In 2009, I did my first show at the Edinburgh Free Fringe. I was coming up for sixty and very intimidated by the other younger and experi...

For those who are SO sad, SO angry, SO without hope. I’ve written and talked before about how I started to write but this is my first blo...

Writing last week about song lyrics and their link to poetry and vice versa, https://www.newstatesman.com/2019/01/literature-lyrics-0?fbc...

A few weeks ago, I visited a writer friend of several decades. She lives in the top floor flat of a mansion block in London. As ever, as ...

This morning, Marianne went back to Flint Road. She didn’t feel nervous in an empty house even though it’s detached, set back from the ro...

As a rule I write fiction containing a pinch of fact from my own history but for my present novel I've reversed this process and much of ...

I'm writing about my mother and wishing I had more photographs depicting her at different stages of her life. This is what interests me -...

This morning trying to finish a piece of writing, I was too late to catch the 10.18 bus taking me up the West Hill to the allotment. I se...

From dream to fiction and back again. I was the child in a house with a man and a woman. Although the house was unfamiliar, I knew I bel...

With Wix Blog, you’re not only sharing your voice with the world, you can also grow an active online community. That’s why the Wix blog c...