Vintage writing tools including old-fashioned typewriter, ink bottles, quill pens, and dip pens arranged on an ornate decorative background.

Start Here

The Inkwave Club is a small literary salon where stories are told, writing craft is explored, and curious readers gather around the table.

If this is your first visit, allow me to show you the three rooms where the conversation happens.

Every respectable club has its rooms. Allow me to introduce ours.

You may notice a small white bull terrier wandering about the club rooms. That is Garth. He reads widely, writes diligently, and never refuses a good skewer.

Choose Your Door

In the entrance hall of the Club there are three doors.
One leads to the Library, where stories line the shelves.
One leads to the Writing Desk, where craft is quietly discussed.
And one leads to the Club Table, where conversation flows late into the evening.
Choose the door that calls to you.

Illustration of a dog wearing glasses reading a book.

The Reader

Prefer stories? Begin in the Library, where flash fiction, drabbles, and literary experiments await.

Enter The Library

Illustration of a dog with glasses writing at a desk, with an ink bottle nearby.

The Writer

Interested in storytelling craft? Visit the Writing Desk, where techniques and creative tools are explored.

Visit The Writing Desk

An illustrated dog wearing glasses with a sketched city cafe background, sitting at a table with a glass of wine, a plate of olives, and a sketched building with windows and shutters in the background.

The Connoiser

Enjoy reflections on books, culture, and food? Pull up a chair at the Club Table.

Pull Up A Chair

Step Inside the Club

Now that you've chosen your door, let me show you a little more of what each room contains.

From The Library

Here you’ll find a collection of short fiction—drabbles and distilled narratives where every word is chosen with care. Small moments. Lasting echoes.

A realistic painting of a turtle with a Monarch butterfly on its shell, surrounded by grass and trees, with ants on the ground nearby.

Because He Could Not Hurry

Each morning, Hobbes the tortoise clambered onto his favourite sunrock—a task requiring forty-seven deliberate steps and one minor nap…

A young boy wearing a navy baseball cap with a yellow butterfly on top, holding a baseball bat over his shoulder, dressed in a sweater with a checkered pattern and a turtleneck, against a dark background.

The Butterfly Effect

The butterfly stopped in midair. It was not from weariness, nor from fear of the bird that had passed a moment before, but from Thought—a most un-Butterfly-like occupation…

Browse the Library

A fantasy illustration of a garden gnome with a red hat digging in the ground with a small shovel, looking at a large green ceramic woman-shaped vase with a face and flowing hair, surrounded by garden tools and pink flowers, with trees and sunset in the background.

Origin of the Species

He had to stop himself staring at her beauty—this vision of a plant pot, curved like a goddess and glazed in palest jade. One handle swept upward like a sculpted arm…

From The Writing Desk

Thoughtful writing tools and literary reflections for creative minds — exploring structure, precision, and the art beneath the page.

Young woman with short blonde curly hair reading a book outdoors in a park, wearing a sleeveless striped top.

Marilyn Monroe kept a copy of Ulysses in her car.

According to her friend and photographer Eve Arnold, Marilyn said she loved the sound of it, reading it aloud to herself to try to make sense of it. She admitted it was ‘hard going’ but kept at it anyway…

Four men wearing dark suits and hats sitting at a cafe table with empty cups, looking serious and contemplative.

How to Write Cracking Dialogue

Ah, dialogue—that slippery fish in the writer’s net. Everyone thinks they can catch it. Everyone tries. But done wrong, it flops. Done right, it sings, slaps, stings, seduces.

Start With What They Don’t Say…

From the Club Table

Here, stories gather around food and culture — in kitchens, at long tables, and in the quiet rituals of everyday life.

Seafood stew with shrimp, clams, and vegetables in a red broth served in a white bowl.

Truman Capote’s Favorite Spanish Dish

I’ve often imagined what it would be like to be Truman Capote in the early ’60s, swapping the whirlwind of New York’s glitterati for the quiet sun-drenched shores of Spain’s Costa Brava…

An apple sitting on top of an ice cream cone, with two book covers for books about food and diet beside it.

Blood Is Thicker Than Ice Cream

There was no ice cream in the freezer; there never was anymore. Once, our name on countless tubs signified a sweet dynasty, but I had forsaken that legacy when Uncle Burt’s untimely death left me cold to the empire built on unhealthy scoops…