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Buntyland
This is the text for a piece that I did on RTE (Irish National) Radio’s Sunday Miscellany Programme broadcast in May 2007 (There is a podcast for this somewhere..looking..) For the best part of five years in the glitzy 1980s our favourite game was Bunties. Whenever we got our hands on another issue of the…
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Just enough: Lorrie Moore and the power of description
Last night I started reading Lorrie Moore’s novel A Gate at the Stairs. I’m a fan of her short stories and am interested in seeing how her style pans out in a novel. Whereas I have always been an avid reader, now I can’t help but read and dissect a little as a writer, asking…
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#Fridayflash Woman-Son
Woman-Son When the woman had the baby boy she lay him down to sleep. He held her finger in his fist She roars him into being. He emerges from the earth in unbridled anger, consternation. The moon hung in velvet. The clock was a cheap one bought in a pound store. It tock ticked. Then…
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Confessions of a guilty writing mum
I let my children sit in front of the telly during the holidays for great swathes of time (never did me any harm – in fact it taught me about narrative, character, humour). They concentrate on educational programmes like Horrible Histories (surrealism, history) and Greatest TV blunders (media awareness) and Come Dine with Me (wishful…
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#Fridayflash Rope
Been on hols, so this is an old one. It’s inspired by the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge in County Antrim, Northern Ireland. Yes, I walked it, unlike Callum. Bloody Hell, its freaking high up here – must be eighty feet. Don’t look down Callum. I said no to bungee jumping – swinging into oblivion with your…
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Poetry – Summer
Restless blood thumping Sin spinning in the thick river Hot flesh Neck dips slip sacred hollows Smooth slices honeyed shoulders Teeth and lips sinking plum juice The dark interior Pulse points, black veins Liquid gold pouring On the shallow surface Skin buzzing with molecular nectar Crackle Winter embers from ash flare, flash Incinerated self-slivers sail…
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Alison Wells Author 