From a short distance it looked like an installation. Someones forgotten works, from long ago, a hollow frontage, a canvas for some kids to tell a story on. The windows, once openings to gaze through, were filled in, replacements, clumsy and childlike were scrawled over the boards. Some had plants on the windowsill, another had… Continue reading Writing on Wednesdays #7
From the one you throw stones at when I sit on your garden wall. Hi from the street. This is my kingdom. The trash laden back alleys, full of forgotten toys, thrown away by children who got something better last year for Christmas. Once I might have had a home, a vague memory of somewhere,… Continue reading Writing on Wednesdays #2
The voice of a story be it first person, an omniscient third person narrator, a third person focalised narrator (where the narrator is separate but not necessarily as distant as your standard omniscient voice) is often overlooked, going unnoticed; like a transparent filter we read through but are unaware of. I remember the first time… Continue reading ‘Look at this tangle of thorns’: Narrative Voice and Deception.