I am home from work and losing my mind. I am going to post one piece of writing every day until I’m back at work.
It will be a good distraction. The more horror I can pour onto my page, the less remains in my head. I had a nightmare about sneaking into my office to do paperwork last night and that can’t be my life.
Speak to you soon.
Another cake voted for by Facebook.
Title courtesy of my extremely proud boyfriend.
This was a Christmas creation, but now seems like a good time to post it.
This is chocolate gingerbread, covered in royal icing. 42 swords adorn the base, and it was incredibly sturdy once iced.
I’d like to tell you about the worst cake I’ve ever baked. Probably best not to look if you’re uncomfortable with blood, teeth and sweet, delicious Frankensteined fondant flesh.
I run a facebook group where I post cakes with threatening auras. These can be either deliberate or unintentional. To celebrate hitting a milestone for members, I proposed that I would bake a cake, with the features to decided by vote. The top results were the following:
Honestly the minion part was the worst for me. Here’s my process for creating a cake so terrible that the question “cake or death?” yields 50/50 results.
I recently received my copies of Lost Souls, a collection of short stories published by Flame Tree Publishing.
This book features my first published story, Shut-In. I was absolutely shocked when I received the email to tell me it was accepted. Opening that email and almost crying as my boyfriend held the bag I shoved into his arms is a fantastic memory for me. Maybe not for him. He thought someone had died.
It’s a beautiful book, although the shine makes it difficult to photograph
It is a beautiful book, and I am in incredible company
I think I’ve rested long enough. I plan to post at least weekly from now on
I’m glad that I managed to do daily posts for the month, and I’m also glad that it’s over.
It’s been hard putting up something new every day. I wrote more in this month than I have in the last year.
I’m hoping to expand some of the short stories, and I plan on coming up with a more tenable schedule in future.
If anyone asks if I’m doing nanowrimo, I may cry.
Every day I follow the same routine.
It’s not a compulsion, I just see no need to change it.
I wake at 7:30, am showered and dressed by 8, and I’ve eaten and left by 8:15am. I arrive at my job at 8:50 and work from 9 to 1, when I break for lunch. I eat in the break room and make small talk with my co-workers. At 2 I resume my work, taking a 3:30 tea break. I leave the office at 5:10 and am home at 6. My work isn’t rewarding, but it is steady and my co-workers are nice enough. At the end of each day I return to my home where I live alone, with no one to interrupt my preferred way of doing things.
This routine was followed precisely for years before I noticed that I was even doing it. One morning as I was leaving the house, I was struck by a feeling of absolute panic. It was as though my stomach was at once hollow and filled with immense weight.
It was 8:16 and I have never run faster in my life than I did to catch that bus.
I have spent months in this ship, drilling towards the centre of the earth in absolute isolation. I tried to ignore the screaming and the banging on the sides at first, but now I can hear my father whispering how he really died.
I had heard the saying that if you love sausage you should never find out what it’s made of, and that is very true for the new butcher shop in town. However what disturbs me more than finding out what the ingredient is, is just how happy I am to keep eating there, particularly with an employee discount.
As I stand frozen, I can hear growling and the pacing of monstrous claws on the other side of my front door. I was so sure I’d remembered to lock it this morning, after I’d kissed my children goodbye and promised them I’d be back once I’d gathered enough food.
This painting took about four hours to finish. It’s been a long time since I painted, and while I’m happy with certain elements, I definitely need more practice
Sketched Text 