Rachel Robbins
Bio
Writer-Performer based in the North of England. A joyous, flawed mess.
Please read my stories and enjoy. And if you can, please leave a tip. Money raised will be used towards funding a one-woman story-telling, comedy show.
Stories (162)
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Day Dreaming is Writing
I got my best piece of writing advice long after I had my first writing published. What? You’ve never heard of me? Well, that must mean that you’re not a social work academic with a special interest in UK-based domestic abuse research. Otherwise, well, I was quite the medium-sized deal.
By Rachel Robbins3 years ago in Journal
Men write about Women
He had a guitar in his room. He had a notebook and stray bits of paper on his bed. He had a button fly and his hair in quiff. All warning signs that he was a sensitive soul who wrote his own lyrics. The next day there was a stray piece of paper in tight handwriting pushed under her door; folded in two and labelled For You.
By Rachel Robbins4 years ago in Viva
Why I am not over #PartyGate
For international readers – some context. #Partygate has been trending in the UK for months now, as drip by drip we are learning of the extent of how our government leaders partied their way through lockdown. They made laws which they broke. They made laws which we were told we needed to follow to keep ourselves and others safe. They broke those laws, whilst others were isolated, fined and well-organised, safe protests were heavily policed. They broke those laws by partying.
By Rachel Robbins4 years ago in Families
I didn't want to write this post. Top Story - March 2022.
I didn’t want to write this post, because I have a story I want to write about a middle-aged woman who … blah, blah, blah. I’m not going to give away plot points here. I also want to write some new jokes for my stand up. And I don’t want to write any jokes about violence against women, whether it is verbal, physical or institutional.
By Rachel Robbins4 years ago in Viva
Not That Bad
The first time I ran a focus group for survivors of domestic abuse, I remember one young woman, her baby in her arms, saying, “I’ve not had it that bad. