Caroline Smailes – Letter To My Readers
Yes, I am talentless, you’re right. An utterly unconvincing stab at magic realism, dreadful. And yes, I’m ugly too. Yes,…
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Yes, I am talentless, you’re right. An utterly unconvincing stab at magic realism, dreadful. And yes, I’m ugly too. Yes,…
I’ve lately begun to employ exercise books of the type I used as a child; copybooks of eighty or so…
Email services offer automated replies, as if we are too lazy, too sybaritic, too thoughtless, to write ‘thank you’ ourselves.…
We make a fire at dusk and dance around it in wild leaps to stave off the sharp chill of…
The thing I recall about the Mark Billingham and Val McDermid event is the sheer pleasure experienced by the audience.…
My thoughts associate freely as I swim among the ducks, coots and moorhens with their chicks. The solution inevitably bubbles…
The idea of being a writer is essentially a fabrication, and never is that more obvious than just after publication…
I travelled the county, then the country, then the world. Swimming got me into writing; an anonymous report on the…
The creative part of my brain, that had written countless scripts, configured myriad plots, conjured hundreds of characters, had simply…
Regardless of when I went to bed, I was awake by five a.m., exhausted, and with the feeling I’d lost…
In the Hay green room, I once met Carlos Fuentes. I admired him so much that I took a selfie…
Interactivity has been a disaster for writers. Famously susceptible to procrastination, writers are avid for distraction. Interactivity, I would argue,…