My mother Esme looks old and ailing. I am pained by the stories in her face. 'Shingles' ought to be a playground game, or the name of a children's entertainer.
She hands me the tiny volume as I busy to leave: Shakespeare's Merry Wives soft-leathered in miniature.
We both know why, she says.
The job that saved her, all those years ago.
On the cover, four tiny words: The Play's the Thing.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Anthology
It's glossy. There are stars! It looks far better than I thought it would.
I knew what it was by the postmark, but it was still thrilling.
It's slim but undeniably book-like: the paper smells new-made.
First timer, that's me!
It's probably my best, sweetest and quietest triumph.
I knew what it was by the postmark, but it was still thrilling.
It's slim but undeniably book-like: the paper smells new-made.
First timer, that's me!
It's probably my best, sweetest and quietest triumph.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Five Lines
What shall I do? I asked dearest Dee over drunken dinner (you can tell it was tonight, that's quite a bad sentence, alliteratively speaking). I love my blog; I love my blog readers. My blog is what taught me to take my writing seriously, it's the best thing I've done in years - and I am stretched so thin I don't know how to keep writing. What shall I do?
Write five lines, she said. Regularly. Commit to that. If you just write five lines...
Dee's good on ideas.
So here they are. Tonight's Five:
I have become one of those juggling people you read about in the papers.
Our lives have turned themselves upside down.
I feel as though I have grown limbs, each one pulled for a piece of my time.
I weep for the moments I no longer have with Anna-mouse.
And I .. ( go on, Liv, say it)... I love my new job.
Write five lines, she said. Regularly. Commit to that. If you just write five lines...
Dee's good on ideas.
So here they are. Tonight's Five:
I have become one of those juggling people you read about in the papers.
Our lives have turned themselves upside down.
I feel as though I have grown limbs, each one pulled for a piece of my time.
I weep for the moments I no longer have with Anna-mouse.
And I .. ( go on, Liv, say it)... I love my new job.
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