I go to Malvern to meet with a couple from New Zealand. They’re both gorgeous. I feel plain and unpleasant. He is a builder and a rugby player. She works in marketing. They have a Rottweiler. Their rugby friends come around a lot, they tell
This afternoon, a clever lady linked me to something I can't believe I hadn't seen before. You might have already seen it, but just in case, it is this: Neil Gaiman Addresses the University of the Arts Class of 2012 from The University of the Arts
If you like to read the things that I write, and I hope you do, I have a project on Pozible that might interest you. Check it out » Sometimes I write things. Often, actually. I'm an oversharer. I write things on the internet that are
“I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore.” Hang on, this isn’t what we rehearsed! Take it back! He’ll leave! “I can’t - I hate it. We fight constantly. When we’re not fighting, I’m just waiting for us to start fighting. Even when it’s good. It
It's a funny thing, being too depressed to write. And by 'funny' I mean 'so horrifically unfair and devastating', P.S. I write much better about the sad things when I'm not sad (though it usually takes me a couple of days afterward to feel anything
The name Heather has featured in a lot of my writing, and she's always the same sort of character: self-loathing, lost, lonely. One day I hope she'll come out full fledged. This challenge was to choose a random sentence from a nearby paperback, then write a