Tim X Atack

@timatack.bsky.social

830 Followers 1259 Following

writer | composer | stuff | Bristol UK | campsite.bio/txa FATHER ALBERTO AND THE FLYING GIRL Chatto & Windus June 26 / FOREST 404 on BBC Sounds / Bruntwood Prize Winner / Stories about love, ghosts, belonging and not, getting things wrong, and hope

A hand holding up a copy of Father Alberto and the Flying Girl, by Timothy X Atack (a hardback book with a blue and red cover, showing a block-print style image of two grey churches and a hybrid flower in arterial blood red.)
A screengrab from The Bookseller Website, with the headline "Chatto & Windus buys Timothy X Atack's debut novel that 'explores the treatment of madness'" above a vaguely smiling picture of Tim X Atack (a bald and ginger-bearded white man in his 50s.)
A card that reads CAST ANNOUNCEMENT for DELAY at Bristol Old Vic. Jyuddah James face is in profile, looking downward, against an image of a purple and pink nebula.
Foreground, a tablet with text, author's POV. Background: the nave of Durham cathedral, with renovation work on a scaffold in front of the quire.
A white baby grand piano in a roadside cafe in Sri Lanka – on top of which is a printed sign saying 'Refrain from playing the piano'.
A screengrab of a song lyric, which reads: He’s making a list He’s using AI He already knows what presents you’ll buy Santa Claus is hacking your phone He’s rigging your polls With anchoring prompts He’s selling his list to policy wonks Santa Claus is milking your stats He’s scraping all your data He knows when you’re awake He knows what social band you’re in And what helps you masturbate (ho-ho-ho) 
Been gathering dirt Since you were a kid He knows all the nasty shit that you did Santa Claus is Biding his time He’s checked your credit rating He’ll block you if you’re broke He knows if you are naughty And he knows if you are woke So You better not browse You better not swipe You better not tag or follow or like
Santa Claus is tracking every second of your online behaviour for lucrative commercial and/or socio-political opportunities on behalf of his extensive and strictly confidential client base
Screengrab of a short excerpt of a screenplay. It reads: INT. DOUBLE DECKER, TOP FLOOR - DAY GALA is staring out at the grey old city. She sighs, deep -- picks up her phone and taps it. INTERCUT WITH: EXT. CITY STREET - DAY A besuited UMESH is on his way to work. He answers his phone. UMESH Can’t talk long I’m almost in hell. GALA Yeh, same. OK I was thinking we (screengrab ends)