The TV Bookclub plays in the background, Facebook beeps a cringing rhythm, my sneezes are constant and my body craves another cuppa. All the while, the page sits there with a blank face.
I’d imagine if the page could talk it would speak of the shame in nakedness. It’d tell me off for my laziness. It’d plead for me to dress it with letters.
…and with every tap of the keys and scribble of the pen and sweep of the highlighter and blot of a teary sweat and scrunch of frustration, the page breathes a new life; a new music; a new story.
…and as the writers’ block becomes unblocked by the fibres of my creative surroundings- concepts, ideas and characters unfold.
Eat My Shorts is a collection of poetry, monologues scene by scenes, extracts, tweets and other inspired by absurdly beautiful characters I’ve encountered in London. From the Sweet Dustbin Man to the Sour Stockbroker. From the Bitter Bus Driver to the Spicy Late Night Wonderer. From the Bland Art Gallery Manager, to the Salty-Teared Hardknock . From the Fruity OAP to the Sickly Singles Bar Layabout.
These characters at one point all collide within a weekend in London and have more in common than they’ll ever know. But you’ll know.
They all feature in this episodic, multigenerational, multicultural, multifunctional saga. See how one characters decision effects another’s. Plunge into this dichotomy of true grit; one character obtaining the attributes in so many of the same. You may find you in here!
Join me as I develop their stories. Draft and redraft and redraft, re-title, reorganise, give birth to, kill and possibly rebirth their lives.
Let’s begin with Tilly’s Tale.