This morning, Mark has been teaching me how to use positive reinforcement on the people I manage. There are four of them: Ricky, Stella, Imogen and the new guy, Dominic. Mark is the head of the company. "When I have... More...
Wednesday, 11 January, 2012
New voices
Three men in hard hats sit on the vast table, steel toe-capped boots resting on the seats of the chairs in front of them. Their eyes shine out of the grey grime which covers them head to toe. Though they... More...
Wednesday, 7 December, 2011
On a graceful bay on Lake Garda stands a honey-coloured hotel. Against a backdrop of pines, creamy crenulations line its corner towers, and a light breeze from off the water sends the fragrance of sage and lavender drifting across the... More...
Monday, 7 November, 2011
Sunlight floods the studio and reflects off the mirror, casting glass-splintered patterns on the wood floor. I shield my eyes and look at the class. Another group of thirty-something women. Some are chubby, some are lithe. They're always inflexible. Beyond... More...
Wednesday, 5 October, 2011
Jenny stands naked in front of us. We are all holding candles, all in anticipation. Her hair is tied up in a loose bundle, held in place with a chopstick. We clap her encouragingly. We are all naked too -... More...
Monday, 5 September, 2011
The alarm beeps and beeps in the darkness, the single-note buzz persisting around the walls like an angry digital bee. Paul raises his head slightly from the pillow, feeling insulted. He, lying awake with his eyelids lightly closed in the... More...
Thursday, 4 August, 2011
Character studies
It was Christmas Eve and Professor Andersen had a Christmas tree in the living room. He stared at it. `Well, I must say,' he thought. `Yes indeed, I must say.' Then he turned and ambled round the living room, while... More...
Tuesday, 6 December, 2011
Inside the grimy plastic bag was a passport and ten hundred dollar bills. Kate stuffed the bills into her little white-lace pinny and flicked through the passport to remind herself who she was going to be next. She read the... More...
Monday, 7 November, 2011
Andrew Kaufman is a Canadian writer, film director and radio producer. All My Friends are Superheroes, Kaufman's debut novel, became a major word-of-mouth hit, and is now being developed into a feature film. More...
Tuesday, 4 October, 2011
Useful is his name. One of them at least. Everyone has multiple names in this mixed up modern world - Roman names, Greek names, state names, slave names, religious names - it can't always have been like that. It wasn't.... More...
Monday, 5 September, 2011
Audrey Jennings was a sucker. Not the kind of sucker who falls for anything, but the kind who falls for the same sort of thing over and over. She was smart enough, in a bookish sort of way. She had... More...
Thursday, 4 August, 2011
We were sitting on the fifth floor of Will's dorm room, smoking pot, when the conversation turned to death."My sister, Elise, saw her boyfriend get killed in a car wreck," Casey said. She exhaled contemplatively, blowing a stream of smoke... More...
Thursday, 12 January, 2012
Short stories
After the sex, he fell asleep. That wasn't what Linda had expected. Cheated - returned too soon into her own possession - she lay pinned for a while under his flung arm, looking into the corners of the high ceiling... More...
Wednesday, 7 December, 2011
She didn't go the usual way. She walked more calmly and slowly than she normally did on her way home from work. He followed her. She went in and out of shops. She browsed and asked the shop assistants to... More...
Monday, 7 November, 2011
I find her buried by a frangipani tree and I want to smile. These are the flowers she made into buttons as a girl and I think how lucky she is to be surrounded by these flowers, this scent. And... More...
Tuesday, 4 October, 2011
Brighton Beach, 6 June 1955 The air is so big - stretches miles and miles - a sweep of pebbles up along the coast; the air a woompfh and a slap, and the sea growling itself up onto the pebbles.... More...
Monday, 5 September, 2011
1942 The chill of the lino beneath Helen's bare feet seeps up her legs and underneath her nightie. She knows it is late from the feel of the air, still and silent as deep water. Head thumping and in need... More...
Thursday, 4 August, 2011
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