The world is full of anaesthetising forces. Writing keeps me awake.
A few years ago I worked hard to build imagined spaces in hostile territory, to publish small things here and there, brief interventions before the undergrowth closed in again. Some of these are academic - a piece on Old English riddles in Neophilologus, for example, and another in the Journal of Modern Literature on David Jones’s In Parenthesis.
Others are creative, mostly in speculative genres - for example, Of the Green Spires, the story of an alien plant taking over Oxford, and The Hidden Market, a little flash piece about memory. In How Pleasant the Red Bloom, words fight against each other more explicitly than usual, but I can sense the tendency elsewhere in my work. There’s some poetry out there, too, though I don’t think I ever quite found my voice in this form.
I am most excited about longer form fiction right now, and recently finished writing my debut novel, Amourette. I have several other projects currently in progress.
