Interview: Susan E Wadds

Interview: Susan E Wadds

December 04, 2017

I generally work from an idea or an image. Sometimes it will literally take decades for something that’s touched me to emerge in story or poem. For instance, my short story, What’s Left, about a friend’s wife who suffered a brain aneurysm and lost her memory and sense of humour but retained her mathematical skill, took forty years to arrive as a thousand-word story. Over the years, I’d tried to write it as a play, a screenplay, and a novel. 

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Interview: Sharon Frame Gay

Interview: Sharon Frame Gay

December 01, 2017

I don't work with outlines. I write everything in one fell swoop, then go back later and edit. After that, I put the story away for a short while - let it simmer on the back burner and try not to think about it. Then I go back in and read it again with a fresh pair of eyes. I try not to do much editing at first as I don't want to bleach out the emotion I felt when writing the story. Eventually, I feel brave enough to go back in and do some surgery on the piece. 

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Interview: Lynn Love

Interview: Lynn Love

November 28, 2017

I wake up about half past six every day, but the writing doesn't start until my husband and son have breakfasted, packed their bags and their lunches and left the house. Then I have the place to myself. I try to get some exercise in early on, even if it's just a walk in the park or a trip to the shops, just to get my mind sparking. We only have a small house, so I don't have a dedicated study - my work space is at the dining room table, looking out over the garden. 

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Interview: Jodie Noel Vinson

Interview: Jodie Noel Vinson

November 27, 2017

Like many writers, I work full time to support my passion, so it can be difficult to describe a typical writing day. I like to write in the mornings, when my head is clear, and tend to get up early to write before work. When I do have the luxury of a full day of writing, it starts early, with coffee, but has plenty of breaks for exercise and musing—time away from the page can be almost as important to my creative process as coming back to it.

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A Lie In

A Lie In

November 21, 2017

Molly had been lying awake for an hour waiting for the light, or for her husband to wake, whichever came first. She wondered, not for the first time, how he was able to change a lifetime of inescapable routine so easily – she found it almost treacherous. So many years of hard slog, based on a work ethic generations old, were all for what? Pieces of silver?

They’d married in 1940. Davey was twenty and had already been on the coal face for five years. 

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Misconception

Misconception

November 16, 2017

From behind, he looks nothing like Marco.

When he turns, one hand in a salute against the morning sun, the other hand holding a guidebook at arm's length, she sees a resemblance. All the other candidates had either rushed by clutching polished briefcases or were consumed by family constellations at the edges of the piazza. Not one bore enough resemblance to Marco. This one appears to be alone. Hopefully he's from Milano or Bologna. 

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Interview: Jeff Hirsch

Interview: Jeff Hirsch

November 15, 2017

This week, we'll meet author and tutor Jeff Hirsch!

1.Tell us a little about yourself. Maybe something random that not many people know!

Let’s see here. How about we start with the non-random stuff first as a kind of baseline? I’ve been a full-time writer of young adult and middle grade fiction for going on six years now, publishing with Scholastic and Clarion Books. I grew up in Richmond, Virginia and now live in the small but mighty state of Rhode Island. 

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Waiting for Angie

Waiting for Angie

September 05, 2017

I wasn’t long back from school and was lying on my bed, stocking feet up on my Duran Duran poster. I’d grown tired of pretending to be Jayne Torvill, socks slipping over the icy surface, Bolero pounding in my head like a traction engine  My left heel covered Simon Le Bon’s face. It had been over John Taylor’s, but I’d shifted position so John’s glossy pout was free of sock. The door opened hard, denting the lilac woodchip wallpaper.

‘Out!’ said Angie.

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The Lighthouse

The Lighthouse

August 31, 2017

Maine, 1922

There are those who find the song of a foghorn mournful and foreboding. To me, it was a lullaby. I have been a lighthouse keeper all my life. I was born in the keeper's cottage in 1880, next to the tower that clings to a cliff in Maine. As a child, I was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic bursts of light and sound, bringing home the sailors like a wolf calling in her young after a Hunter's Moon.

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