The worst thing about surfing (of which there are many) is the wet suit. I now understand the plight of Edwardian women forced into rib crackingly tight corsets and can fully sympathise with the Suffragettes burning their restrictive undergarments. Clothes so tight that you’re forced to walk like you’ve soiled your trousers should be outlawed by the European Court of Human Rights.
The dream of any writer is surely to have their own private space in which to let the creative magic flow. That ornate mahogany writing desk nestled beneath expansive bay windows looking out onto an endless green lawn. Just you, your laptop, and a deep golden decanter of the finest whiskey — or maybe that’s just me.
I don’t remember exactly how I found The Enigma of Amigara Fault (maybe it found me…), but the story and graphic depictions of horror immediately captured my imagination and sent my stomach into that pit of despair reserved for only the best horror fiction. Remember the first time you saw the chestburster scene in Alien or the bit where The Thing bites off the scientist’s hands? That’s Junji Ito.
I’m two weeks (alright, thirteen days) into my daily writing challenge and I’ve already learnt a lot. As a bonus, this milestone has also given me an excuse to write a listicle. Interestingly, Google’s spell check doesn’t recognise the word ‘listicle’ and instead tries to substitute it for the word ‘testicle.’ I leave you to decide whether this has any bearing on the content you’re about to read.
Flowers for Algernon tells the story of Charlie Gordon, a man of low IQ who is volunteered to take part in an experimental treatment to increase his intelligence. But the treatment works too well, turning Charlie into an unparalleled genius and giving him a window into the soul of humanity.