Authors Electric

I had something else lined up for this month, written and ready to go, but some inner compulsion told me to post up this instead, and as I’ve based much of my writing life around inner compulsions, here goes. I’ll begin with a story - something that happened a few weeks ago. I was writing at my desk one day when a fight broke out outside my window [my office overlooks a public passageway].  I hoped it would go away, but it doubled in ferocity so I did what's known in my family as my mum-in-old-bat-mode thing and charged out brandishing my phone, threatening to call the police – only to find myself staring into the lens of a camera. One of my neighbours was making a film. Not in Hollywood or London, but in downtown Shrewsbury. It involved zombies, steampunk and intergalactic Nazis. I swapped a few friendly words with the actors, whose take I’d ruined, and retreated indoors.   A few nights ago, one of that film crew came knocking on my doo...