Gravity

Hello?

I’m not Major Tom, but is anybody out there? I mean really.

I don’t want to be packed in like a sardine, blowing blood bubbles to myself.

But if somebody knocked, would I peel back the lid?

Someone with more hair on his chest once wrote:

You must go on.
I can’t go on.
I’ll go on.

Don’t take the writing so seriously. Don’t take the role of writer so seriously. And if you’re looking for approval, you’ll never find it.

Write what you will and let the world decide. Write what the world wants and you’ll never decide.

Poor bugger, see how he looks so forlorn with his head on his chest. Must be because, because, because, because.

Let’s start again, you and me, shall we? Let’s rip it up and start again.

Cut the life line and float….

Can it be done?

I don’t know, but someone’s got to try otherwise it’s down to the writer or the man and everybody knows how that story ends. Except you, of course.

If you find beauty in logic think how much more beauty you’ll find in fiction.

Isolation. It starts the moment you turn back.

Gravity. Feel it one word at a time.

My comic short story “Survival of the Fittest” has recently been published at the Lowestoft Chronicle, a fantastic online literary magazine that mixes humour and travel. Take a read, if you like, and while you’re at it, read the whole magazine — there’s lots of good fiction there.

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