Background to stories
In my stories, I’m not so interested in violent retribution. It might appear now and then, but it’s never the point. What matters in the unfolding story is that the main character finds a way to turn the tables with quiet confidence and a bit of wit.
In other stories my dogs appear.. These stories are full of puns and dad jokes—light on the surface, with just a little bite just underneath. Oops. I can't help myself..
Betty
Betty was someone I worked with years ago. She’d lived in a large institution before being moved through various community houses, never quite settling. She was smart, dry-witted, and absolutely did not suffer fools.
But as she got older, things got harder. The last time I saw her, she was sitting in a chair while her support worker ignored her completely—as if she wasn’t even there. The worker had no time for her. Betty knew it.
In my version of her story, she starts to fight back.
Ira
This started as a little letter to a friend’s child—a silly story about my dog and all the things it can’t do (but tries anyway). It was meant to be small and personal. The story morphed into a four-page tale—still daft, still light-hearted, and full of puns .
Elsie
When I was thirteen, I used to talk to a woman named Elsie. She was in her twenties, went to my sister’s day centre, and barely spoke—but she was always friendly.
Elsie had learning disabilities. She stood apart, steady— waiting to be talked to.
Later, I found out her dad would invite his friends round and theyd take turns 'visiting' her. Everyone knew. No one acted. Their silence stuck with me.
In the version of her life I carry, Elsie doesn’t stay quiet.
She waits. She watches.
And one day, she makes her move
It's hard to do this one. it's a work. in progress.
Arbus
The Arbus story comes from a visit I made to an exhibition of Diane Arbus photo raohs. I’ve always seen the people in her photographs as ordinaryindividuals— unfortunately, people who’ve had to endure decades of being looked at like sideshow freaks.
In this story, I imagine helping them escape. One by one, they step out of the picture frames and back into the world, no longer trapped by someone else’s gaze. This is a work in progress
other bits & pieces
