All I’ll Ever See

From Sean Creamer’s ‘Crystal Castles’ collection, via hongwrong.com.

The world is very small.

It’s the bed you woke up in and the number of contacts in your phone.
The friends you meet for lunch and the TV shows you talk about.
It’s your mother reminding you of birthdays and the line at the bus stop.
Your most visited websites and the paper cut you didn’t realise you had.
It’s the ads you ignore as you cook and the song stuck in your head.
The characters you want to be and the ones you know you are.
It’s the faces of those who reject you and the words of the ones that don’t.
The light that flickers and the floorboards that creak under your feet.

It’s intricate and fragile.
Singular and certain.
It’s life.
And it’s the truth.

But it’s not the only one.

Elemental Might

Oh my god the Daily Post challenge Missing Sequels today has given me the perfect opportunity to ramble on about my favourite show ever! What follows is complete word vomit apologies in advance.

Word is they are planning another series/remake, but no details have been released yet.

So imagine a detective agency right. But instead of crimes they investigate people and places effected by ‘time’ doing things it shouldn’t. And instead of humans the main characters are the personification of different elements (with powers kind of based on whatever element they are). HOW COOL DOES THAT SOUND? PRETTY DAMN COOL. Well good news everyone, it totally exists!

My Literary Confessions

• My favourite first lines are not ones that you’ll find on top ten lists:

“When a day that you happen to know is a Wednesday starts off by sounding like a Sunday, there is something seriously wrong somewhere.” – John Wyndham, The Day of the Triffids

“It was a dazzling four-sun afternoon.” – Issac Asmiov and Robert Silverberg, Nightfall

“In defense of Althalus, it should be noted that he was in very tight financial circumstances and more than a little tipsy when he agreed to undertake the theft of the Book.” – David and Leigh Eddings, The Redemption of Althalus

Hidden Below

 

In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge over on the Daily Post, here’s a piece by photographer Andrew Brooks.

It’s a part of his ‘Hidden Cities’ collection, and was taken during an exploration of Manchester.

I have a lot of his worked saved and hidden away, because it has often served to inspire and save me from more than one bought of writer’s block.

The reason I love this particular picture so much is because I found it when trying to research locations for Underground, back when it was still a short that took place almost entirely inside a series of abandoned tunnels.

Whenever I’m having trouble writing that story, taking a look at Brooks’ work often helps me get back on track.

Be sure to click-through for the full-sized image and check out the rest of his site too!

Swamp Night Delight

Swamp Fever by Andree Wallin

There was a shotgun in my left hand. I remember the weight of it keenly. I knew how to use it.

Which was odd, since I’ve never laid eyes on a gun before.

It may have been dusk, though the trees curling above made it impossible to really tell. There was a green tinged mist in the air, a smell of moss and sodden dirt on the breeze. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked around and seen something so unfamiliar.

What Came Before

The Ideal Bookshelf, based on an original painting by Jane Mount.

For the last month or so I’ve been helping out a friend with a sci-fi story he’s been working on, but never really done much with. I’d heard him talk about it multiple times, saying he had all his characters and a complete outline. But although he was more than happy to talk about it – he seemed a little hesitant whenever I prodded him to actually write it.

Taking Aim

SILLY ROBOT GIRL SEEKS LIKEMINDED PEEPS for sporadic adventures into literary lunacy.

Respondents must be curious, bookish types seeking intermittent journeys into fantastical lands of fiction.

Preferred applicants should be courageous, open minded and possess a basic ability to suspend their disbelief (especially when the author insists the tin robots on her desk occasionally help out with the narrative).

Contact using the comments section below.

:)

Walk With Me My Friend, by abrider3.

Empty in the Middle

Notebooks, photographed by Gniii.

There are twenty-seven notebooks on a bookshelf above my bed. They’re all about the same size (A5) and the oldest was given to me as a Christmas present in 1996; it’s spiral bound with a clear plastic cover and it’s the only one that has something written on every page.

I haven’t filled another since and I’m not entirely sure why.