Views of Home

Photography: Views of home

I'm slightly obsessed with giant outdoor light bulbs. These solar-powered ones don't light up much during the winter (this is Scotland, we don't get a lot of sunlight!) but they still do interesting things with reflections.

Short fiction: A mountain with a funeral smile

Short fiction: A mountain with a funeral smile

There’s a tender stillness, a blessed inertia, as we watch each other. Again, he tries to make himself remember something he’ll inevitably forget. Again, I try to believe that this time, he’ll manage it. We both know we’re lying to ourselves, but we let it happen.

Writing update: Publishing changes, accepting my truth and following my heart

Writing update: Publishing changes, accepting my truth and following my heart

I've been going through a substantial shift in how I feel about writing. I'm not going to get into the hows and whys of it all because this would end up being ridiculously long, but there's been significant change happening and I wanted to share that with you.

Short fiction: Today, in case you didn't know

Short fiction: Today, in case you didn’t know

I would give you half my body if I could, for all it’s worth. I would rip it apart with my bare hands and carry it to you in a heart shaped box or a cut glass coffin or bleeding through my fingers.

Some very short (neo-noir) stories from December 2018

Some very short (neo-noir) stories from December 2018

My love affair with the #vss365 (very short story every day) hashtag game on Twitter continues and I have another selection to share with you. Although my very short stories aren't specifically linked to the book I'm working on, the neo-noir tone of my current project found its way into a lot of December's Tweets.

Poetry: New year, revolution and hands

Poetry: New year, revolution and hands

Omen fly. Our palms are siege engines...

Macro photograph of a burning wooden candle wick.

Photography: Mountains of Fire

With a macro lens and a bit of imagination, a burning wooden candle wick can become a fiery mountain range.

Short fiction: The latest becoming of Death

Short fiction: The latest becoming of Death

Sometimes it feels like we’re the only ones who really see each other. Inevitable and invisible. They look at anything but us. We have those kind of faces. The face of a clock, the face of the light they see at the end. Or what they imagine is the end. Whatever.

Presence: My focus word for 2019

Presence: My focus word for 2019

Instead of making new year's resolutions, I've chosen a focus word. I want, need, to immerse myself in the now, in all the nows. So here's to 2019 - my year of presence.

Poetry: December, sweet hunter

Poetry: December, sweet hunter

Cold sun rises slow to the watery half-height of afternoon morning, frost lit like magic, unmelting...