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| Booksie Address: | http://www.booksie.com/brinsley |
| Country: | United Kingdom |
| Favorite book: | The Remembrance of Things Past |
| Member Since: | Jun 28, 2007 |
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Nov 5, 2007
A prose poem describing an otherworldly trek through...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Sep 29, 2007
The gift of a dying leaf and what it meant to me.
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Aug 29, 2007
Reflections on a homeless wreck. Not for the...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Jul 16, 2007
Drunk skinheads accost me in the park. From my journal...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Sep 4, 2008
I sweated, I twisted, I laid awake, but the title would...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Jun 29, 2008
A ghastly nightmare that shatters my peace...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Jun 23, 2008
A forced encounter with the stinkiest human that ever lived
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Jun 15, 2008
No sex no passion no latex...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Nov 19, 2007
Nightmare about a favourite horse.
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Nov 5, 2007
A prose poem describing an otherworldly trek through...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Oct 13, 2007
Troubled by human foetuses the Royal College of Surgeons.
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Sep 29, 2007
The gift of a dying leaf and what it meant to me.
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Aug 29, 2007
Reflections on a homeless wreck. Not for the...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Aug 23, 2007
A bloodsoaked nightmare. From my journal dated 23 August...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Aug 20, 2007
Reading, then losing it...a twisted tale of interruptions...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Aug 13, 2007
16 JULY 2007 is better...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Aug 12, 2007
The letter that cracked a friendship...I never heard...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Aug 9, 2007
Mass murder in an antiques shop.
A Novel by brinsley
Posted: Jul 18, 2007
Recaptures a magical summer long submerged in memory. My...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Jul 16, 2007
Drunk skinheads accost me in the park. From my journal...
A Short Story by brinsley
Posted: Jul 14, 2007
First love, lost forever...marble-white skin, piercing...
The aim of the artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that, a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again, since it is life. --William Faulkner
If I achieve this once I have achieved everything I could ever wish for..
Another word from the master:
Read, read, read. Read everything--trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it is good, you will find out. If it's not, throw it out of the window.
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