Every now and then I’m jolted into action and realise that if I want to call myself a writer, I should do more than do laundry, cook dinner, wash the kitchen surfaces, iron pillowcases and rewax the floors. What follows are excerpts from my brain.
I’m supposed to be editing. Or as I like to call it deleting six months hard work to write a totally different story. Call it chemo-brain or call it the fact I realised just a tiny bit too late I’d written the wrong story, but ‘The Toast of Brighton’ is going down to the wire […]
I’m saying short story, but it’s a poem. It’s political and generally reflects my frustration at the state of the UK. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Mo Fanning – over-sharing cancer bore – talks about the treatment stage of testicular cancer – the chemotherapy and scans stage – and the unexpected steroid boost.
Everyone says that the best comedy comes from the darkest of places. And that gives me hope for ‘The Toast of Brighton’ – shameless plug alert: this is my upcoming novel – as the past few weeks have felt pitch black. And yet, I believe the words, chapters and story match the hopes I always […]
Testicular cancer is not an automatic death sentence. Unless you ignore that lumpy, harder than the other one or slightly-swollen ball, in which case it is.