Katherine Hayton | Crime. Murder. Death. My Pleasure.
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NEW RELEASES FOR JULY & AUGUST 2017

 

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  • 24 May 2017
    Making a friend

    Back in the old days when I smoked, I used to tear off the end of the cigarettes in order to get my full-scale nicotine hit faster. It was no use dragging in a breath when they were full-length – the smoke would dissipate to almost nothing by the time it reached my lips.   Although, every time I was asked, I laboriously pointed out the perfectly acceptable explanation for me doing so, people around me (usually also smoking) still used to give me funny looks. Of course, I could have fallen into step and smoked the damn things whole, but I’m stubborn and I would also m

  • 09 May 2017
    A plea to my body to do something fun

    Today my left elbow started to send shooting pains up toward my wrist, followed shortly afterward by numbness and tingling. I shook it back to life, got back to work, then half an hour later it did the same thing again.   This got me to thinking, partly because I’ve got a word count to reach today, so obviously I follow up any possible excuse for procrastination, but also because it seems there was a tipping point back in my early thirties when my body turned on me.   I’m not saying that up until that point, everything was plain sailing. There were headaches, ha

  • 26 Apr 2017
    Treadmill of Death

    For the last few months, I’ve been writing like a demon as part of the Phoenix Prime group to put together a body of work to pummel PhD students into submission with. In many ways this is working, in sheer volume if not in sales volume, but it’s meant that for a very long time my arse has been in contact with my couch.   Back when I had a day job (oh, regular paycheque, I miss you so) I may not have been the fittest member of the office but I did have to walk farther to my work than five metres down the hall. During the day, the copious volume of things I printed did

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