Writer’s Corner: Night Notes – Nose


Most say that it’s the eyes that they first fall in love with. But for me it was your nose, your beautiful strong nose.

I saw that nose and I knew. I knew that you were the one that I wanted to be with; that you were my forever person.

You were standing in a crowd of people and the only thing I could see was you. It was like you had this silver glow around you, a glow so strong that it filtered everyone else out. Blanked out their faces. All I could see was you and all I wanted was you.

I took a deep breathe and made a beeline towards you, making sure that I didn’t spill the drinks that were carefully balancing on my hand. Oh how I hated balancing shit on my hand. It was a massive pet peeve for me. Every move that I made had to be calculated, there was no excuse for error, not with me.

All I wanted to do was sashay up to you. Hypnotise you with my swaying hips, but this blasted drinks tray that was balancing on my hand was keeping me from doing this.

Instead I sheepishly sidled up to you. At first I didn’t say anything. I just sort of hovered there, half expecting you to turn around, knock the tray onto the floor, sweep me into your arms and take my breathe away with your kiss. That strong nose of yours battling with my own.

But you were so engrossed in your conversation with the lady with the synthetic wig, that you didn’t even notice that I was there.

Finally I built up my confidence and opened my mouth to offer you a drink. Without looking my way you waved me off. Deflated I headed back to my starting position. The blasted drinks tray feeling heavier than ever before.

I watched you all night. You never left your spot. I served countless blank underserving faces. But not you. Not once did you look my way.

After the final drink was drunk and the final canapé was eaten, with a heavy heart I left.

As I waited outside for my cab to arrive, thoughts of our future life, our house, our kids, little trips to the beach and picnics in the park plagued my head.

I checked my phone for the umpteenth time, for the status of this cab that was supposedly only 5 mins away; and then suddenly there you were.

Time stood still, the noises around me on pause.

You asked me for a light and as a non-smoker who keeps a lighter in her bag for such occasions I produced you with one.

You sparked up and I felt my heart flutter and beat back to life. Your voice melting my insides as you spoke of your distaste of evenings such as this.

You asked me my name and 10 minutes later we knew each other’s hopes and dreams.

A notification that my driver had cancelled on me propelled me back to the living and the fear of not being able to get home from the north of London to the south of London sent shockwaves through me.

As if sensing my fear you offered to share a cab with me, only because you were going in that direction anyway and how you could never leave a damsel in distress.

The cab pulled up and we both got in and thus began the greatest love story ever told.

Writer’s Corner: Finger Guns

bubble gun

When your back is turned I like to throw up my fuck you fingers. I keep throwing them up until a sense of euphoria trickles through me. It makes me feel powerful.

Most times I do it when I’m not in the same room as you. But on the odd occasion I like to do it when you’re near. The adrenaline kicks through me, will you turn around when I’m halfway through and catch me at it?

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Words of wisdom!

This morning as I booted up my… well turned on my phone, my laptop is still out of action *pours some liquor on the carpet*; I decided to start to look for jobs in television again. 

As I scrolled through hundreds of jobs that I had no interest what so ever in or even had one iota of experience in, my heart died a hundred deaths. Visions of me sat forever cooped up in front of a computer and speaking on the phone to people I didn’t want to talk to (basically the job I’m doing now) plagued me. That disheartening feeling you get when you think, Shit I’m never  gonna leave cast a bleak shadow over me. The feeling of doubt and the ‘I’m never going to fulfill my dreams’ funk hit me like a ton of bricks.

It was then my good friend Google whispered in my ears seductivly, teasing me to type the words writersroom into its engine of search. That’s when the greatest words I have ever seen came to me. It was from Henry Swindell of the Writersroom he told a tale of a TV writer frustrated with not getting a breakthrough and wanting to become a runner just so that he could make it into television. Swindell proceeded to ask this writer if they wished to be a runner or a writer to which that writer said a writer. So Swindell told him that he needed to write more. That in order to be a writer you need to write. 

What an absolute guru. Words so simple yet so important.

Why should I waste time applying for jobs that I have no interest or desire in just so I can get my foot back into television, when at the end of the day all I want to do is be a writer.

What I need to do more of is write! And trust me write I will!