My Story from Twisted’s Evil Little Sister: Busy Izzie
My Story from Twisted50 vol 2: A Night With Lucille Hogweed
Favourite quote: ‘You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…Until you climb into his skin and walk around in it’
– To Kill A Mockingbird
Mam to a bonny bairn; communication support worker/teaching assistant. Every spare moment, I write. I love to Lindy Hop and tap dance.
I am a mam, teaching assistant and communication support worker, and a writer of screenplays, plays and short stories; often to be found writing beyond the ‘witching hour’ to get writing done. After being shortlisted in the Commonword Children’s Diversity novel writing prize in 2013 – when I had the privilege of meeting the Children’s Laureate Malorie Blackman – an extract from my novel Wallace’s Brat is to be published in an anthology in 2018. I am currently working on a redraft of the novel.
Last year I was one of the winners of Impact50 with my script Francis of Fell End Farm. 2017 has been a busy, challenging and productive year as I went on a journey to bring together a team of people to film Francis of Fell End Farm, which has entered post-production phase.
I also look forward to the publication of A night with Lucille Hogweed in the forthcoming Twisted50 volume 2 short story anthology.
My Links: Twitter
A hesitant writer recently asked about writing. “I want to write a book. Where do you find the time? Where do you get the ideas? You must have a good imagination.” I said something along the lines of – “You just have to start writing.” Of course, this is true (and obvious) but if I’d
Nervously excited I pressed the play button to hear the extract from ‘Busy Izzie’. Tantalising snippets of music… Why is the music stuttering? My temperamental laptop froze. My giddy aunt! I closed and restarted the browser… Tinkling, repeated piano notes, giving a feeling that ‘something wicked this way comes’, which immediately had me imagining Izzie
I’m a scaredy-cat… when it comes to reading or watching horror – there’s no denying that. It probably stems from walking into the living-room, when I was about six, to tell my mam that I was frightened of the dark, just as, on the television screen, a shadowy face emerged from the darkness and peered