This is my last post of 2018 and it’s been some year. My first book The First Sunday in September was published in August by The Mercier Press.
I’ve been busy, finishing the editing process for the book and reading and writing as much as I could. Thanks to everyone who supported me, I’m so grateful.
Thanks to everyone who read my blog over the year and special thanks to those who took the time to follow, like and comment on the posts. Not to mention those who bought my book and read it. Some who read it were even good enough to contact me with kind words. You have no idea how much that means.
Onward and upwards to 2019. I’ve a draft of a crime novel on the go and I’m now working on a book of essays on sport. The next few months will see a lot of progress on that, I hope. Continue reading “2018 Interviews and Articles about The First Sunday in September”
I’ve been neglecting my blog lately.
Instead, I’ve been finishing off a crime novel. Honestly.
I’ve also been writing some book reviews and sport-related pieces for The Irish Examiner.
Here’s the proof (I haven’t been slacking), in reverse chronological order. Continue reading “Some Articles and Reviews in The Irish Examiner”
A chairde, welcome to the August 24th, 2018 meeting of the Committee. The Rúnaí can’t be here tonight, he’s asked me to deputise on his behalf.
First item on the agenda. The PRO wants to pass on the following information, though the chair:
Tadhg Coakley’s novel in stories, The First Sunday in September, was shortlisted for the Mercier Press Fiction Prize, 2017 and was published by Mercier Press in August 2018. It tells the story of a fictional All-Ireland Hurling Final Sunday, from the points of view of several recurring characters, exploring recurring themes. Continue reading “Fógra: A Message from the PRO … or … Publicity for The First Sunday in September”
All of the 71,000 souls who took the pilgrim path to Croke Park yesterday to live the moment in Limerick’s exquisite win over Cork experienced a scatter of emotions. Not just those who travelled, either – but hundreds of thousands of others who watched or listened in. Here are some of mine before the game.
A sense of intention, of purpose, when I wake in the holiday home five minutes before 6am. Up and at ‘em. Here we go, here we go, here we go, and all that. Mount Brandon is stretching itself up into clouds, as it usually does. The gate leaves a creaky grumble when I free the latch. The water on Smerwick Harbour is a slate grey, waves flecking the surface. Continue reading “What I Feel when I’m on The Pilgrim Path to Croke Park”
So, anyway, I wrote this book. I got down off the ditch and into the game. Great view from the ditch, you can hold forth in high judgement and you can hide there, in the crowd. Not easy being inside the white lines, against tough opposition, making a show of yourself with everybody looking at you. Nowhere to hide. But I did it, anyway. Continue reading “To Win Just Once – The Game Is On”
Sport is about emotion. I’ve said this before. Other things too, but mostly emotion. And sometimes the emotions aren’t good but we seek them out anyway. We make ourselves vulnerable to them, we put ourselves out there. We let ourselves be open and exposed. Not a common stance for men. We stick our unprotected heads above the parapet in the full knowledge we could get our blocks knocked off. Continue reading “Admiration, Wonder, Joy.”
Walking Through Georgetown
Georgetown, a university area of Washington DC, had that understated style and nothing-to-prove confidence about itself. Houses looked modest enough in size but seemed really stylish inside with soft light and muted graceful décor. Continue reading “Walking Through Georgetown & In The National Gallery of the USA”