I am a poet, novelist and dramatist. I have published three novels and five poetry collections. My work has appeared in the UK, US, Canada and Europe, including The Antioch Review (US), Grain (Canada) The London Magazine, TLS, Poetry Salzburg Review, Critical Survey, Stand, Under the Radar and The Rialto. My novels include The Mercury Annual and Pilgrims at the White Horizon, both available and reviewed on Amazon; my poetry collections include Port Winston Mulberry (Littlejohn and Bray) and Come To Pass (Oversteps Books). I am a lecturer in English and Creative Writing with the Open University and also publish reviews (in The London Magazine and TLS) and academic articles (including on Robert Frost, Heinrich Boll, J.M. Synge and Ronald Blythe). Since 2004, I have been poet-in-residence at the annual Robert Frost Festival, Key West, Florida. My writing derives from a variety of themes, many of which take me by surprise. Thank you for looking at my profile. My website is www.michaelwthomas.co.uk.
Michael Thomas in 60 seconds
When did you start writing?12 Staffordshire
What do you love about Short Stories?The combination of the compact form and the possibilities for innovation.
Do you write in other forms?Novels, poems, plays
What distracts you from writing?Not that much, once I have a focus.
Outside of writing, what are your other passions?Music (vocals, guitar, percussion); the theatre and cinema; photography.
What is your favourite book?The stories of William Trevor and most American poetry.
Who are your favourite writers?F. Scott Fitzgerald , Robert Browning and Harold Pinter
Where is your dream location?Canada, where I lived for many years
What one item would you put into Room 101?people who complain about sandals with socks.
Do you have any advice for new writers?Something that Seamus Heaney was told: 'Go your own way, do your own work.' Don't run in gangs.
ebooks by Michael Thomas:
'Give You A Game?'
It was the scarf. They said the desk had been cleared but a bit of dirty-looking tartan still poked out under the lid. The desk had been moved to the side of the classroom but with its back to the wall, so you could still sneak a glance at the scarf. During the last two days of term, he found it harder and harder not to. ‘Away with the fairies again, Paul?’ Mrs Watton’s voice wasn’t unkind, hadn’t been at any time throughout the year. Without resentment, Paul turned back to his book. But he still saw the scarf like a pattern behind the words he read, and his heart was still on fire. A coming of age tale...but what kind of age, and can this boy bear it?
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