On remembering that hands consist of more than just fingertips
I’m doing my little bit to reclaim the concept of manual labour for myself and for creative people in a very literal (and literary) fashion.
I’m doing my little bit to reclaim the concept of manual labour for myself and for creative people in a very literal (and literary) fashion.
Oh, how I loathe that word — relevant! — and the noun that accompanies it — relevance! I encounter them both a lot in the cultural sector, and they give me the ick.
What better way of challenging these unhelpful feelings than by taking my clothes off in front a room full of strangers?
I’ve been saying for years, usually to drama students in training, that audiences are always locked in a race with whatever they encounter.
Maybe there’s an interesting distinction to make between something that’s finished for now and something that’s finished for good.
You’re not accountable to them. Only to yourself. So, really, you might just as well uphold your own truth in the first place — in writing, and in all other things.
While I’ve never, ever gone in for writing every day myself, it is something I have encouraged some other people to do, under certain circumstances.
In the space of thirty-six words, they have consolidated everything I'm going to keep reminding myself to do in 2025.
In recent weeks, I've been prioritising actual writing (of new creative work) over what we might uncharitably call pretend writing (such as this blog).
I took part in a workshop led by Liam Brown, exploring AI’s capacity to write good ghost stories — and by extension, our own. Who would do better — us, or it?