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 […]
On Not Writing by Lisette Auton
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 […]
An introduction to the second edition
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.
Podcast #1
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 […]
An introduction to the first edition
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.
Poems by Oz Hardwick
In line with our green agenda, we replaced the TV
with a Punch and Judy show and a fortune teller.
Stripes by Julie Hayman
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.
Hungry by Claire Marie Perry
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.
Poems by Pippa Little
scared me to start with:
coal-cuts willow-patterned into blue
knuckles hammered and hurt
Cursed With Bonny Lasses by Kathy Hoyle
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.
A Little Act of Kindness by Rachel Wade
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.
Poems by Katy Mahon
…the more you say it, the stranger
it feels on the face;
The Real Boy by Jess Moody
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?
Poems by Piu DasGupta
For as long as ever I knew,
I’ve had two mums:
Mum One and Two.
The Silence by Chris Jones
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the process of ‘getting over’ creative projects when they come to an end. I’ve been preoccupied by endings because my latest collection, Little Piece of Harm, has just […]