https://katiesreadingroom.com Katie's Reading Room Wed, 13 May 2020 12:26:36 +0000 https://katiesreadingroom.com en https://katiesreadingroom.com/A-wee-uddate Wed, 13 May 2020 12:26:36 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/A-wee-uddate ✨ A wee update ✨ I work with brands shaping the future – from global tech giants like Meta to system disrupting startups like NotCo. Together, we bring fresh perspective, galvanise global communities and create real, tangible change. If you're looking for the words to make a better future, please get in touch. 💛&nbsp; Katie OK, I’VE READ YOUR BLOOMING UPDATE. TAKE ME TO THE READING ROOM👉 https://katiesreadingroom.com/Nature-Writing Wed, 12 Dec 2018 10:24:39 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/Nature-Writing My green fingers have typed a bestselling book about houseplants, founded an online plant publication and won a nature writing scholarship with the British Council.&nbsp; <img width="670" height="477" width_o="670" height_o="477" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8696bc819d4854cf3c115e6fd7b559ab5d20c1998443fc8279217086a1d02a9e/Da_BA0cXkAY3cn-_670.jpg" data-mid="30722684" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/670/i/8696bc819d4854cf3c115e6fd7b559ab5d20c1998443fc8279217086a1d02a9e/Da_BA0cXkAY3cn-_670.jpg" /> <img width="486" height="693" width_o="486" height_o="693" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9dba71bdf43e40c4dc3a4c5983bd8e425980fa754f8bb5f87b4973e7511ced2d/isbn9781473651128_486.jpg" data-mid="31141626" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/486/i/9dba71bdf43e40c4dc3a4c5983bd8e425980fa754f8bb5f87b4973e7511ced2d/isbn9781473651128_486.jpg" /> Extracts 1. The Nature of London - These are tales for anyone who lives beyond the bluebell woods, in paved fields with concrete skies. Where sleepers shield their eyes from bright nights, and yet never see the stars. Here the rat king roams and pot plants dream of tropical homes. Here grows the city’s nature, of a nature unknown..&nbsp; 2. The Fatberg - Under your house, under your bed, under your street, it lies. Lurking in the sewers. A man-made monster of congealed fat with used wet wipes, Tampons and nappies wedged in its crevices. A composting coral-like creature lying in the juice of a thousand bins. Or a massive melted mars bar, depending on your appetite. As we grow above, it grows below. Feeding off fats and oils poured down our drains. Sundays are its favourite day, all that gravy, oozing. Some people have tried making traps in their sink - pouring the fat into the bin instead of the monster's belly. But that won’t stop it. The loo is where it gets its goodies. ‘Send in the Flushers’ cried the council. The Flushers unblock the sewers. It’s a family business handed down through the generations. But no generation has ever seen this before. Larger than the Tower of London, longer than two Wembley Stadiums. Two. They couldn’t see the end. So they sent a camera instead. Somebody posted the footage online. The Internet gagged. The council gave the Flushers special suits, but they didn’t cover their noses. So they held their breath. And down they went. Looming out of the darkness, wet wipes peeped out, trapped like flies in the fats web. Strings of congealed oil falling down like stalactites, dripping. They hacked it with shovels and hosed it with jets. Fatty fatty Fatberg, Fatty fatty Fatberg, they cried. Three weeks later, they were still crying. 3. Extract from How Not to Kill Your Plants -&nbsp; Cactus: I like to think of myself as a cactus collector, hunting for different textures, colours, shapes and sizes - the wonkier the better. Despite their spiky exteriors, cacti are seriously laid back. The majority of cacti grow in the desert (desert cacti) with bright sunshine, high temperatures and dry air. There are some species that grow in rainforests (forest cacti) that need shade and humidity. A general rule of pricked thumb is that forest cacti can be recognised by their flat, trailing leaves, so when it comes to looking after your cacti, make sure you do your research. We’re concentrating on the desert variety, so sunscreen on, we’re going in. Back To The Roots: In the desert, cacti sometimes have to wait years for their next drink, so whatever you do - don’t over water. Most cacti are happy with a good drink every once in a while and never re-water until the compost is completely dry. My advice is to get to know your cactus: when cacti are watered their bodies swell and they become firmer to touch. Lift the plant to see how heavy it is - if the pot feels lighter than usual, top it up. They like well draining soil that keeps their roots dry so potting soil just ‘ain't gonna cut it. Opt for cacti soil instead. Give them as much sunshine as possible but watch direct sunlight in summer because the sun’s rays can magnify the glass and cook your cacti! They are happy with average heat in the day and cool nights. Deserts tend to be dry with low levels of humidity so lose the mister. 