Blog About Sam's Thoughts And Riting Diary

I am accepting commissions Yesterday I caught two trains with my bare hands. Both were late but enough about the failings of the railways. On the outward journey I had an idea while reading Neil Gaiman's excellent  Fragile Things . The only writing surfaces I had to hand were my skin and an initially-important envelope. I opted for the envelope and began scribbling. It didn't result in much. On the way home, however, I had another idea: a "fag packet love story". The objective: write a gritty love story that would fit onto a packet of cigarettes and leave a bad taste in your mouth. What I wrote on the train was seven lines of prose, six exclusively dialogue and one line of description. I got home and excitedly read it to my wife, Sophie, who responded politely (her way of saying it's crap - I'm not sure if she's aware of that). I agreed but there was something in those 63 words that kept nagging at me and, after sleeping on it and watchi

Artist's impression of Alex Bigbury's famous spectacles Jerry Naylist is a writer and columnist for the best-selling magazine Time 2 Rite. He sat down with none other than 1968 Man Booker Prize winner Alexander Bigbury. Jerry has kindly agreed to allow me to publish the transcript of his interview: Jerry: Garth, first of all thank you for taking time out to have a quick chat today. Garth:  Pleasure. J: Tell me about your childhood, how much of ‘ I Fucking Hate You, Dad ’  was drawn from personal experience? G: None, actually. I had a happy childhood, we lived in a pink house with pink-coloured furniture and wallpaper. Even my father's belt was pink. There was a lot of pink, looking back. But no I don ’t feel that my personal experience was put into the book at all. J: Who in the literary world has influenced you? G: Without doubt myself; no book has quite inspired me as much as my own. There’s something about picking up one of my first novels an

To preface this blog post I'd like you to read 'Farage' as Fa-rij  or a rhyme of the place you park your car - garage. Not only does it sound foreign but it's also full of crap nobody wants or needs. Nigel Farage is bloody everywhere. It's as if I'm living in a world where Where's Wally? 's arch-nemesis There's Wally!  has created an infinite number of everyday life situations, but substituted the shy, stripey-jumper-wearing lad for a foghorn in sheepskin (there's a "wolf in sheep's clothing" pun in there somewhere but this blog is a low thrill, no-budget operation so make your own). I was listening to Radio 4 yesterday, because I like to pretend I'm cultured, and shortly after The World at One  they announced the expert in failure (eighth time lucky, Nige) would be on next. Why? The usual response is because he's an MEP and an expert (says who, Lady Farage?) on the EU. Why always Nigel? There are SEVENTY-THREE U

There aren't many things in the world of books on which every writer agrees. Avoid clichés like the plague, Show don't tell, and the importance of the notebook are three. The first and second are self-evident, the third not so. The Notebook's importance really can't be stressed enough - what Ryan Gosling goes through and overcomes is nothing short of extraordinary. A  malaphor  is the blending of idioms or clichés. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it  is surely the underwhelming champion. The best I could come up with were  Don't count your cows 'til they've come home hatched  and  That takes the pisscuit . Perhaps you could include your favourite(s) in your next fan mail letter. I've been assured the current batch are in the post. More malaphors: You can't teach an old leopard new spots Until the cows freeze over That's right up my cup of tea I'm so tired - I could sleep a horse I wouldn't trust him with a barg

The image I created to go with this article only exists because the equivalent stock image had words written all over it. I am a big fan of outsourcing all work and responsibility where possible. Not only does it give others a sense of purpose and encourage hard work but it also gives me the opportunity to nap. I'm not yet a qualified life coach but as soon as I  get the money to pay for the certificate  am I intend to preach the importance of naps. The long-term plan is to start a cult and encourage rich people to join until I have enough money to kick the world, as shown above, or build a to-scale leg and hurl it at the planet from Space. Doubtless logistics will decide which. These incoherent ramblings lead me nicely onto a piece of micro fiction I wrote back in March: In the beginning The world ends. Colin grumbles, turns it off and back on. He kicks it and a whirring sound comes from Africa. The toe of his shoe is now soaked in seawater. He takes off his shoe and

Being 26 makes me a fully-qualified adult. Unfortunately the transition to adulthood is a lot like evolving Pokémon in that once you evolve you can't devolve. Unlike evolving your Pokémon, adulthood is not optional and is forced upon you by miserable adults that made the fatal mistake of leaving their den. Adulthood isn't all bad though. There's marriage which is essentially always having a Player Two to help you do life. As an added bonus, yours and their parents aren't in charge of when they go home and, if you want, they can sleep over all the time. You don't even need to ask anybody's permission or anything. Like many parts of life adulthood contains grey areas. The greyest of all grey areas is food. Deciding what to eat and when is actually a lot harder than you'd think. As a child, the idea of going into a shop and buying whatever you wanted was the stuff of dreams. As an adult it's a nightmare. There are so many things you should an