Mark Piggott is the author of two novels, “Out of Office” and “Fire Horses”, published by Legend Press, London. Magazines to have published his short stories and creative non-fiction include Aesthetica, Prole Books, Pulp Books and 3:AM.
Now a staff reporter for the IB Times he’s had major features in the Times, Guardian, Independent, Mail, Express, Sunday Express, Telegraph, Observer and more. He has appeared on TV and radio and lectures in creative writing and journalism. Read his "Suffolkating" column at the Huffington Post.
|Posted on August 20, 2014 at 9:50 AM|
“Times goes at a different rate in the country. It seems only yesterday that we drove out beyond the M25, and the cat pooped on my lap, and we began our new life in a house of flies and dirt and no door-handles. It was actually ten months ago. Ten months driving to and from stations, sitting on trains, working at the IB Times, writing my book ("Kidology" - thanks for asking), reading other people's books, trying to convince the kids we could make it work in t...Read Full Post »
|Posted on August 11, 2014 at 8:05 AM|
It's been a struggle, but last Thursday I finally handed in my new novel, #Kidology (hashtag: negotiable). Writing on trains (sometimes standing up on the Cambridge - Liverpool Street commute); late nights and early starts; writing even as the kids broke up from school and we started to pack ahead of our move back to London. Kidology: a scatological satire on modern manners, parenting, and class. Just hope my agent likes it.
Read Full Post »
|Posted on June 25, 2014 at 11:45 AM|
After the “Rabbit” books – my favourite gang of bound pages - reading Updike’s “Couples” has been a disappointment. The characters intermingle; none of them are pleasant; they are all obsessed with ageing and fucking and don’t seem to feel anything. Nor did I. For the first time I understood Martin Amis’s phrase, “suspiciously frictionless” – it’s all so smooth and lovely and easy, there is nev...Read Full Post »
|Posted on May 5, 2014 at 12:25 PM|
So there I am in the car, exhausted, driving the 25 miles to Cambridge for an early train to Hitchin for the replacement bus to Welwyn, knowing that after the long, ghastly trip to London I’ll work 9 hours then face the same trip home, hoping our move back to the smoke goes smoothly, yawning, holding the wheel to stay awake, wondering if I have time to take a detour via the garage for a coffee, and then...Read Full Post »
|Posted on April 18, 2014 at 1:25 PM|
What a week: what weeks... Working at the IB Times so much now (even today, albeit from home) there seems little point in providing a round-up of 32nd floor shenanigans, so if you want to see what I've been working on TAKE A LOOK HERE.
I'm spending so much time (and money) on trains that I'm finally catching up on some reading. In recent weeks I've...Read Full Post »
|Posted on April 11, 2014 at 4:55 AM|
For the last few months I’ve been a reporter at the IB Times, which from its London HQ on the 32nd floor seems to be going from strength to strength. Now the IB Times has purchased Newsweek and wants to publish longer, more in-depth features on issues of the day, so I was delighted to be asked to write an investigation into the thorny issue of sectarianism in Scotland ahead of the referendum on 18 September. Here’s the ...Read Full Post »
|Posted on March 25, 2014 at 11:40 AM|
|Posted on March 19, 2014 at 12:55 PM|
"Ever met a nice Scotsman? Me neither. I mean Armando Iannucci, Lou Macari and Wattie out of Exploited (get well soon) seem okay, though I wouldn't want to live next door to any of them, but the rest? Buckfast-slurping, sheep-stomach-scoffing, heart-attack-having, currency-stealing cry-babies.
I jest, of course. I wouldn't mind having Armando, Lou, Wattie or indeed most other Scots folk living next door. In fact - that'...Read Full Post »
|Posted on March 17, 2014 at 8:25 PM|
|Posted on March 10, 2014 at 9:55 AM|
"As Christmas approaches all I seem to do is shuttle between house and station in the dark, rain, sleet and dead badgers on the windscreen, huddling in the cold at Newmarket station (the most foul, loathsome train station in the multiverse) or if there are no trains drive to Cambridge for the early London shuttle. I never even see the green fields and woodlands around our new home, let alone visit any country pubs. I never have time to even s...Read Full Post »