4. Words from Grace &amp; Thorn’s plant publication, THE CUT - founded by yours truely. Recommendations “Katie has wonderful imaginative flair and the ideas to pull it off...”&nbsp;~ Derek Niemann, Nature Writer https://katiesreadingroom.com/Grace-Thorn Wed, 12 Dec 2018 10:24:38 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/Grace-Thorn I ghostwrote this book for Nik Southern and we beat Alan Titchmarsh on Amazon, sorry Alan.&nbsp; <img width="486" height="693" width_o="486" height_o="693" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9dba71bdf43e40c4dc3a4c5983bd8e425980fa754f8bb5f87b4973e7511ced2d/isbn9781473651128_486.jpg" data-mid="30463622" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/486/i/9dba71bdf43e40c4dc3a4c5983bd8e425980fa754f8bb5f87b4973e7511ced2d/isbn9781473651128_486.jpg" /> Extracts 1. As more people cram into cities, space is becoming sacred. The houses we buy are smaller, landlords prevent us from personalising our properties, and owning a garden... who does? But we’re reclaiming the space around us as our own urban jungles. When I travel across London, I see nature tumbling over balconies, taking over windowsills and blocking up walkways. And within these walls, nature is taking over too. Greening up your gaff is an easy, inexpensive way to style our home, breathing life into it without having to do much at all. 2. Before we get started, let’s get one thing out in the open. Everyone kills plants. Me, probably Monty and most definitely your mate with green fingers. There I said it. My advice? Don’t be a fusspot. Did you know, one of the easiest ways to kill a plant is overwatering it? Watering can down! To keep your plant alive, we need to go back to the root of the problem. You have to understand where your plant has come from - where its roots are. Think about it this way: plants have evolved over thousands of years to adapt to specific conditions, be it succulents storing water in the dry desert or ferns needing less light under the damp canopy of the Amazonian rainforest. Sure you might not be able to put Tarzan up for the night, but your house already presents many microclimates which recreate these natural wonders of the world. From a hot south facing window sill, to the top of a kitchen cupboard that gets all the steam from your kettle, you just have to think a little differently about your space. And the same goes for what you give your plant. If it only rains twice a year in the desert, does your cacti want all that water? Or if a fern has evolved on the forest floor, why is it scorching on your unshaded windowsill?&nbsp; Once you understand these principles, may you all live happily ever after. 3. Psst! Take a leaf out of other people’s plants... Ok, not literally, but looking at where other people keep plants happy is a shortcut to success. Is there a Chinese restaurant on your street with a big happy jade in the window? Or when you peer into your neighbour's front room (we all do), do you spy a healthy fiddle fig? Does the balcony three floors down bloom with bamboo or is the girl with the desk opposite you smuggle watering her cacti collection? If these people can grow these plants in those places - so can you. Reviews “Well writren. Funny and informative.”“It is a truly fantastic read from start to finish. Full of useful guidance and tips to make the most of plants, flowers and nature in general.”&nbsp; “Not only is this book beautiful to look at it's also genuinely useful.” https://katiesreadingroom.com/Copywriting Wed, 12 Dec 2018 10:24:39 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/Copywriting I help brands find their personality and use words to bring them to life. Mostly at W+K, now on my own two feet.