I asked friends to give me a word each so I could build a story from three. It just seemed like a good idea because wine and I’m not saying these wee tales are any good but they made me feel good writing them and that was lovely, thank you. Written in six hours or so, so go easy.
SLUG SUGAR SWEAT
They called it a slug, you know, that round that goes in the gun or whatever. I called it a bullet and they all sniggered, sniggered at how I held it, how the sweat poured down my face as I aimed the cursed thing.
One thing’s for damned sure – ain’t no one gonna be callin’ me sugar no more.
This is a film about David Rickerby, formerly detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure for the crime of armed robbery, formerly living on the streets of Denmark, currently publishing works of fiction, currently with a solid plan for the future.
What began as All But One of Those Lights in the Sky are Dead and very nearly became Fucking Danish Girls sorted itself out once I’d started pretending to be an unhinged lesbian living in the future. I hope it’s as enjoyable to read as it was to write.
Paperback out now; eBook too (with dodgy looking preview—cheers, Amazon.)
It’s Dave’s birthday tomorrow and there’s a cunningly subtle clue in the title of his latest work as to his age. Since editing poetry is like fashioning a ladder out of live cockroaches, this is pure Dave, his own unadulterated pure self. I just made it look pretty.