Dialogue in its purest form is a means of communication, whether written or spoken. In literature, it’s the technique that depicts two or more characters engaged in a conversation. We use Dialogue in writing, the same way we use speech in real life, to show ourselves or characters. Telling a
When I try and describe the function of language, I’m reminded, by the younger me who dreamt of attending Hogwarts, by the words of the late great Albus Dumbledore. ‘Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.’ I intend to cause
Today marks three years since I started writing my novel. Well, it’s three years since I began tracking my progress. Well, today marks the day I first acknowledged the writing process. I actually started thinking about it sometime in November after a drink with a friend. And although I still
I was nine or ten when I started reading a book with a red background and the protagonist’s name in yellow capital letters. The front of a red train raced from the page. The painted destination read Hogwarts Express. A bewildered cartoon figure with thin circular glasses and a lightning
I live to write, but sometimes life gets in the way. It’s the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. Now, I’ve said it, it sounds like a depressing existence, but it isn’t really, it’s just my favourite pass time. It’s all I’ve done from an early
There lives a distant and mythical world where artists, consumers and trolls live in a state of constant war. Artists fight for their rights to expressions, as consumers seek the best deals from their suppliers while trolls seek to destroy the world in which they all inhabit. These battles play
As my first draft wore on and evolved in countless redrafts, I began to develop new plots and character motivations for different stories. It was an escape from thinking about the novel that stole two years of my focus. Soon, everything became a story. An interesting character on my commute
My mum gave me this bestseller as a Christmas present last year, but I didn’t rush to read it. I had plenty of books to make my way through, and the other book she brought seemed more appealing. I picked up the other book, and from the first line, I
I’ve decided I don’t want to work anymore. A friend of mine works in an office and told me about his experience, but I’d scratch my eyes out staring at a screen and pull my remaining hair out as the phone rang around me. I enjoy my job at times,
I started my blogging journey in 2016, posting poetry and spoken word performances on SoundCloud. I built a decent following, not huge numbers, but a few supporters who engaged with my poems and helped me build my confidence. I’d never aspired to blog my opinions or tell stories because all I’d wanted to do was share my poetry.
Jakov blinks. Everything’s dark and dust blurs the homes reduced to rubble. None stand, everything blown to bits, the street he whistled along lays in tatters, mortgages and valuables, sentimental or material, gone and destroyed in seconds. Families, friend, neighbours, all unaccounted for, is this all happening in his head?