&nbsp; Meta 🌟 Uber 🌟 NotCo 🌟 Chambord 🌟 IKEA 🌟 Tommee Tippee 🌟 Accor 🌟 Nike 🌟 Google 🌟 Lurpak 🌟 Unilever 🌟 Honda 🌟 Three 🌟 Orange 🌟 Prada 🌟 You can peep at more of my creative work here&nbsp;<img width="155" height="150" width_o="155" height_o="150" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/017377ebfd2e23e30ed74c1dbfde00cfaa9985b85a34458d741a1d3839c2b1d4/eye2.gif" data-mid="33409131" border="0" data-scale="7" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/155/i/017377ebfd2e23e30ed74c1dbfde00cfaa9985b85a34458d741a1d3839c2b1d4/eye2.gif" /> &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; Notes &amp; Extracts I updated IKEA Family’s tone of voice for over 100 million members in 26 countries. Want to know more? Say ‘Hi’ to a member of staff, and let’s get you settled in. I defined the voice of new normal milk. You can slurp NotMilk, enjoy my words, and protect the planet. All at the same time. You’re welcome. I helped Uber launch in Australia, inspiring drivers to follow their dreams. Whatever drives you, drive with Uber. I helped MSquared rewrite the rules of reality. How? By articulating Improbable’s vision of a truly interconnected metaverse, powered by their own technology, MSquared. I brought More People together with Facebook. Connecting Communities over shared interests and experiences, all through Facebook Groups. I started a global carbon movement with Puro.Earth.&nbsp;The client had a groundbreaking idea that needed rapid visibility with clear messaging and an attention-grabbing brand. On it! I wrote the social copy for everyone’s favourite pink drink. Why? Because no reason. Hungover? I can fix that. Meet Ohayo. Drink before bed, wake up, feel good. Let tomorrow say thank you. Kampai! &nbsp; Oh, and I can write a pitch-winning manifesto, or two... Just ask. Recommendations&nbsp;&nbsp; “Katie is a force of creative nature, who I had the pleasure of working with (for many years) at Wieden + Kennedy. If you want a creative leader, conceptual thinker / doer / activist then look no further” ~&nbsp; Sam Brookes “It was a pleasure to work with Katie at W+K. She is a creative thinker who understands digital and interactive work inside out. I'm proud to have worked with her. If you ever get a chance to hire her, don't hesitate.” ~ Roo Reynolds https://katiesreadingroom.com/CSM Fri, 14 Dec 2018 12:15:15 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/CSM I am a lecturer on Narrative &amp; Voice at Central Saint Martins, London.&nbsp; Extracts <img width="1753" height="1240" width_o="1753" height_o="1240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f8cf29a5e504f9c69f14a770505ca0115609c3669a47c534a5a81e4b44ad7b66/How-now-to-suck-on-the-internet_CSM.jpg" data-mid="30622566" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f8cf29a5e504f9c69f14a770505ca0115609c3669a47c534a5a81e4b44ad7b66/How-now-to-suck-on-the-internet_CSM.jpg" /> <img width="1753" height="1240" width_o="1753" height_o="1240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b7b472dd257b227a3fc60ae7b56e7e0d1d95ee8b146fc234ad4c919c35283775/How-now-to-suck-on-the-internet_CSM2.jpg" data-mid="30622565" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b7b472dd257b227a3fc60ae7b56e7e0d1d95ee8b146fc234ad4c919c35283775/How-now-to-suck-on-the-internet_CSM2.jpg" /><img width="1753" height="1240" width_o="1753" height_o="1240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c352f197e2fa3aae3752da5d604d9c38784173ac007ece73a8abe497a060fe33/4.jpg" data-mid="30622563" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c352f197e2fa3aae3752da5d604d9c38784173ac007ece73a8abe497a060fe33/4.jpg" /><img width="1753" height="1240" width_o="1753" height_o="1240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0adea90bee8d45f029c873580610ab4d5203e0709ce01859af2811adbaac98b9/7.jpg" data-mid="30622576" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0adea90bee8d45f029c873580610ab4d5203e0709ce01859af2811adbaac98b9/7.jpg" /><img width="1753" height="1240" width_o="1753" height_o="1240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d38ce5f7abf7a3605bfc40cdb06c5b99b6eeb86ca9579c360bb5661ab8c97f4b/3.jpg" data-mid="30622564" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d38ce5f7abf7a3605bfc40cdb06c5b99b6eeb86ca9579c360bb5661ab8c97f4b/3.jpg" /> https://katiesreadingroom.com/Playwriting Fri, 14 Dec 2018 12:01:44 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/Playwriting Good things coming to your ears in 2024... https://katiesreadingroom.com/Short-Stories Fri, 14 Dec 2018 11:54:28 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/Short-Stories My short stories have been published by Open Pen, Mycelia and Shooter. My next collection, Nature Rules, OK? Is out in 2020.