much dead as gone. No one had to fish out your body. Pat’s mother knocked on… Continue Reading
One Wednesday morning in the middle of March, Isaac Thomas arrived at his father’s house to find the elderly poet recumbent on the attic staircase, holding onto a Christmas tree. The tree, which Isaac recognized from his childhood, lay on… Continue Reading
Captain Montgomery Ffitch (retired) finished pouring pine needles into the bee smoker and switched off the television. He’d been disheartened to hear the lockdown was due to end. Bojo and his government cronies were itching to open the country up… Continue Reading
The playwright Seagal Pilchard was known for his great love for his cat, Peabody. An affection I can well and personally attest to. The first time I met Saggy was at his apartment nearby the harbour. I had been convinced… Continue Reading
I did not know my zayde was a writer until the day of my bat mitzvah in March 1989. Everyone was congratulating me on my bat mitzvah but also him on his newest book. For my bat mitzvah, he gave… Continue Reading
25 May, 2014: Sir Terry knew that he did not have long. Not as a writer, not as a living human being. He was in no mood to humor the fan who approached him wearing a hooded cloak with a… Continue Reading
The characters in my first novel refuse to be written; they think only of themselves, never of me. They keep their distance, and their own counsel. I think it’s unbecoming, really, in fictional characters, to be so standoffish — unless… Continue Reading