Oh nonononononono….

It can be tricky in this day and age explaining to some people exactly how they are misogynist, racist or any of the other ‘isms’ that we’re all proud not to be.  In the good old days, misogyny was easy to call out – and still is sometimes today – because people would turn round and say ‘Don’t try and rig that light, Cat Webb, you’re a woman and won’t do it right.’ These days its more subtle than that, but just because it’s not as blatant doesn’t mean it’s not there.  It’s there every single time I have to …

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Spring comes to London 2017

Spring has come to London!  And it is, as always, beautiful.  After four months of glum limited hours and leafless trees, there’s the smell of flowers on the air, fresh buds on the branches, and the foxes are getting ever bolder by day and night….

Some Upcoming Stuff 2017!

World!  A few bits and bobs! The Djinn Falls in Love is released NOW.  An anthology of short stories edited by the awesome Jared Shurin and Mahvesh Murad, it features works from a line-up of stunningly excellent writers, and one story from me to lower the tone.  Despite this, it should be great – go get yourselves a copy! The End of the Day is the next book what I wrote, and it is released April 4th in hardback, ebook and audiobook, narrated by the deeply excellent Peter Kenny.  It is the story of the Harbinger of Death, a nice …

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Light in Winter

At dawn, you see the reflection of the sunlight off tall buildings, before you see the sun.  The sky is a powdery blue-grey, and distances seem odd.  Are those clouds overhead, or has the day simply not yet come into definition? The light rises a little higher, cold, brilliant and yellow-white.  Sometimes it peeps out through thick cloud in solid streams, like shrapnel from a celestial bomb.  You can see it move, flow in and out across the paving stones as clouds skud overhead in high winds.  You still haven’t spotted the sun, but it’s making itself known. Some mornings, …

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I am not creepy

Sitting in a cafe, waiting for a friend.  I’ve been there about 20 minutes, having arrived early, reading a book about, of all things, digestive bacteria, ‘cos it’s one of those days. There’s a guy sat by the window.  He’s reading what looks suspiciously like a script.  Making notes on it in the margin.  Not an actor – actors tend to highlight and bind things properly and make notes in other places so they don’t get their shit muddled.  Not a technician.  We make notes on the back of the opposite page – I mean, not everyone has to behave …

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