When did magic die for you? I always believed in magic. I mean, really believed in it. Aged 9 I thought if I wished hard enough my cat would talk to me. That he was only hiding his secret self behind his impassive cat face because he could not trust a human. Could never trust a human, not even …
People often ask me, “Hey! How do you get all your creative work?” and “Why are you always in demand for copywriting?” and even, “Can you get me a job?” The answers are simple, if not overly useful. Ideally, you have to be very good at copywriting. Then, you should be really, really nice work …
There’s something very sad happening in the creative industry. I’ve hesitated to talk about, because I hate to sound bitter. But here goes. It’s about the hiring strategy of ad agencies. And before you assume this is all about me, it isn’t. I am not looking for employment. (Unless it’s really, really good. In which …
I am writing poetic pieces on the fleeting joys of family life. Whilst missing out on my own family. And being a moaning haggard harridan when I do see them. I am prostituting my craft and soul for people to red line it, scar it. Chop it. Hurt it. Ah, poor me! I am but …
I am not keen on the UK government’s decision to go ahead with a hugely expensive, contaminating nuclear power station when clean, low-cost, renewable energy seems so much more foward-thinking. By the time it’s built Hinkley Point’s technology will be almost redundant. So I wrote this — with apologies to Messrs Morrissey and Marr.
This ad has made me a bit angry today. Not just the fact that it shows the arrogance of a company (person?) who doesn’t care enough about the written word to check spellings. But because somewhere, some place, some poor uncertain, shy writer may actually PAY THIS PERSON TO REVIEW THEIR WORK. And that is very sad. …
Been sharing some lovely unintentional Ivor Cutler poems. These make me smile. “Slippers For Feet” “Five Cakes. Eight Cakes. Served With A Jug of Cream.” If you have never heard any Ivor Cutler poetry, and you love words and absurdity, you might like to discover more. Life in A Scottish Living Room Squeeze Bees Hello! How are …
I suppose I ought to write something. Just so it looks like I am still around. So. Here it is. This. Also. This. When I’m feeling suitably writerly miserable, when all avenues to creativity seem blocked, when hard-fought written words are thrown away like litter, the cheery rhetorical question of this ad makes me want …
I follow the thought-provoking blog A Narcissist Writes Letters, To Himself so it was wonderfully exciting last week to find a yellow padded package (with an exotic San Francisco return address) stuffed into my humble post box here in the UK. The Narcissist (E.I. Wong Himself) had kindly sent me a copy of his book*. I sat down at my quintessentially English breakfast …
I wanted to be a poet once upon a time. Ha ha. But please feel free to Open door Then a storyteller. Well, I ended up with a blog. Then I wanted to work in advertising. And I did. I was (and am) a creative copywriter. But along the way I learnt how to suffer when my creation was pinned to a …
the crone 