You know how writers sometimes beat ourselves up about not having achieved enough? It’s a pretty regular occurrence, so I thought rather than pitching headlong into the depths of despair over this, I might try a little exercise to help myself not do that this year. Continue reading “January Reads”
Yesterday felt to me like the first day of winter. It was definitely the first day of condensation concealing the view from the bedroom window. It was the first day I could see my breath on the air as I walked through the park in the morning. It was the first day I spotted frosty bits in the shadows (see feature image for evidence). Continue reading “Feeling Strangely Fine (PS NaNo is Coming)”
The festival has finished, the nights are drawing in, and it is time to reflect upon the sensory overload that has become my go-to excuse for not writing as much as I ought to in August.
This post, entitled An Intense Young Man At An Open Mic Night, could just as easily be called The One Where My Husband Writes A Book. Or the more passive aggressive One Where My Husband Has A Book Out Before I Do And Is Now Dead To Me. Or maybe The One Where My Husband Has A Book Out Next Week But It’s Only Poetry So Pfft. Continue reading “An Intense Young Man At An Open Mic Night”
There is a lot of spoken word to be had in Edinburgh. The city has open mic nights, slams, revues, experimental shows and all manner of opportunities for page and performance poets and storytellers. A firm favourite over the past six years has been Blind Poetics, but last week they bid the spoken word scene farewell. Continue reading “Goodbye, Blind Poetics”
In Edinburgh it is festival time.
Well, actually, it’s almost always festival time here. We can’t move for the things. We’ve got an art one, a film one, an international one, a fringe one, a book one, a jazz one, a magic one, a science one, a Mela one, and a Hogmanay one. But August is when we have the International, Fringe, Book and Mela festivals all at once, so I’m going to go ahead and refer to this month in particular as ‘festival time’.
Last week Terry Gilliam (yes, he of Monty Python, Brazil and Time Bandits fame – as if there could be another) visited Edinburgh to unveil a 10-metre long illuminated quotation from Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote. As you do. Continue reading “Words On The Street”
January is pretty rubbish, isn’t it. The festive season is over, taking all the treats away and replacing them with things like ‘veganuary‘ (surely more of a punishment than a lifestyle choice) and ‘not drinking’ (even though drinking in moderation is arguably healthier than abstaining before going on a binge in February) and ‘endless news stories about the weather‘. None of it really makes you feel very much like creating art, or even going outside really. Continue reading “Fake It Til You Make It”
A few months ago our letting agency hiked up the rent on our Edinburgh flat, using some flimsy pretext of ‘current market conditions’ to justify themselves. Heartbroken, Mildly irritated, my poet husband and I set about looking for a cheaper garret to hang our moleskines. Continue reading “When Writers Move House”