Peter Webb, Willesden Green Writer and author of Ice Bears and Kotick, was shortlisted for his new story “White Snow like Santa Marta”, which will be printed in the Earlyworks Press 2009 anthology. More info on Earlyworks and the competition here.
Congratulations, Peter!
The latest installment of our free audio podcast features short fiction from Lane Ashfeldt. You can either right-click here to download a copy of the author reading her piece, “The Bells at Christchurch”, or you can subscribe using and get automatic updates with your RSS reader or through iTunes.
Three writers from the Green Press will be appearing at the Poetry Cafe in the next few weeks.
On August 20, the Literature Lounge presents Pictures To Lean Into, an evening of poetry, music and head-to-head fiction featuring Jarred McGinnis and Samuel Taradash. £4 at the door, and the event kicks off at 8:00 PM.
Then on September 22, Lee Webber will be amongst the talents reading at Poetry Unplugged. Doors open at 7:00.
Both events will be at the Poetry Cafe, 22 Betterton Street, London WC2H 9BX (map)
We’re back from our summer vacation, and appease your appetites we’ve got Jarred McGinnis reading his short story, Today I Eat The World for this week’s podcast. Jarred’s work has been featured in Gold Dust, Underground Voices, Big Bridges and Liars’ League. You can follow him online at Wicked To Mock The Afflicted.
And whether you prefer an open source feed reader, a slick new portable audio player, or just to listen through your computer speakers, don’t forget to subscribe to our free weekly podcast which is available in fresh RSS or citrus iTunes flavours.
My short story “This Collection Transmits” has just been published by Bartleby Snopes. You can read it here. If you like it, please send the editor your vote.
It’s been a while since we spoke, and things have probably been just as busy for you in the last couple of weeks. But now that spring has truly sprung (in the northern hemisphere, at least), you’ll soon see and hear all sorts of things sprouting. And if you’re not inclined to look for the green shoots of economic recovery, may we suggest some blooming fiction of a slightly darker note?
The bells draped above the old wooden door ringled-tingled beautifully, as they always did whenever someone came in. The old man pushed one last white and pink carnation in to the vase, wiped his ropy fingers on his apron and bent himself past the boxes to see who had come in. Normally, he would have gone up to the customer and showered him with smiles and avuncular advice; how to apologise to a spouse with just the right shade of blood-red roses or how to charm a friend’s wife on her birthday without flirting using yellow roses. The customer who had just walked in seemed, however, to have no such needs; he was quietly bending over a spray of azaleas and starting to examine each bloom carefully.
Albert returned to his work, lovingly arranging each stem; he almost forgot about the young man, when he heard a gentle cough. Another wipe of the hands and he shuffled behind the cracked old wooden counter. He stared into the eyes of the young man. They were speckled green and blue, and yet they sucked in the light around him. They narrowed slightly as he tendered a ten pound note. Albert glanced down at the counter. Three flowers. Kerching, change and he was gone. Read the rest of this entry →
