The author, his writing and more
Listen to the author reading The boy who told himself stories.The beginnings of the story…
Even as a kid I used to tell myself stories. All the time. In my bed, at school, on the high street, in the library, on the bus home or the train, out on my bike roaming the countryside.… Read more
“We raise our fists in salute, not in threat but as a sign of solidarity. In those fingers held tight we embrace everyone however different they may be. Gay. Trans. Straight. Black. Brown. Yellow. White. All colours of the rainbow. All are welcome in our London.”… Read more
England for me is singing as a boy in the church choir in cassock, surplice and ruff. It is the treble descant rising in the nave and the hiss of the organ as the stops are pulled out. It is the clang of bells ringing changes and the rise and fall of colourful sallies in bellringers’ hands.… Read more
Almost every day I go for a long walk in the forest above our home, pausing from time to time to sit and write the next paragraphs of my latest book. As I walk, I turn over ideas and words for my book while trying to fend off the myriad other stories that bustle for my attention.… Read more
Out walking every morning before breakfast I take photos and have ideas for my books and stories, but this morning was the first time I composed a complete ultra-short story (or is it a poem) on my phone while I was out.… Read more
Who would have thought that an empty box could cause such a stir? When George cracked a joke about just such a box, he couldn’t have imagined what was about to happen. Read my short story, The Empty Box to find out what occurred.… Read more
Mr. Hammer has a problem, several of them in fact, but nothing he can’t handle, until, that is, he finds an old red bag abandoned on his doorstep. Mr. Hammer’s spell, 839 words. Here’s a short extract from the beginning.… Read more
Read my latest short story entitled The Chapel. Here are the opening sentences:
The latch clicks shut as I pull the porch door closed and feel my way in the dark. A faint hint of incense hangs in the air, vying with distant memories of flowers.… Read more
