As a reader one of my favourite feelings is seeing a cherished author’s name in the New Release section of my local bookstore. At times though, my excitement of spotting a new offering has quickly turned to disappointment when I discovered the shiny new book is a collection of short stories. I have often left the store despondent before my conscience gnawed at me and I was sufficiently guilted into purchasing the book. After all, how could I have claim the complete collection of Jeffrey Deaver or John Grisham works if I shunned their short stories?

The exception to this is Maeve Binchy. I relish her novels and short stories. The stories seem to effortlessly weave you into the lives of the interconnected characters. Once you open the cover you could be sitting at a kitchen table in Chestnut Street enjoying a strong cuppa or debating the changing morals of the younger Dubliners with an old friend.

I am not sure if it is maturity or a sense of loyalty to my authors; perhaps it is a time poor attention span, but something in me has shifted. I now find myself looking forward to those short story collections.

As a writer I have discovered that writing short stories is more challenging than it looks and surprisingly fun. Below are a couple of my early effort short stories. I will be reworking these and look forward to hearing feedback on the original and improved versions.