A Slow Death Reviewed
I have an admission to make: I love melancholy: that sense of ennui at the human condition, a despair at the inevitable entropy and ending of everything, and – bubbling just under it – the anger at man’s impotence in the face of a world that just won’t be set right....
My New York
The first time I went to New York was in 1993. The Twin Towers still stood, monolithic orientation points that allowed the visitor to tell uptown from downtown. The city – pre the Giuliani and Bloomberg sandblasting of its gritty façade – was the ultimate grown-up,...
How I Write – The Plot
Writing fiction is not always hard. It’s not always easy, either. Oh, I know some people would love us all to believe the image of the tortured artist agonising for years over the right word – something between Proust and Joyce – whilst others would see all...
Autumn Salsa
Some debate, recently, around when Autumn starts: Is it immediately after the end of August, or does the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness kick in the September Equinox (23rd, this year)? For me, it feels like it started this week. It’s been the saddest summers...
Why I Write
I come from a story telling people. The Irish – the Celts - didn’t retain their personalities, their cultures, for as long as they did by simply painting themselves blue and waving their arses at invaders*. They did it by telling stories; by turning the everyday into...
How to be Terrified
Write. Your whole life. Tell Stories to your family, to your friends and – sometimes – to total strangers. Write one of these stories down. Write another. Write a book. Read it. Decide it’s not very good. Write another. And another. Read this one. Laugh. A lot. Decide...