linda brownlee

SO DID I EVER TELL YOU ABOUT THE WEIRDEST FUCKING DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE..?

It was a summer night about two years ago. I was at a party when I got a phone call from Michael Freeman, the editor of Mongrel, asking if I could possibly be in Dublin airport by 4am. The details were vague and I’d probably had a bit to drink. But the gist of it seemed to be that one of our writers had been forced to drop out of a story at the last moment and that they needed me to go in his place. The story had something to do with dolls, that was as much as I know. Read the rest of this entry »