Regular Movement

‘It’s weird, you know, you tell a story like it is created in some kind of vacuum, but you know it isn’t, so I don’t know why you insist on continuing the pretense that it is.’ ‘If you don’t maintain the notion…

There’s something feeding on stories, following the story-lions around in their prides; some kind of scavenger pack, they’ve nick-named them jack-alls, because they seem to be some formed from some kind of undifferentiated ideational tissue. The Chief Headitor Spence was moving his…

don’t right what you write fight for the flight poly ticks in boxes takes an ear and docks it takes a fear and clocks it puts it in his pocket broken stages in a rocket lock it in a locket take a…

It’s kind of interesting to me sometimes that very rarely have I read much about the freedom that routine in writing brings. What you generally get is a notion that it is necessary, but usually because you have to produce a lot…

So, as an idea, Regular Movement is meant to push my work ethic and keep me rolling. So if I miss two days, but in that time I write a lot, then I don’t feel so bad about it. I have definitely…

The crinkly edges of complexity are a fractal glitch of longshore drift. The son is a sun is a glowing nuclear ball that tucks and rolls like a pebble through the in and out of a tide that is taking a shore…

sum days add up to an overflowing cup we are throwing away sense of humour to be serious and mundane treat every issue like a proliferating tumour let it equal one pain that overwhelms, that underwhelms who is at the helm? just…

Kind of following on from my previous story, which was a resurrection, comes Red Wolf, which was another story that I developed as a kid but never really had the maturity to bring it to fruition. It’s great to go back and…

They set light to the horizon with a tac-nuke – a slow burn destined to be the only source of light under a bruise black sky. Red Wolf One was in geosynchronous orbit forty eight hours later, and Alpha Dog was sat…

pavlov your non-thinking dogs stacked together like lincoln logs don’t ask for whom the bell tolls have no conception of their eternal souls like a log each of them rolls spinning on the spot in a log jam held barking after they…