I’ve written a new short story to mark #AlienDay426, and you can read it completely free right here.
March wasn’t one of my best writing months, but despite missing a bunch of days, it turned out to be almost as productive as February. Which was weird.
I finally caught up with Terminator: Genisys this weekend and it’s fair to say that I viewed it with the same sense of disappointment and rising disinterest that the rest of you probably experienced—and not just because Netflix seemed to be working on dial-up speeds (oh, the irony!) at the time.
Here’s a thing I wrote for Facebook, and forgot to post, because that’s exactly the sort of diligent political commentator that I am. Once I’d finished it, it seemed a bit too meaty for FB so I decided to make it a rare non-writing related post right here …. it’s about Donald Trump, and a what an enormous fustercluck this whole business is …
Well, it’s March already which means it’s time to share with you all the gory details about my writing exploits during February. (It wasn’t actually gory, of course … apart from that one time …)
The other week I re-edited one of my more popular short stories, Graves. To accompany the new(ish) version I decided a new cover design was warranted. Since cover design is one of the many burdens of the self-publishing author I thought I’d share the story of how it all came together.
I did a brief update on my January writing efforts a couple of weeks ago, but here’s the formal update with stats and all sorts of exciting stuff.
I’m having an unusually productive writing month at the moment, and a typically unproductive lunchbreak, so why not share with you the current status of some of my short story writing projects?
I claimed I wasn’t going to write anything about Bowie, and here I am with a second post in the same week. I’ll keep it short.
I really wasn’t going to write anything about Bowie. I figured there was nothing I could say that thousands of other people hadn’t already written or thought. Then I realised maybe that was the point. His passing, while terrifically sad, seems less about the grief and more about the joy that we were able to share him at all. There’s joy to be had from what he left behind, and that each of us got to have him in our lives. He was the consummate outsider. He was different to anyone who has ever been or ever will be. But we will always remember him for the way he reflected a small part of each of us back at ourselves.
Below is my experience of Bowie. Does it match yours?