Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
Yesterday evening, a bohemian vegetarian café in Harrogate saw my inaugural attempt at reading my prose in an open mic night. This literary virginity lost when orating a 1000-word narrative parodying my wedding ceremony, in 1988. As I have shared some of the unreliable memories beforehand via blog, not a 100% new monologue. However, following... Continue Reading →
For fifty plus springtides the middle Sunday in March afforded my siblings (Ian, Helen) and me opportunity to bestow a well-earned thank you to our much-loved mum (Maggie). A warm, funny, caring, and loving parent who, along with our equally admirable father, ensured our fledgling years were awash with encouragement, positivity, laughter, and security. The... Continue Reading →
Confronted with a topic prompt of 'colour' for this literary piece, two different storylines sprung to mind. Those options, waxing lyrical about newly sprung colour from spring’s dawning, or, alternately, relaying tales of the colourful language frequently utilised by my Ossett beau Sarah. After a period of contemplation, I decided that although daffs, crocuses and... Continue Reading →
Perched in a south Leeds café, it has been a productive morning writing wise; culminating in me completing a 1,000-word submission for a writing group while. The topic prompt of ‘colour’ stirring my creative juices, subsequently, spawning an endearing yarn about my partner’s colourful language. I may share this pastiche of old potty mouth’s scattergun... Continue Reading →
After abandoning a novel project whose storyline was not flowing as desired, I recently wrote about sitting at a writing crossroads. My decision to postpone the work taken despite spending hundreds of hours constructing the piece. As revealed in the last narrative, a decision which has not left me overly downhearted. After all, I am... Continue Reading →
I am plagued by jawbone discomfort as I pen this narrative. A self-inflicted facial injury, the consequence of my long-term habit of grinding the mandible (lower bone) against the skull joint. As the act of grating the jaw makes me gurn, it's a tick I thankfully only carry out in the privacy of my own... Continue Reading →
I’m back on the road when writing today’s blog. Incidentally, when alluding to ‘writing on the road’ yours truly means penning this missive away from my apartment. Clearly, am not referring to creating this prose at the wheel of my moving car, or that I am sitting in the fast lane of the M1 motorway... Continue Reading →
Saturday saw me journey north from West Yorkshire to my boyhood town of Gateshead, where I left to seek my fortune in 1987. This odyssey to attend a gig at Glasshouse International Music Centre (GIMC), formerly known as the Sage. Footnote – I never earned much of a fortune, but spending the last 37 years... Continue Reading →
Seeking inspiration for today’s writing group submission I wandered a lane taking me to a time where I wore a younger man’s clothes. Well, to be more accurate, when I wore a young boy’s clothes… That reminds me, I need to return those clothes to the young boy; after all, I have had them for... Continue Reading →