I think the term tomboy does little to explain the joy of the girl who just likes to "go for it!"
I remember a friend when I was in my late teens who was regarded as a bit of a tomboy. She was so little understood by both girls and boys of our age group, and yet she was far more "female" if you like than anyone else I knew. She just liked climbing trees. So, here is a poem.
Johnson Farthing shifts Dirt for a living. That is his lot. The bottom of the pile with no future, no expectations and no reason to think anything is going to change.
And then, his sister is kidnapped and his world is turned on it's head.
A poem about strangers who meet and talk, drink some wine, share ancient memories and regrets, talk about the loves they have had and where they went wrong. And slowly they realise how similar they are.
I have decided to clean up and release the OneNote notebook template I use for planning Novels.
OneNote is perfect for this kind of work and is now free - how kind.
Whatever the publicists tell you, writing should always be primarily selfish - if you are not writing for yourself, then what is the point?
Part of my fun is letting myself fall into the trap of a sub-plot or an aside; a little journey away from the main thrust.
I am working on a song at the moment, rearranging the music to some of my words.
Here are the lyrics and when I have finished the arrangement, I will post it on youtube.
A collection of short poems that try to define single aspects of love. After all, if love were just one thing, what an inadequate emotion it would be.
This will grow as time goes on, so come back soon!
One drawback of working on a series of books in a make believe world is that I find myself constantly trying to think up names for places and characters.
Really, I could use anything, but something inside tells me that I need to think it through a little more than that.
A small selection of short verses and poems, some of them posted on Twitter at some point.
I quite enjoy writing odd thoughts like these; it gets my brain going, makes me stop and think and generally is rather fun.
It is in the middle, A space in between the moments experienced, And never obscene....
What does Wednesday mean to you? Just another day, or do you take a breath?
There are a few times in my life when I have felt so close to someone that if the situation had been different, something more would have happened. But it was the wrong moment, or the wrong setting or just seemed the wrong thing to do. Even if it was the right person.
A smile that waited, With soft breath held so...
The wonder of that time spent with someone, a poem about the joy of the morning and the fear that it will all go away
If I forgot that it was morning, and the towering sky was arched over...
Sometimes a writer's life seems to be endless circles of sitting there just trying to get you head round what the hell you are meant to be doing there in the first place....
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Girls of Dirt includes a recap of series one.
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North London, 1976. The longest, hottest summer on record. The water is running out and the kids hate their parents. Which bunch of idiots would think it is a good idea to start a band?