Authors Electric

  Recently I rediscovered a long- lost love. No it wasn’t via Social Media, but it was unexpected and heart warming nonetheless. Life changing? Not exactly -   but it has definitely enriched my life in ways I am very grateful for... I recently rediscovered our small, one room, local book Library, with it’s bookshelf lined walls and it’s part-time hours. It was my grandson’s fault. Well as he is only 15 months old, I can’t really place the blame on him. But his mother was the catalyst. She wanted her son to find some new books to look at. It was sparked by her happy memories of visiting the library herself. Of finding an Aladdin’s cave of books, and sitting and enjoying the treasure there, and then gathering more books to take home. I must have started taking her and her brother when they were quite small, as we progressed from the brightly coloured picture books to ones that were more words than pictures. I remembered the time fondly too -  and wondered why, and when, we ...

My exhibition at Newcastle Central Library, Part the First.  Not another double entendre from me, you cry! To which I reply, I insist on getting it out as often as possible with as many different people as possible. Yes, getting our work out there, it's the perennial question to which there are many answers, all of them sadly requiring time away from writing, watching NCIS and messing about online. I’ve just returned from overseeing the installation of one such, ‘Will Power’, a solo exhibition opening today, which I was offered by the central library in my nearest city, of my poems inspired by Shakespeare. Exhibition Part Two: My 'Ophelia's Sista' Hamlet rap, some of my play posters, and Will S. I’m better known for death, sex and pathology poetry lately but occasionally I’ve bashed out a sonnet, sometimes based on one of Will’s but on a modern subject. As I’ve found with my science-poetry art installations, from very untechie (beachballs, sheep, swimming pool...

 Got your attention?   Spoiler alert. This is not really a post about detective fiction. It’s about having to be a detective in order to read fiction. An alternative (long) title might be: In this democratised world of fiction you can read any book you like as long as it’s not ‘Safety Last.’ It will not have escaped the notice of regular readers of this blog that I have been engaged in a collaborative venture with the writer known as Samuel Rutherford Crockett (1859-1914).  Because I have a bit of the detective in me naturally – ie, I’m keen on researching as deeply into something as I can – I  discovered that one of his daughters was also a published writer. (Julia Jones/Allingham Family bells ringing anyone?) Ruth Mary Rutherford Crockett (1888 -1957) wrote under the name Miss Rutherford Crockett, or simply Rutherford Crockett. This in itself provides search engines with something of an issue.  However, I managed to find that she was publish...

I’ve just got back from a school visit. It was just an hour with Years 5 and 6 of a local primary school. In about three hour’s time, I’m off to our Central Library to run a writing workshop for children. It’s all part of Literally - Coventry Book Festival which started yesterday (Monday as I write this) and runs till the weekend. It’s a busy week and I love it. I’m hoping some of this morning’s youngsters will get along to the workshop later. There were some really keen readers and writers in the group. But I’m also hoping that the little boy who put his hand up to ask a question about characters will come along. His teacher told me afterwards that he never asks questions, he’s never interested in books or writing – and they were gobsmacked to see he’d put up his hand to ask such a question. “ And did you see his face when you were reading?” One of the other teachers remarked. “His eyes were almost popping out of his head!” Another teacher was very excited about one ...