I’m a writer, that’s professional as in getting paid. Mostly. I quite like the expression ‘hack’ except when it comes to the novel I’ve just finished. This is, of course, a work of art. It’s also the first one ever submitted since my career has been resolutely non-fiction. I’m a city-boy consigned, unjustly, to the country and desperate to return to civilization. Of late I’ve sensed the country feels much the same. Oh, currently single but as always hopeful. No, not desperate, hopeful. Is there any other way to live?
rachel on See Sherborne And Die lexie on So long, Dave chris on So long, Dave chris on Those falling leaves. . . chris on BADGERS ARE EVIL AND FOXES EAT…