Skip to main content

The Book of Write-On: Day Nine

 After an unbelievably enjoyable weekend of reservoir swimming, of parkrunning, of central Edinburgh drink-fuelled tourism, of dog, walking, fish and chip-eating, film-watching and gin drinking, we found ourselves waking up to a new week. Me and my cousin Paul joined my brother James in his morning commute to work. We had a coffee near Edinburgh College of Art until James left for work. Paul left at around ten to board a bus for the airport where he was Stansted-bound. 


I spent the morning reading and writing in the College of Art’s cafe, observing the artistic youth of the day. I read an extraordinary short story by A.L. Kennedy called AM SONTAG. It’s quite unlike anything I’ve read before. It really gets into the head of a mentally-ill/psychiatric patient in an open ward. Or at least that’s what I think it’s about. After a quick lunch with James, I caught a bus to the hotel. Having checked in, I had an incredible run around Murrayfield Stadium and down the Water of Leith, around Lauriston Park and its walled garden and back again. An easy five-miler. 


And now it’s 8:21 pm and I’m at a pub called the Hampton, writing shiz out of shiz, having written the bones of the story between 2:40 and 4:23 on Saturday morning. When The Muse wakes, you wake with it. I’m hopeful for the week ahead. Inspiration for stories will come just as long as I read and write as much as possible.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mr Pebble Pockets

I’ve called him Mr Pebble Pockets because if I don’t make a joke out of it I’ll cry.  It was about 10:30pm, I’d just got back to the boat from a late shift and I was waiting for my Deliveroo.  He was standing a little further down the towpath and staring at the water.  The night was clear and crisp and there was enough moonlight to see the shape of him: he was tall, late twenties and had a powerful sporty look to him.  He wasn’t crying, but he was shaking and he stood crooked.    Well, it doesn’t take a genius, does it?  I only came out to wait for a bloody curry.  Mother Florence bloody Teresa Nightingale springing into action, hungry and as tired as fuck and now having to stop this guy from jumping into the canal with an anchor for a coat.     I know now that the best thing to do was offer him a cigarette.   I don’t know why I didn’t.   I had the packet and the lighter in my hand. ‘Excuse me,’ I said.   ‘Ar...
Post a Comment
Read more

An Expert Analysis of Michael Fassbender's Running Style From the Film 'Shame'

Tom Wiggins: What are your first impressions of Michael Fassbender/Brandon's running style? Paul Whittaker: He's running nice, smooth and relaxed. He seems like he has a good amount of fitness and he is running well within himself in terms of pace.   TW: What improvements could he make to his running style? PW: The main improvement I'd make is his foot plant.  He lands heel first and this causes a 'breaking' effect when travelling forwards.  If he landed on his mid-foot/forefoot, this would be a much better for impact stress and propulsion going forward into the next running stride. TW: Regarding his speed, how many minutes per mile is he running? PW : I would say he is running approx 7-7.30 minutes per mile. TW:   What do you make of his stride lengths?  Is he overstriding/understriding? PW:  The actor is definitely overstriding in this clip.  It would help if his feet landed underneath and below his centre of gravit...
Post a Comment
Read more

Samsa & Shabeezi

Samsa was now a human.  He’d recently become a human after his architect decided to put a human heart in him and give him feelings.  The five litres of blood that now pumped around his body warmed him up.  It made for incredible nose bleeds, spasms, cramps and bruising, to name o nly a small fraction of the symptoms, but his architect assured him that it would all be worth it and that he'd feel normal very soon.  He didn't know what normal was, but he knew it wasn't puking and shitting and bleeding all over the place for the first two months and then just feeling terrible for several weeks after that.  Human life is agony, he thought, but he trusted the process.  One day, a little over twelve weeks after the operation, he woke up from his first good night's sleep and was able to open the curtains without the light splitting his skull in two.  Samsa had known Shabeezi before she became a human woman.   All they had done was fight.   Samsa es...
Post a Comment
Read more