dinamurphy


Profile

www.silverstarsandbaubles.weebly.com

I come from Durham, and lived there until I was eighteen. I then moved to a small town in North Yorkshire and ended up – through circumstance and luck – never leaving. I occasionally venture back up North, and feel as though I’ve left a very large part of my heart there.

Now I am nearly thirty, and live in a Victorian terrace with the love of my life and our daughter. I own thousands of books, three black cats and a secondhand dog called Jack. In my professional life, I manage a team of twenty staff who support people with learning disablities. In my private life, I daydream and often forget to pay bills.

I teach creative writing at a University. My favourite words are ‘bauble’, ‘purloin’ and ‘knave’. I love Shakespeare, and spent my formative years dreaming of being an RSC actress. My partner says I am ‘never happy’, and I don’t believe this is a compliment. I love Doctor Who, good escapist drama (not soaps), rain, moonstone, tea, silver, churches, Autumn, open fires, The Beatles, snow, glass beads, old books, Victoriana, clutter, chimneys, lipbalms, reading newspapers, ginger beer and emeralds. I spend too much time looking backwards. I am terrified of balloons and confrontation. I am fearful of underachievement.

Groups

dinamurphy is a member of All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical and Yorkshire Grit.

Journal Entries

Ah, good to be back

Posted 3 months ago, 2 comments so far.

Writing

Two people, courting

He gave her a melon head, heavy with damp and seed. Two / carrot tops for eyes and marrow / thighs and a row of split-peas strung like fairy lights to / shine a pleasing mouth, always on. She grew…

Three sisters in a teashop

Assam, dear? The / question rises, kite-like over brown-bread fox / stoles and chessboard skirts. There is the / squint of flint-carved eyes, wild west gunslingers under threat from / poison arras cur…

And the gobstoppers rolled like marbles

Paul liked his job. He sold penny chews and purple blackjacks, prising them from heavy glass-bottomed jars like dead fish. Rosy lips, jelly snakes, lemonade crystals: he scooped them into crackling ba…

My parents were savages

My parents were savages. Bred from the hills they came down here barefoot, looking for liquor to swig and sand dunes to dance in. They could whirl up a storm, my parents; shuffling black heels enough …

A message to you, Ruby

7th March 2009 You were named after that song. Your father wore braces, bright like over-ripe cherries, and we stayed up until 3am looking at each other’s crow’s feet and laughing. When you sta…

Watchlist

  • Susan Lee
  • thepalms
  • Estera Lungu
  • Richard Murch
  • Anni Morris
  • tambatoys