Author: The Haphazard Writer

The Cursed Book Release Trailer

When I first wrote my debut novel, I was still in school a sixth-former being pressured into undertaking extra-curricular activities, one of which was the arts award. Here follows the saga of not one, but three failures of technology that thwarted my attempts to achieve the silver award, in a feat which frankly, I begin … Continue reading The Cursed Book Release Trailer →

Cover Art for a Second Edition

So a few months back I mentioned that I was going to let The Forsaken Ones be. But last night, at around 3 am, I went on an editorial spree after thinking for a considerable amount of time in the dark, drunk on insomniac exhaustion, that I would like to write a prequel. And then … Continue reading Cover Art for a Second Edition →

In the Dunes

Each morning in the dunes began in a fine sea-salt mist, with the waves down at the beach calling me to the water's edge, and out... The walks atop the sand and grass were scratchy. Pointed blades nipped through fabric. But the sun shone through the morning haze, the wind filled my city-lungs with clean … Continue reading In the Dunes →

The Problem With Dead White Men: A Response to a Response

David Didau's simplistic rebuttal of Mary Bousted relies on a deliberately sustained ignorance of the formation of the canon and the history of women's and peoples of former colonies writing. This is especially disturbing as he is a public speaker influential amongst teachers and teacher training providers.

A Walk Around Tintagel

Tintagel. One of my favourite spots in the world. I recently took a trip down to Cornwall. Anyone who's read my debut novel will know it is a place that holds deep meaning for me. So this blog has been quiet for a while. It has been a hectic time for this already very disorganised … Continue reading A Walk Around Tintagel →

Granddad

On the 28th of May this year, I said, not goodbye, but take care, farewell, to my granddad, a warm, affectionate, loving man, who loved his family, was there for us always. I miss him more than I know how to say. Though I laid a rose on his coffin, it doesn't feel real, that … Continue reading Granddad →

The Leather Skirt

The leather skirt is sitting in the wash basket. It has no stains, not a mark that you could see. But its dirty. I washed it a few times before but it never really gets clean. I threw it in a bin once. But it came back. And I thought, I’ll give it another chance. … Continue reading The Leather Skirt →

Lilith’s Curse

My hopes they blossomed but never bloomed Hanging on Weighing down these branches As they swelled matured pendulous, parasitic, they rotted from the inside out but never fell, their weight bore down until these branches cracked. Hot fissures opened up my twisted life tree at the very core broken but growing on, its hands reaching … Continue reading Lilith’s Curse →

Ursula K Le Guin, a Return to Ecofeminist Science Fiction

Re-imagining the Natural: Putting the World to Rights in the Fictional Ecotones of Cavendish, Lane and Le Guin Part 4