De-blog

Image by Darkmoon Art There is a theory (I can’t recall whose) that our decisions are already made at the beginning of a deliberation process, and the weighing up of pros and cons is merely a form of delaying while we find the courage to take the leap. After three months of prevaricating, I’ve taken that leap. Well, more of a step-over, as what I’ve done is congruent with who I am and my values, but I’m wary of the kickback it might have and how others could feel under duress to follow my example or plead their case, neither of which are necessary. To be clear: this decision has no bearing on anyone else, nor is it a judgement of how other creative people do their thing. Cutting to the chase (finally)… I’ve re-priced all of my ebooks to 99c/99p (depending on where you are in the world). That includes all novels, novellas and short stories written by Debbie McGowan or J.S. Morley. The only exceptions are my box sets/multiple-volume books, which are 2.99 USD, and my free ebooks, which wi...

Nige - my other half – is a singer/songwriter. He'd likely tell you otherwise, but I heard his songs (and learnt all the lyrics – it's an affliction) before I even set eyes on him, so whatever else he claims he is, he is also a singer/songwriter. I mention this to qualify something he said to me not long after we became friends: there are only so many ways to combine the musical elements; inevitably, people will write melodies that have been written before. Or something like that. I'm paraphrasing to fit the theme of this blog post, which will be short. I'm trying to get back into the habit of posting more often than once a year. That point about songs came back to me a couple of weeks ago when I was watching artists on YouTube demonstrate how to draw faces, and one of them said something about all art being derivative, stolen from others. The key is to learn to 'steal like an artist'. So I don't sidetrack, I'll just add a link to a TED talk by Austin K...

Illustration by John Hain Every time I open a text message or email at the moment, it's from one of my utilities providers telling me my bill's about to increase. Meanwhile, my union has paused strike action hoping it will contribute to a more positive negotiation climate. Seriously, the common people are on their knees and STILL we're sucking up to government and big capital, not that those two are separate entities. All is not well in the Western world. Yes, for all of the above, I realise I'm very fortunate. I enjoy a comfortable standard of living but nothing more than that, and my private rants about the unfairness of a system that piles guilt onto us – the barely comfortable – while the bunch of w*nkers at the top don't give a single sh*t on a platinum toilet…are much longer and swearier. But I didn't come here to rant; it escaped and expanded while I was considering the intended topic of this post, which is a couple of recent changes that have impacted ...

I hear the front door close, the clang of your keys as you drop them into your pocket. My peaceful afternoon is about to end, just as soon as you’ve taken off your shoes, checked the mail, poked your head into the sitting room, slammed the kettle with your dismay and laid your disbelief upon the naked kitchen table. I can almost hear you tally your point score as you climb the stairs to my studio—THE attic, as you call it—and I should brace for your arrival, but I don’t give a damn. That creaky top stair denies you your stealthy approach, yet I act as if you will still catch me unawares. The square of blue above my head holds my attention, patchy and ragged as if the skylight were a giant phone and the sky a wash painted by a clumsy finger. “I bet you do that all day.” I fake a start, as usual, and spin my chair so my back is fully to you. If you could manage as much as a civil ‘hi’, I’d respond in kind. But the kindness has all gone. We are embittered, estranged echoes of our past....