&nbsp;Extracts 1. Scroll ~ Published by Shooter The first time I saw her, I was sitting on the top deck of the number 19 bus. The journey had been like any other. I sat there, staring at the sunrise, a cat, another cat, a workout class where none of the women were sweating, another sunrise, another sunrise and there she was, smiling at me in a swimsuit. I don’t know why I stayed with her. It was her expression. Inviting. Or it was her hair. Blowing. Slightly. I tapped the screen to go to her profile. @oluceps. Who? Maybe I’d met her at a party. Maybe I just followed her because Laura did and Laura always follows girls from places like L.A. that live these beautiful, thin, effortless lives. Yep. That seemed right. I tapped back and scrolled on. More cats, abstract tree, selfie, selfie, selfie, Ed and his new girlfriend. Yuck. Unfollow. More girls working out. Still not sweating. Cat in a pram? And there she was again. Staring at me. This time she was in a coffee shop. Limp palm leaves waved over white tiled walls. A blackboard spouted ambiguous coffees. I recognised it. From somewhere. And there she was, just staring at the camera. But this time her eyes were searching. Looking for something. She looked uncomfortable. Actually, she looked awkward. Maybe it’s a new thing I thought, the #awkwardselfie. I got distracted as I Google searched, how to take #awkwardselfie? only to be jolted back to where I was as the bus halted in traffic outside Piccadilly. I looked up. And I looked out of the window at the bright flashing lights. Coke. Coke. Coke. Coke. Coke. God I’d love a Diet Coke right now. I looked down at my phone to check the time and found myself seamlessly scrolling, grumpy cat, cat in a hat, man being attacked by cat, funny joke by @thefatjewish, Kayne doing things, sunrise, sunrise, sunrise. And there she was. Sat on a long blue couch. It reminded me of something I’d Pinned on my Dream Home Board. I looked at the untouched copies of lifestyle magazines neatly placed beside her, the soft grey cat laid across her lap. And then I looked at her. Really looked at her. Her eyes were blank. Bored. Instinctively, I lifted my thumb to double tap the image, when the cat jumped off her lap and scattered off. Nothing else moved. I waited for it to loop round and the soft grey cat to reappear. I waited. I tapped the screen. I waited. Some glitch. Bloody phone. I scrolled on through landscapes and seas and birthday parties and holidays and cats and cats and there she was. This time she was sitting at a table. It was a dinner, or a party. It looked quite perfect. White linen strewn over distressed wood with pink peonies gracefully bowing to plates of chanterelles. I looked around the table to see who she was with, but they were blurred or with their backs to me. Hers was the only face I could see. And she was on her phone? She was on her phone. At dinner. God. Why was no one talking to her? She moved again. The picture moved again. Ooh, this was one of those things Laura told me about, some art thing where something moves but everything else stays still. I watched. The light from her phone illuminated her thumb. It was lapping the screen and she was in the fast lane. Up and back and up and back and up and then I saw her. A girl on a bus. And back. Up and back. Up and I waited for the video to loop. I waited. I waited. I scrolled. I restarted. I watched. Nothing. She was just sat at the table. On her phone. Again, I clicked on her profile. Everything I’d seen was there. This beautiful, effortless life. So familiar. But as I scrolled through her pictures all I could see was how lonely she was. Even around people she was alone. Furiously I scrolled and scrolled, looking for some clues to who she was. But the places. So familiar. I couldn’t pinpoint them. A place that looked like any other. She was everywhere and nowhere. “Excuse me,” The lady next to me indicated that she needed to get off. I grabbed my bags, hurriedly. Dropping my phone into my pocket. I sat back down. Quickly. And pulled it out again to find her. I tapped. Opened. Scrolled. Searched. Scrolled. Restarted. Nothing. I could not find her. I thought about the girl often. When I ordered ambiguous coffees in white tiled coffee shops. At night, when I lay in my apartment listening to my cat scratching at my new vintage couch. And when I sat with my friends over a linen strewn dinner table - oh wait that’s my phone - sorry - what? Oh yes. And when I sat with my friends over a linen-strewn dinner table. There she was.