Dropping the Dime On Ray Bradbury

Scott Perkins, Author

On the day Ray Bradbury died, I was sitting at a computer loaned to me by a local library, working on the first draft of Howard Carter Saves the World. This is important because Mr. Bradbury, you see, didn’t own a typewriter when he started out. He rented one in the basement of UCLA’s Powell Library for $.10 per half hour. Fahrenheit 451 famously cost him $9.80 to write.

That’s a bargain by any measure.

If you’ve never used a typewriter to write anything of length, I invite you to go do so and come back to marvel with me at the economy of this claim. One of the great works of American Letters took less than 49 hours to complete. That’s a groundbreaking novel (originally published as a serial in Playboy magazine) written in 6 and a half standard workdays. All because its author was counting his dimes.


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Review Time

An' de walls came tumblin' down

When my first book, Neither Here Nor There, was published, I didn’t know what to expect. Would anyone buy it? Would anyone read it? Would anyone like it?

Neither Here Nor There Cover

Two years on, I’m proud of what my little novel has achieved. It’s informed some readers about things of which they had no knowledge, it’s rung true with many of those in the know, and most of all, it’s brought joy to many readers.

One thing I did know in advance: not everyone would like it. I think that’s true of any book. If every review of a book has only praises for it, you begin to think something is rotten in the state of Goodreads.

I knew in advance that some readers would find the story not to their taste. Not everyone likes romance; not everyone likes sweet and gentle stories. That’s why I was particularly pleased with the words of the…

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Summer Fate

Tim's Blog

Looking out of the window at the rain has reminded me of a poem I wrote a year or two ago about the joys of the great British summer. 

Summer Fate

We were waiting for weeks, all though April and May

for those much-vaunted months that begin with a J.

We’ve had three weeks of sunshine, it’s gone to our head

and we’ve thrown out our wellies, bought sandals instead,

now it’s out with the barbecue, off with the shirt

and we go red like prawns – ooh, that’s going to hurt!

and as for the prawns, well they’re all going black

but who cares? We’ve got beer, and we’re knocking it back

like there is no tomorrow, and maybe that’s wise:

in the morning, one cursory glance at the skies

shows that if that was summer, it’s been and it’s gone;

once again, the sly sun has been having…

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#atinylife swimming²

Today’s tinylife blog is about swimming – again…

Stella Hervey Birrell, Writer

Swimming again.

Two boys drag each other, by the leg, into the shallows. Back and forth: chasing, splashing.

It doesn’t look any fun. Being dragged by your leg in water, with your head mostly in the water. Are they breathing enough? Are they encouraged to be violent with each other?

Did they argue earlier, has the ‘game’ turned nasty?

However, is it really any of my concern? I decide to leave them to it.

Later, there they are again. Still dragging.

‘Are you still playing that game?’


I don’t get it. So I ask: a leading question, but I inject some sarcasm, just in case, as I suspect…

‘Is it, like, the best game ever?’

‘Yes. It is the BEST game ever.’

They grin, one grabs the other by the leg, and off they go.FullSizeRender (27)

What would I know?

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The Woman Behind Klimt’s Dresses: Emilie Louise Flöge

This gallery contains 6 photos.

Originally posted on Emma Rose Millar:
Gustav Klimt is perhaps best known for his golden swirls, bejewelled geometrics and glorious shades of lime, tangerine and cherry. His female subjects are draped in Japanese inspired fabrics and delicate mosaic prints. But…

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