Writing fiction makes no sense at all. As an occupation that delivers scant financial reward, it is something only a fool would do. Logically, it is absurd to pursue it. After all, what does writing fiction contribute to an author’s well-being? Their sense of worth, stability, equilibrium and peace of mind? Absolutely nothing. Instead, it...
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And the Living is Easy …
Summer. Even the word has a softness about it – the sibilance of the ‘s’ then the two syllables of the word itself. Spring sounds like it is – it’s almost onomatopoeic. The word for the season of spring in Greek is the same as the word for ‘open’ – how appropriate and logical is...
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HEATWAVES – LITERAL AND LITERARY!
The thermometer in the shade on the balcony is displaying just under 40 degrees – yes, we are in the midst of a heatwave in Crete! In all the time I have spent on this magical island over the course of many years and seasons, I have never known such consistent high temperatures. It is...
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From MILLER STREET TO MY MOTHER – and the PSPA
In the summer edition of the PSPA* magazine, the driving force behind the creation of one of the characters in my recent novel is featured in an article I wrote for them. Here you can read my article in its entirety. *Progressive Supranuclear Palsy Association
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Let’s Hear it for 1974 …
The other day, sorting out my study and endeavouring to relieve it of unnecessary papers and files and random photographs cluttering drawers, shelves and boxes, I came across a yellowing few pages of a broadsheet newspaper – The Daily Express – for Monday February 25th 1974. Eagerly, I turned the enormous pages (how did people...
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LONG LIVE BOOKSHOPS!
Online book buying has become so second nature to many people that no doubt they never consider actually making a purchase in a real live shop. Just as high street shopping now has to compete with online retail, so bookshops lose customers seeking not only the convenience of buying from home, but also the satisfaction...
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A Year Without Seasons …
Of course it’s happened before. It’s not the first time theatres have been closed, you know, Voices – some sounding suitably sanctimonious – have reminded us. What about in Shakespeare’s time? There was the plague then, after all. Even as one of Shakespeare’s greatest devotees, I don’t find the parallel at all comforting. I mean...
