October 21, 2017

They say it was awful cold for the bairn,
That she had none to sing her to slumber,
That she scurried behind rocks, cairn to cairn,
And, if she’d tire, she’d slow and lumber.

They say she lived in eternal shiver,
That December had her crawled underground,
That, one dusk...

October 7, 2017

Last weekend, I flew over east for the Newcastle Young Writers Festival, a four-day event for writers, editors, and others in writing-related industries under 35. At the festival, I met young creatives, attended panels and readings, got to the third round of a spelling...

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