Living on Stamford Street, Stretford, us kids needed to be tough. Right enough, I had my big brother next to me – Eric – but still, I needed bigger. There was a war going on […]
For this article about writing, I would like to talk (type?) about not writing. A massive part of my writing life, which I now do full time as my job, is not actually writing. I […]
We are proud to present our second edition of Northern Gravy. Once again, we’re bringing three pieces of MG/YA, three pieces of Fiction and three selections from Poetry.
Welcome Aboard! In this episode you’ll learn about how Northern Gravy came to be, the realities of doing an MA in creative writing, the rigours of applying for Arts Council funding and hear an exclusive […]
Jonny, Ralph and Nick desire to read great work, to experience what is truly possible in writing, and to understand a little of where such greatness can come from.
In line with our green agenda, we replaced the TV
with a Punch and Judy show and a fortune teller.
He’s drawn a tiger in crayon. White paper shows through the orange and black stripes. The eyes are slanted and green, malevolent as poison ivy. Broccoli trees surround the tiger, and a sky-blue river meanders from one side of the page to the other.
I’m on the news. The actual news. Not the here’s a story about some kid making loom bands to save a dog shelter, now here’s the weather news but the actual real-life news. And they ask me why. Why it happened.
scared me to start with:
coal-cuts willow-patterned into blue
knuckles hammered and hurt
Mam’s hands are scorched by time, raised blue veins crisscrossed over parched skin. She has a misshapen little finger where Da once brought down the blunt handle of his knife when she reached for the salt.
I yanked the comb through the tangled mass one last time, but my hair still stuck up all over like a used toothbrush. Flicking a few bits of dirt from my trews and tabard, I checked my reflection in the shard. I poked out my tongue.
Their first spring together was…unexpected. He held a fear of women, of being caught in a lie. Don’t you agree? Don’t you love me? Am I enough? Will you stay?
For as long as ever I knew,
I’ve had two mums:
Mum One and Two.