Some writers just appear effortless. Neil Gaiman, when he’s firing on all cylinders, can make you believe he’s plucking some grand, modern fantasy out of mid-air before your eyes. Stephen King seems to have access to a well of stories which feel like they’ve been around forever, just waiting to be told, before he filters them through a riff he’s been building his entire career. The one who always amazes me with how smooth and focused his prose can be, however, is Elmore Leonard. My god, Elmore Leonard could write a good story. His work, when it’s on form, shares something with bottled lightning. It won’t be a few pages past the cover before you find your nerves singing, a spent cork in your hand, and your hair standing on end.
Read MoreI’ve never been a career chaser. I’ve worked in post rooms, telesales, technical departments, shops and kitchens, but none of those jobs have ever been about earning a pension. Nope, I’ve always been there to pay some bills and make my bank account look a little healthier. The carrot the world tied to the end of the stick it chose for me was never a gold watch. Which is why, every so often, I find myself in a room full of people having a meeting where the best I can hope to do is look interested. During those meetings, I always catch myself looking around the rest of my fellow captives, trying to spot anyone else doing the same as me. Sadly, it seems we’re a dying breed.
Read MoreI’ve been writing stories, in one form or another, since I was about six or seven. It’s hard to be sure exactly when I started. It’s all become a bit of a blur thanks to, well, getting old. I know I was definitely small enough that older relatives thought it was adorable. I guess it was at the age where it’s socially acceptable to patronise a child for trying to do something you associate with grown-ups.
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