What follows is the original, unedited review.
Friday, 27 May 2011
A young man looked up at the wall clock just in time to see the minute hand lurch, treacle slow, from 59 to 12. The hour hand imperceptibly followed suit. Midnight.
In the house opposite the lights are never on. Three windows are visible from the front and each
is dirty or defaced in a different way. The smallest window, first floor above the blue front door,
is thick with dust on the inside, grime from street pollution on the outside. On the lower half of
this window there is a small clean circle, like that a child might make if he or she was curious
about what the weather was like, or to see if those footsteps on the path belonged to the postman, or a curious neighbor come to peer through the letterbox again.
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
I'm not going to pretend I'm pleased with this one. Knocked out in a couple of hours this is yet another example of a missed opportunity; something could have been produced that I was actually happy with had I spent more than one evening on it. I felt it was rushed and the concept, contrived.
However, this latest assignment for my creative writing course scored me a respectable 77/100 (62/80 for main piece, 15/20 for the reflective commentary). A score that underlines how much more I could have accomplished if I had taken more time.
The brief was to write a short story for submission to a magazine. The magazine had to be researched to make sure the piece was suitable and within their submission specifications. Anyway... I decided to go Sci-Fi and pick the magazine Interzone.
My story is called Whiteout.
And here it is... followed by my own commentary and then my tutors comments at the end. Quite wordy, attention and commitment levels may vary. Congratulations in advance if you make it to the end, and thanks too.
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Acrylic pantings wot I dun years ago. Recorded here for posterity now that I have closed my DeviantArt account.
A naked lady (it's Courtney Love btw)
I'm thinking of having a T-shirt printed. It will be my special Sunday morning T-shirt. I shall puff out my chest and wear it with pride. It will be black (for what other T-shirt colours are there?!) with white writing on and it will spaketh thusly.
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOUR CRAP MIGHT SELL FOR ON EBAY!
My Dad is a legend. Many years ago while working as an aeroplane mechanic he, at my request, took one of my joysticks to work, placed it in the engine of a bloody big 'plane and took a picture of it. I don't remember if he complained or had to be convinced or told me to grow up but he did it. All so I could get my name into the greatest magazine of my youth, Zero. Here is the result.
I make a vow now that if my son ever asks me to do something ridiculous in the name of gaming I will say yes without hesitation. Cheers dad.