&nbsp;2. SPARKLE SLOTH ~ Published by Shooter Will was sat on the loo playing Sparkle Sloth on his phone. In fact, Will had been sat on the loo for fifteen minutes playing Sparkle Sloth on his phone. He didn’t really have any reason to care about being late for his clients. Because he didn’t really care. People spent a long time in the loo. It was none of their business anyway. Not even when he had excused himself, left his editing desk and taken his rucksack with him. No one questioned if he was going home. They were too busy on their phones to notice. Sparkle my little sloth. Sparkle. He said to himself. In the loo. This was the latest game to top the App Store and the World was playing it. Mums had forgotten to pick up their kids from school. Kim Kardashian had already tweeted her highest score. Andrew Marr was a fan. The rules were simple. Don’t wake the sloth. The sparkle part was the noise the sloth made when he snored. Winkle-tinkle- tinkle-t ing. Winkle-tinkle- tinkle-t ing. Winkle-tinkle- tinkle-t ing. Winkle-tinkle- tinkle-t ing. He snores. You watch. After the Sloth has had enough sleep, you move up to the next level, where he sleeps again. It took great skill to play. Patience. Waiting. Not doing. There were high scores. And higher scores. In fact, no one had reached the highest score. That was the aim, you see. Every one's aim. There was a knock at the bathroom door. “I’m off now, Will. The guys are still in the edit suite”, “OK, thanks” he shouted back. “I’ll be a minute”. But he wasn’t a minute, Ten, twenty went by. Winkle-tinkle- tinkle-t ing. Winkle-tinkle- tinkle-t ing. One hour. Winkle-t inkle-tinkle-t ing. T wo hours.Winkle- tinF UCK. His phone died. FUCK FUCK FUCK. For the first time in two hours, he looked up. And he looked in the mirror hanging opposite him. God he looked tired. Yellow. Older. FUCK. It’s time to go home, he thought. It’s time, for once, to go home on time. He went to stand up, but he couldn’t move. His legs wouldn’t move. He couldn’t feel anything. FUCK. He started to slap them. FUCK. Nothing. Panicking now, he tried to roll forward. To roll his whole body forward. FUCK. Nothing. He was stuck. He was stuck on the loo. “I’m stuck on the fucking loo”, he thought. He thought about other things too. About his job. The job which meant so little. The job that gave his so little time to spend with the people he cared for. He cared for Sarah. Sarah who would leave real food for him when he got home, although he always ate whatever over-priced-over-salted-crap the clients had. Because it was there. Because they paid and he was broke. Too broke to buy a house. A house that he wanted to live with Sarah in one day. One day when he might have time. Time to talk to Sarah about having a house. A house with two bedrooms. Bedrooms with beds. Beds they could sleep in. Sleep together in. Sleep together instead of just lying next to each other. The other on the phone. On the phone playing Sparkle Sloth. Sparkle my little Sloth. Sparkle. Winkle. Tinkle. Winkle. Tin... They found him in the morning. Sat on the loo. Trousers around his ankles. What peace, they thought, as they watched him, eyes closed, winkle-tinkle-tinkling. 3. PLEASE SHOWER BEFORE ENTERING THE POOL ~ Published by OpenPen I’m going to tell you a secret, I pee in the public showers at the swimming pool. It all started when I attempted butterfly stroke and swallowed half the slow lane. In the showers, I stood under the running water and an uncontrollable urge came over me. It just shot out. Fast. Warm. Wobbly. Across the steam, I looked at the other swimmers busy squinting for their miniature shampoos. The trickle down my leg got stronger. It quickly becomes a habit. I’d lather with the strongest smelling soap I could find and watch the yellow stained foam flow past abandoned conditioners and down into the hair clogged drains. I’d hold conversations with other swimmers, locking my eyes with theirs as my toes giggled. One day, I am at the pool. In the shower. In the middle of a gloriously large release when “excuse me”. I freeze. Clench. My shower stops. We both dribble. “I’m awfully sorry but could I borrow some shampoo?” asks a man in incredibly tight red trunks. “Of course,” I say as I pass him my miniature bottle. We strike up conversation. I push the tap again, stand with my back to the slippery tiles and let go. He waves to me from the fast lane. I swim on my back, floating my breasts above the surface. We rest at the end of the lane for casual chats about the weather and laugh at the sleeping lifeguards. Sometimes he comes into the slow lane and we float together. Weightless. Side by side. Like manatees. Three weeks after we first met, he invites me to dinner. We meet outside the pool and see each other in clothes for the first time. His shirt matches his trunks. We laugh about the lifeguards. The restaurant is steady. Hard lighting strikes the sharp corners. I feel giddy on solid ground and reach out for his arm. He takes mine. Wine flows. Food pours. We both choose lamb. He orders extra asparagus. I drink too much. The colours splash on our plates. We eat. We drink. We flip our feet together