My PhD research was done at the Centre for Agroecology and Water Resilience, at Coventry University. At Coventry, when you sit your viva voce, the final examination for doctoral researchers, you are allowed (encouraged, even) to do a presentation as part of the process. It gives everyone a chance to settle in, and you the… Continue reading PhD research: A short summary
Author: emma
Unwon awards
This page details the awards I have not won. It could be that I’ll be nominated for some of these some day, but chances are slim to pretty much exactly nothing. Feel free to change that, though. Nom away! Nobel Prize for Literature or Peace Pulitzer Prize for Fiction Booker Prize Pushcart Award nomination Tony… Continue reading Unwon awards
2023 awards eligible stories
I had a whole bunch of short stories published this year, some of which are eligible for awards. If you’re out there nominating stories for horror, sci-fi, or other awards (Hugo, Nebula, Stoker, Astounding, etc.), I’d love your support. Here are the ones that you could nominate: Therapy: space (2023). The Hellebore, Issue 11. Because… Continue reading 2023 awards eligible stories
The tale of the fourth or fifth wife of Mssr. Bleue
It wasn’t that I didn’t know about the crypt under the house when I married him. Everyone knew about the crypt, and the keys he always carried, especially the large silver key that he wouldn’t let anyone touch but made sure everyone saw. It wasn’t that I didn’t know. And it wasn’t that I didn’t care. It’s just that I… Continue reading The tale of the fourth or fifth wife of Mssr. Bleue
Carnage
They should’ve believed me, those zoo people. Now it’s a lot of clean-up. I warned the zookeepers, but they said the penguins needed their daily walk. They said it was good for them, lowered their stress levels. I said I get it, I go on walks too. Good for thinking, for plotting. I told them I’d seen… Continue reading Carnage
If you are reading this…
I might be dead. Maybe it was from illness. Maybe it was an accident. It could have been by my own hand. Anything is possible. If you’re reading this, please take care of my plants. Water them, but not too much. Sing to them sometimes. If you’re reading this, tell my sister I love her. Tell my son I’m proud of him. Tell… Continue reading If you are reading this…
On the day I was ready
A gust of wind buffets me, and I push my hair out of my eyes. The view up here is glorious, a vast and dramatic sky. Endless spires. Industrious people below. I spread my arms wide. I inhale, draw in cold air. I exhale, expel my failures. My mobile chimes, shakes me from the moment. It’s not a good time, but when is? I digit out of my pocket. One new email.… Continue reading On the day I was ready
Overqualified
“I can write whatever you want, in whatever style you want. I’m really good.” I know I sound desperate. “There’s a list of publications on my CV.” I hold out the papers, crisp from the folder I’ve been trying not to squeeze, outlining my four degrees and 10 years’ experience. He nods and grins, his neon orange glasses and overly-white teeth reflecting the too-bright lights. “You’re like AI.… Continue reading Overqualified
The night is still young
“Alright ladies, what’s the plan?” “You’re late! We’re doing a birthday scavenger hunt!” “A what?” “It’s a game. We do all the things on the list, and at the end there’s a prize.” “And a lot of drinks.” “Not at the end, though. The drinks happen on the way.” “Seriously? Gimme that. One: dance on a table.… Continue reading The night is still young
Lesser told stories
“Can I see your ID?” says the cashier lazily. “Huh?” “Your ID. I need to see it.” Thalia stares at him. He is 17 years old, max, and here she is with a baby on her hip, two bags on her arm, and her debit card in her hand. Her ID? “What for?” “For the… Continue reading Lesser told stories