Upcoming Book Launch

TFTG launch promo

The launch of the North Bristol Writers’ newest anthology, Tales From The Graveyard, is from 5pm until 7pm on Saturday 2nd March at Arnos Vale Cemetery, Bristol.

There will be readings, signed copies up for grabs, and a chance to discover how we stitched together the pages of frights, desires, nightmares and tragedy into a monster!

The event page is on Facebook.

Hope to see you all there.

Review of Reef on their Revelation Tour.

Bressant 1

Jack Bressant from Reef ©Pacific Curd Photography



Thursday night I took a break from writing fiction and was lucky enough to see west country rockers, Reef, and black country bruisers, Broken Witt Rebels, at the Cheese and Grain in Frome. If you’d like to know what I thought then you can read my review on the impressive Rock ‘n’ Load magazine here. If not, visit the page simply for the energy captured by the great photography, courtesy of my pal, Pacific Curd.

We’re not all going to die!

I attended a workshop on climate change yesterday held by the Bristol Climate Writers as part of the Bristol Festival of Literature.

As part of the course the group was asked to write two short pieces, one dystopian, one utopian. Afterward, it was generally agreed that dystopia was a lot easier to portray. Not surprising as we are surrounded daily by suffering and injustices.

Member of Bristol Climate Writers, Emma Turnbull, argued that “when we feel threatened with no perceived possibility of escape, we are at risk of experiencing trauma and developing PTSD”. With this in mind, maybe a prevalence of dystopian themes can be damaging.

If we begin to imagine utopias more, bring them into debate and discuss the possibilities, is that not positive thinking? And might that not bring about change? It’s hard to imagine in a race so scared living on a world so depleted, but it’s worth a shot. Start a conversation today.

My two workshop pieces:



Outside my window the last tree stands. The July sky is dappled by crisp dead leaves.

I am the only one who still comes to the office on Narrow Quay.

I am the only one.

I do no work as there is no work to be done.

Sweat replaces the tears that used to moisten the brittle rubber seal of my oxygen mask. They continued to manufacture rubber and plastics until the end because the masses continued to buy them; only the rich could afford the sustainable alternatives and they were the ones who made the plastic. 

The cylinder by my legs is finally empty. A voice doesn’t need breath, just somebody to hear it.




Their fingers pressed those buttons years back and dystopia died along with the many.


I may not have mastered utopias yet, but I’m going to keep trying.



Rewilding Interpreted


© Boswell

Met up with the legend that is Mutartis Boswell the other night, talked about art, horror, writing and the oddity that is Cerne Abbas – I’m not kidding that is a weird place! We also discussed publishing, and I’m stoked to announce plans for a collaboration with this talented artist to publish a very special chapbook for you all.

More to come on that one. In the meantime go check out Bos and let him know that Nash sent you.