under the table. Outside the restaurant, he plants a slippery wet kiss on my cheek. We arrange to meet the next morning underwater. I float home. I arrive at the pool to find he has already entered. As I walk in I see him powering up and down the fast lane. Every third stroke his face surfaces and I try to catch his gaze. He does not acknowledge me. I wait till he reaches the end of the lane but he flips himself over and swims on. I slip my body into the water and escape under its pearly surface. As I glide forward, the hangover clinging to my back slips off and falls away. I close my eyes. Last night drifts into the distance. I come back up and see two eyes twinkling at me through steamy goggles. We float together until it is time to get out. We head to the showers. I always arrive at the pool wearing my swimsuit under my clothes, but in my giddy getting ready, I realise I have forgotten to pack both my shampoo and my pants. He suggests I borrow some. I notice a clump of hair stuck to the tiles. Pushing the tap the hot water runs it away. “I had fun last night” he whispers through the running water. His expression is so joyful that I quiver. We are lost in the moment. But as he holds my gaze, a salty sulphuric smell slowly fogs my nostrils. I am reminded of asparagus. I look down to see a yellow trickle flow down his right leg into the hair clogged drain. I can hear his toes giggling. https://katiesreadingroom.com/About Wed, 12 Dec 2018 06:58:30 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/About Welcome to Katie’s Reading Room I am a 33-year-old writer living and swimming in Scotland. As the daughter of an animator (the little boy in The Snowman is named after my dad), I grew up knowing I wanted to tell stories. After graduating from Central Saint Martins in 2008, I found myself at the doors of Wieden + Kennedy and side-stepped into the weird and wonderful world of advertising. With the rather vague job title of ‘creative’, I discovered my love for storytelling with words and it was here my journey as a writer began. Within the shiny walls of creative agencies, I wrote stories for Uber drivers in Australia and Chambord swigging French women. The opportunity to explore different voices and stories influenced my writing as I experimented in print, screen and technology. In 2016, I was offered the chance to ghostwrite a book about houseplants after a client discovered my grandfather was a world-expert on weeds. 60,000 words later, we beat Alan Titmarsh on Amazon ratings (sorry Alan). In 2017, I received the British Council’s nature writing scholarship and became aware of how underrepresented young, contemporary female voices were within this creative form. My green fingers crafted stories where nature prevailed – recognising, challenging and supporting its place in the modern world. I often commute to London where I freelance at creative agencies to make the money that gives me the freedom to write. As a copywriter, I work with words every day, usually trying to squish them to be as few as possible. Recently, I have been working at Facebook helping them tell the stories that matter. I believe my background in advertising alongside a natural curiosity for our planet gives my writing purpose. I understand the importance of defining your audience and creating work that is not only relevant but useful in their lives. Just as The Snowman makes us cry every Christmas, I too want to create stories that will make you feel something. Moved? Say hi, katieanneharrison@gmail.com Publications ~ Dead Man Floating, Mycelia, 2019Please Shower Before Entering The Pool Open Pen, 2018How Not To Kill Your Plants, Hodder, 2017Look Up, It’s Me, Shooter, 2016Study ~ Writing for Radio, NFTS, 2018 Creatve Writing, The Writer’s Room, Sydney, 2017Short Story Writing, Faber, 2016Short Story Writing, Bishopsgate, 2015 Lecturing ~ Central Saint Martins, 2015 - Present Edinburgh College of Art. 2019 - PresentBerghs School of Communication, 2016UCA Epsom, 2016 Readings ~ Berlin, April 2019Scholarships ~ British Council, 2018British Council, 2019 &nbsp; <img width="155" height="150" width_o="155" height_o="150" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/017377ebfd2e23e30ed74c1dbfde00cfaa9985b85a34458d741a1d3839c2b1d4/eye2.gif" data-mid="33409028" border="0" data-scale="19" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/155/i/017377ebfd2e23e30ed74c1dbfde00cfaa9985b85a34458d741a1d3839c2b1d4/eye2.gif" /> Psst! You can spy on my creative work here https://katiesreadingroom.com/Index-Dark Wed, 12 Dec 2018 10:24:41 +0000 Katie's Reading Room https://katiesreadingroom.com/Index-Dark