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Category Archives: flimflam

New shoes

Stick, twist or fold? The angst of the unproven writer. With apologies for navel-gazing and lack of tomfoolery.

Rejection song

Reminiscing about rejection songs, as I mark yet another step in becoming a writer – my first rejection letters from literary agents.

National Navel Gazing Month

As the Great Eric once said, when the cats follow the sardine tin, it is because they wish to perform on the Miaow Factor.

I am a duck, I swim

Where the author compares himself to a duck, for the purposes of procrastination and distraction. Quack. And indeed, quackers.

Writing blind, running wet

Being self-employed is a world away does not equal working from home. And the sooner your author accepts this, the easier his life will become.

The early bird and the secret squirrel

The early bird catches the worm. The Taste the Difference worm. The magna cum laude worm. The Magnum PI worm. The ear worm and the warm worm. But, the question that one must inevitably ask is … is it the worm that turned?

The Grand Notional of Liff

Ivan ponders the odds of God existing, butterflies fighting with monkeys and the number of stripes that must exist for a pair of stripey tights to be worthy of the name.

Morning yellow pages

Ok. So I have spent a little time today so far on ‘Stay White’, one of the ‘Shoes’ series. I’ve added a character – an elder sibling – and I’m considering a fairly major change to the structure and story. I don’t know whether to be concerned at this stage that this [...]

La gazza ladra

There I was, in the Old Town, merrily carousing with my new-found partners in fiction Paolo and Giulio, when suddenly ‘kataplof’. My mojo was distracted. By facts. And opportunities. And pretensions to commentary on historical things. About Which I Knew Nada. Nothing. And Nuffink. In that order.

Brioche crouton, vicar?

Regular readers, or for those who can’t be arsed, you can pop back one entry, will know that I suffer from the Friends TOAST episode  (The One About Self-indulgent Thoughts).  Well, my toast was well and truly buttered last night.  Despite me not being buttered.  Or battered.  Or bettered, for that matter.
I had one of [...]