writing

I'm reading "Something Three" at Sparks in Brighton tonight. Venue: Upstairs at the Three and Ten. Starts: 8pm. Price £5 on the door.

Also reading (or being read) are Steve Finbow, Melissa Mann, Sara Crowley, Joel Willans, Jo Horsman and Anna Britten.

A neat twist on the usual reading setup is that a themed image will be projected behind the reader for each story. I think I caught a glimpse of mine on Jo H's Facebook the other day but I can't be sure...

...a short short short of mine, is online at Six Sentences...

http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/2008/10/six-by-six-issue-1.html

...in a dinky little animated magazine with turning pages.

I've been without a dedicated writing space for some time. There's a room to the front of the house that is all but ready for me; it's almost square, two metres wide by two metres-ish long. Painted white (a blank page cubed, if you will), it's in need of a floor and rendered unusable by ten years of accrued junk piled high around its walls.

In the meantime I scratch out corners and surfaces for myself throughout the rest of the house. On the bed, in the living room (only one corner does the job), in the back room.

Until recently, I was a member of an online writing group. I had been for years. But I had to leave. It was driving me quite stupid.

Or so it goes in my recent dreams.

I stand before an audience of varying sizes and moods, naked for some reason known only to myself and the event organisers who have so far failed to save my embarassment.

I have a three page story in my hand which I'm expected to read. It opens with "And I am just as suddenly here" but since this is such an incorrect opening I can't work out just how to say it. However I say it will be wrong but I can't settle on which wrong way. My lower jaw begins to work up and down, vague sounds emanating, but nothing that reflects what's on the page.