•November 24, 2009 •
1 Comment
Anne Lyken-Garner is the author of How to Spend L£ss (downloadable here), and our regular non-fiction host on a Tuesday. Every week she shares wonderful advice based on the book, so, as we’ve been speaking to our novelists with books out on december 1st, we thought it only fitting to sit down and spend some time with Anne, getting to know about her, and her book. Here she is, in her own words:
1. You say you’ve tried and tested the techniques in your book. Trying them out must have given you some great anecdotes
Yes, and a cupboard full of stuff which I had to remember the taste of. Trying different products is exciting, but I had to also remember the taste to be able to make a proper comparison. This was the hardest bit. Continue reading ‘A Word with Anne Lyken-Garner’
Posted in Anne Lyken-Garner
•November 23, 2009 •
4 Comments
I was in a car with a Pole who knew all the words to the Moulin Rouge theme song. We swept over hills through fields of wheat white and starched in the heat.
Artur waved a finger in the air and sloped his shoulders to the rhythm just like Christina Aguilera in the video as he sang, “Touch of her skin feeling silky smooth/Color of cafe au lait,” in falsetto.
Sometimes we would pass these women standing in the trees not wearing much like refuges from a bygone day-glo era and he would slow a bit, roll down the window and shout, “Hey prostitute, how much for the two of us?”
This was inflected with a gesture in my direction.
Continue reading ‘Poland’
Posted in Flash Fiction, Marcella O'Connor
•November 23, 2009 •
4 Comments
She would never forget the day her father cracked. It was after an especially enjoyable dinner with friends of their family. The food had looked wonderful, and the wine with which they had been filled was one of the best that this young wine glass had experienced. The conversation around the table had been stimulating and the atmosphere warm and she had been especially proud of her clear, high notes as she had bumped into her five family members, complementing the ‘cheers’ of the diners perfectly.
She thought back to the first time she had been released from the cardboard box, with the card dividers to protect herself and the other members of her family. The light had poured in as the box was opened. Her mum was the first to be selected by that human hand, at first a stranger to them, but in time as familiar as the plates and cutlery with which they shared many a meal. Her mum had not been her mum until that moment. Continue reading ‘Wine Glasses’
Posted in Simon Betterton, short fiction
•November 22, 2009 •
12 Comments
The Dictators are playing on Potrero Hill.
It’s hot. I go and stand out back.
The only other person out back is a tall young guy.
Heavily tattooed and scarred and he’s smoking a cigar.
What’s your favorite number? he asks me.
Seven.
He holds up his middle finger.
There’s a seven tattooed on it.
He drives a cab.
He’s well read.
I guess he had a lot of time to read in jail.
Armed robbery, he says.
I don’t say anything, just stare at the busines card he presses in my hand.
That’s my beeper number, he says, you know, if you ever need a cab. Just put in the number seven. I’ll know it’s you. Continue reading ‘Fifteen minutes from the Golden Gate Bridge’
Posted in Daisy Anne Gree
Tags: cabs, north beach, potrero hill, San francisco, the dictators, weezer
•November 21, 2009 •
25 Comments
This article started out as a discussion on one of twitter’s #writechat sessions about character flaws. On Armistice Day I opened up a discussion on my blog that provided a huge amount of thought-provoking material. I’d like to thank everyone who contributed there, and hope that this article is more balanced as a result.
A fortnight ago, Marc Nash wrote a wonderful article, Pain, in which he posed the question whether it’s possible for writers to write a reader’s pain. It has, by dint of accident, the fascinating subject matter, and the quality of Marc’s thought, become somewhat programmatic for our recent works, and indeed will provide the introduction to the forthcoming anthology Thirteen Shadows Waiting for Sunrise. There has been some incredible discussion, some breathtaking writing, and some very deep soul-searching. But the question I want to consider now is, for writers, far more sinister and disturbing than writing pain. I want to know if it’s possible to write peace. Continue reading ‘Peace to all (except writers)’
Posted in Articles, Dan Holloway