I promised myself I’d write a Substack post each month, and as I’m still obsessing about book to film characters, this seemed like a no brainer - ‘My top 5 book to screen characters from non-UK authors’. Is your fave there? 👀 To read click link in bio or head to: https://bit.ly/FeministsToExorcists #Characters #BookToScreen #Writing #Article

✍🏻 Meandering along the quiet early morning streets, pink clouds roll in overhead, speckling their reflection on the water below. The music from last night reverberates through my muscles, warming my limbs and countering the cool breeze that drifts across my body. I’m so familiar with my route, I close my eyes and continue walking, imagining myself back on the dance-floor. Moving with ease and fluidity, I vanish into the mass of bodies dancing around me. One of many. A nobody, or perhaps a somebody in the midst of the throng. Then a white flash. A bright stark light. The music ends and the safety of darkness is stripped away. Now I’m nearly home, reluctant to actually step inside and begin the day. But I know I need to wake him. To make his breakfast and ensure he has a shower. To walk him to school and make sure he goes inside. And I want to. I want to do all of it. I really do, but it feels like a weight. A heavy numbing weight, and all I can think about is being back there, safe in the music. Feeling everything and thinking nothing. #Storytelling #Writing #Flash #Short

👀 Read my Substack article to find out…(heavy hint: it might have something to do with book to screen icons) Link in bio or go to https://bit.ly/BegbieMarple #Writing #Characters #Book #Film

✍🏻 When I saw the binoculars in my son‘s room, I assumed they were another conciliatory gift from his father. An expensive present bought to soften the blow of him yet again not following through on his promises. At no point was I concerned about what my son might be using the binoculars for. He was fifteen years old, I thought being quiet and a little withdrawn was normal for his age. Then the school called and everything changed. #Storytelling #MicroFiction #Writer #Binoculars

I’ve written a book, so I wrote a Substack post about why I’ve written a book. (Link in bio or go to https://bit.ly/wroteabook) Navigating your forties is no picnic despite the empowerment and embracing of your authentic self that the socials throw at us. So I’ve written the post and the book for all the misfits, for those that feel a little lost, for those still searching for themselves and for those craving a bit of nineties nostalgia. #Novel #TimeTravelIsCheaperThanTherapy #Writer #90s

✍🏻 In a bid to try and forget about her imploding life, she used her final pay check to book two weeks in the south of France. The warm air and long purposeless walks were proving therapeutic, until four days in when she turned a corner and saw ‘the bastard’ taking photos outside a closed down shop-come-bar. Instant rage erupted in her chest. What were the chances of her arsehole ex-boss turning up in the same French town she’d escaped to in order to re-evaluate her life? Maybe it was fate. He looked no different, still adhering to his regimented office uniform of crisp navy trousers, tight fitting waistcoat and brashly coloured shirt. Two months earlier she’d stood in his office as he gleefully explained that her role was no longer viable. Other words he’d carefully selected included ‘surplus, dispensable, unnecessary’. After twenty years of committed service, in just a few months everything changed. What she thought was important suddenly wasn’t. The people she spoke to daily became strangers. Her commute, no longer needed. Even her lunch routine was assigned to the bin. She’d spent her entire adult life creating a safe and routine world, quietly showing up day after day, yet it had all so quickly collapsed into rubble. Thank you and goodbye. Well actually, not even a thank you or goodbye. Just ‘clear your desk by morning’. She stared at him now snapping poorly framed photos on a camera that cost more than her entire holiday. The urge to snatch it from his hands and smash it repeatedly against the wall was overpowering and her legs twitched with adrenalin. But even in that giddy second she knew the feeling of satisfaction would be short lived and she craved more. He deserved a longer lasting punishment for being an utter knob. Which is why she followed him back to his hotel (at a reasonable distance obviously, she’d seen enough movies to know how to successfully stalk someone). And after watching him walk up the concierged steps of his five star hotel, she headed back to her own more modest accommodation to plan his total downfall. #Story #Writing #Revenge