Encouraging words


Read a few of these if you ever have doubts, not just about writing, but about ANYTHING you are doing which can, or has to, be judged using someone’s personal opinion. Here are some of my favourites:

“This is not a book that should be tossed lightly aside. It should be hurled with great force.” Dorothy Parker

“Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae.” Kurt Vonnegut

I’ve been reading reviews of my stories for twenty-five years, and can’t remember a single useful point in any of them, or the slightest good advice. The only reviewer who ever made an impression on me was Skabichevsky, who prophesied that I would die drunk in the bottom of a ditch.” Anton Chekhov

I used to save all my rejection slips because I told myself, one day I’m going to autograph these and auction them. And then I lost the box.” James Lee Burke


And I probably should say “Sentience” (by me) has appeared in Poetic Diversity:





A story takes flight

Quite often, (especially when all the envelopes and stamps have been mysteriously eaten) a writer’s stories may end up hibernating in a special bottom drawer somewhere. (In her or his own house, obviously). This is essential to their well-being. Otherwise, loose stories will fly up and head south for the winter, or follow the writer from home to work to stationary shop, attacking their creator’s head in droves.

Unable to take the padlock off my drawer due to fear of impending attacks, I composed a little something that takes the Mickey, in a fond way, of Tolkien’s bad guy in a science-fictional way.

Was it going to attack me? No way, not this time. This time its doom was sealed, not mine. Sealed in a big envelope marked Doom.

Joking aside, here is the story.

“The Day That Went Hobnaciously,” by Hannah Adcock


The Supply Teacher

You try to keep your head up
But it won’t stand.
So then I prop your chin up
In the palm of my hand.
Your eyelids begin to droop
So I hold them open – Oop
Your head’s lolling yet again
And my brain loops the loop.

A voice calls a name.
It’s probably yours –
Your teacher says it’s “A shame.
Please just listen.” Of course.

Now I’m trying to sit up
And you begin to slouch.
Teacher huddles in the corner
In a desperate sort of crouch.

She continues to speak:
“How on earth do I keep
My sanity intact?”

But our ears start to leak.
It can’t matter – we’re asleep
And that’s a fact.

Big Cat Issues

There once was a jeopardised leopard,
Who could not change his spots.
He dined on sheep and shepherd –
Spat blue forget-me-nots.
There was a lonely lioness
Who felt their bitter sting.
Yes. She was the loneliest lioness
The world would ever sing.

And here is the news: My author page (recently spawned) is over at http://www.facebook.com/wyrdstories. You can find links to my stories and poetry that have been published, all together, in this strange place. Why don’t you pop on over? We’d be happy to see you.

Penumbra magazine have arranged it so that I can write them a blog post about when and why I decided to write seriously. (Actually, rephrase that: my writing is rarely serious. When and why I decided to write for a living. That’s better.) So watch this space.

The Men Who Loved The Sun is HERE.


Here is the wonderful linky to Volume II, issue 10 of Penumbra magazine. It is based on Japanese mythology. My story “The Men Who Loved The Sun” is inside, printed for the first time. (Yep, I am gobsmacked! In a deliriously joyful way, I hasten to add.) It’s a funny story.
Sometimes, it takes the smallest person to do the important stuff.
But it is also good to work together. For some time now, I have been involved with a writing group on Facebook. We have just released our first anthology of stories. Anthology 1 consists of APOCALYPTIC TALES. Are you all still there? Good. They won’t bite you. They’ll just burrow under your skin…

DISCLAIMER: Although the title of my story is The Lightning-Mouse at the End of the World, no actual lightning-mice were harmed during the writing process. Tens of ink cartridges were.
Reflections of the End is £2.00 to keep and costs you nothing flat to borrow. (Not that you should give it back to me, of course, but y’know what I mean.)

Happy reading.

The Family Liz

Brought up by my good Aunt Derange,
Swapping offspring didn’t seem strange.
But then, before I puzzled the muddle,
I was happier giving my sister a cuddle.
Now I’m not sure who she is
(Though her name’s the same: Liz).
How does she fit in this family,
At least in relation to me?
That is the question I mean –
For how am I supposed to see
If she’s this or that or inbetween?

I found out the confusing truth
From our next door neighbour, Ruth –
Who was in fact my mother’s aunt
Before she was her prodigal sister.
(An aunt who’s a sister? She can’t!)
And if that hasn’t made your brain blister,
My cousin Robert’s really my brother,
And Aunt Derange is not even his mother.

What next I wonder? Am I my own cousin?
Were we part of a litter numbering three dozen?
Is the fish really ours? (What other option?)
Does the gerbil just belong by adoption?
Am I a real Caucasian? Is Liz even human?
Should I still keep this name, or am I a New-man?

July 2013’s issue of Penumbra magazine will contain a short story by me. It is very funny and, like the other stories, will be based on Japanese mythology. (No, my story does not have gonad-stretching raccoon dogs in it – but it’s still funny, trust me.)