Phoebe Quinn



7 reasons your novel might be a short story (and how to fix them)

I am a fan of the humble short story - so much so that I am currently constructing a novel out of them. But it’s an underrated medium, one that is almost feared by both authors and the publishing industry,... Continue Reading →

Using and abusing the past

The adage ‘write what you know’ has been thrown around and debated in equal measure by far too many people at far too many points. Yet, as with all adages, it has an element of merit, one I have been... Continue Reading →

Why I don’t write every day

My Twitter timeline is awash with urging. Write every day. Even if it’s for ten minutes. Just write. Write well and often. And so on. But, should you really be writing every day? Getting the balance right between craft, routine,... Continue Reading →

7 ways to write visually (without describing everything)

The world is pretty visual, but I’m not. Despite my insistence that, if I had to choose, I’d rather lose my hearing than my sight, I’ve never been able to work in a visual way. My mother is an artist... Continue Reading →


Watching a band I’d never heard of playing their last ever gig was a surreal experience. My friend was lost in the moment so I didn’t turn round and talk to her, and as I leaned on the bar in... Continue Reading →

10 ways to get through your crappy job

If you’re reading this, I’m guessing that being a full-time writer, a fully-fledged author, is one of your dream scenarios. Working for yourself and doing what you love - it couldn’t get better. Unfortunately, most of us have a day... Continue Reading →

The multimedia writer: Beyond the blog

Self-publishing, if you want to be good at it, is a lot of work. A few nights ago I rattled off all the things I’ll need to consider in the coming months if I want to give my book the... Continue Reading →

Why it’s okay not to be Beyonce. Really.

Where did SLAY, QUEEN (or SLAY QUEEN or SLAAAAY QUEEEEEN and variations thereof) come from? Actually, you know what, I don’t care where it came from. All I care about is that it is my least favourite Internet phrase of... Continue Reading →

Has self-publishing made everything a bit… sterile?

Six year-old me dreamed of seeing my name shining on hardbacks in the window of Waterstone’s as the latest bestselling debut author. Twenty-seven year old me has altered the dream slightly to a single webpage with the all-important average customer... Continue Reading →

Friday Reads: 8th April 2016

Spring has sprung! What happiness, what joy. I’ve even planted flowers and chillis in pots on the windowsill in front of my flat, because it would be nice to see something bright and cheery every time I leave or come... Continue Reading →

The ‘Everyone Else’ Syndrome, or, I probably don’t know a thing

I don’t like Jane Austen’s books. As a twentysomething English female, I am probably betraying several aspects of my heritage by admitting this, but I just can’t get into it. Nor Hardy, Dickens, Byron; any of the classic A-level texts... Continue Reading →

I still don’t have telekinetic powers

When I was a kid, I was convinced that I could move the world with my eyes. (It was no coincidence that, a few years later, my favourite children’s book would be Matilda by Roald Dahl.) Of course, things never actually... Continue Reading →

The loss of pizza

This is not, by any stretch, my best writing, but I don't know how else to say it. Apparently I've had depression before, but I wasn't aware of it until I went to the doctor asking to be signed off... Continue Reading →

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