Why do some novels make we want to write?
It’s certainly not a feeling that I could do better. That couldn’t be further from the truth. But this inspiration doesn’t happen with everything I read. I’ve noticed lately that while I may have enjoyed two books equally, one of them will make me itch to pick up a pen or reach for my keyboard, and the other I’ll enjoy simply as a reader.


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Which 3 writers, living or dead, would you invite to dinner?
Noel Streatfield. All-time heroine, and apparently the first children's writer to make book tours into an event and be really glamorous. I'd love to ask her about that. JK Rowling. For all the obvious reasons. And to talk about how she's getting on with changing the lives of children in Eastern Europe. Petrarch. I once got to hold his Rime in the Vatican Library (long story), with his own writing and rubbing out! Was overwhelmed by a sense of kleptomania, held in check only by the Swiss Guard at the door. I'd love to talk to him about how great the South of France is. And poetry. If I could have a fourth, it would be Caitlin Moran. I've admired her since she was a teenager and I've just discovered her on Twitter. And can I have Meg Cabot too? Please?And Aaron Sorkin, so I can fall at his feet about how good the West Wing was? Plus Petrarch will need another bloke to talk to. The writer who's given me the most pleasure over the years is PG Wodehouse, but I feel as if I know him so well already, so I'm happy with six.


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Thinking about fairies, my mind springs into a land of lilac and green. My whole bedroom is painted lilac (I was given the paint) and I stuck luminous stars on the ceiling with a crescent moon (was given them too) to bring a little magic into my life. The light shade is pale blue, an upside down cotton, four-sided pyramid with a tassel dangling about breast-height (this was another gift). If I could just get up off my arse and accessorise it would be little-people heaven, with crystals and all sorts of witchy bobbles. Actually, the ceiling is the only part of the room that could be called finished!

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Crossed Genres, the sience fiction and fantasy e-zine, have asked writers to post stories to encourage readers to donate money to charities helping in the Haiti crisis. If you enjoyed my own story (or even if you didn't) please click on the link below to see some of the charities involved and make a donation, or support any other charity you know of who are involved. There are links to many other stories on their site.

Crossed Genres website


This story has not yet been published... I hope you like it.

The Glassy Roll of the Eye

Louis had never broken a bone in his life and could have picked a better place than the New Mexico desert for his first experience. He’d left the motel early, hitching his way to where he’d heard there were some good rock art. The colors kept clear and bright in the dry heat, and some were as sharp as the day they had been painted.
Sketchbook under his arm, he had set out east, eyes roaming the landscape for likely material. He had filled fifteen pages when the accident happened. He was climbing down off a rock when he slipped and landed badly, feeling his ankle snap with a sickening jolt of pain. The rock hadn’t even been high.

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I started writing ‘seriously’ just over three years ago. At the time, I had one ‘child’ already flown the nest and another leaving school, heading to university. A new phase of my life was beginning and, wallowing in blissful ignorance, I knew which path I wanted to take - I wanted to write. I wanted to write novels. Lots of them. To be published. To have people read and love my words. To tell stories...I thought I knew what that entailed. Take out your laptop and er...write. I knew it couldn’t be quite that simple, but also naively wondered how hard could it be? I had absolutely no idea how steep (forget steep – try precipitous) the learning curve would be. How many twisted rungs the road to publication ladder would have? Hell, I thought ‘show and tell’ meant one of the girls taking their favourite cuddly toy into school with them.

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Why am I doing this, you may ask? Well, I wanted to know, partly for my own selfish reasons. I had heard mutterings about the lack of lit mags in this area compared to the US, but then I started hearing about new lit mags and more new lit mags.... and then I started doing a bit of research. And since I am living in the UK now, I want to know about everything that's going on. I want to know if it's true that the "short fiction scene" is dozing. Well, I think you'll see from what I gathered below that that is far from true.

I should qualify: when I say "lit mags", my definition is a magazine that publishes fiction, or fiction and poetry. There are a wealth of poetry-only magazines, see The Poetry Library for listings of poetry mags. I am not including them here because I wanted to keep this list to those which publish short stories. I also included the few live lit events I know about - since these are also "publication" opportunities for short story writers. Where possible, I have lifted the description from Duotrope, the essential writer's resource, and done my best to say if the magazine pays contributors - although "paying" could mean a monetary reward that is very very small!......................

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A first glance at the magazine discounts some of the literary events straight away – too far; too posh; too expensive; too crowded. I don’t want a gala dinner. I don’t want to hear the Dowager Duchess of Devonshire talking to David Blunkett. Too many places feature Margaret Drabble and/or Gervase Phinn. The dedicated-to-one-author ones look good, and likely to attract enthusiasts instead of poseurs – Dickens at Broadstairs, Grahame Greene at Berkhamstead, My top favourite would be the Harrogate Crimewriting Festival, except it’s in one (at least) of the discounted categories .


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Something’s happened to me over the last couple of months. I am no longer an aspiring Women’s Fiction novelist with simply four unpublished books under my bed. Now I’m an aspiring writer.

What’s changed? It started when I saw the movie Twilight and was captivated by the characters and plot. I scribbled down the first three chapters to a young teen book which eventually morphed into one for young adults. And yes, *chuckle*, there was a werewolf.

Then, suddenly, I thought of a story for a competition I’d been meaning to enter. 1000 words was the limit. Never, in five years of concentrated writing, have I been able to complete a short story as I always failed to come up with of a satisfactory ending. Since completing and entering that tale, however, I have submitted another to Fiction Feast. I am also about to take part in another competition with a limit of 1500 words.


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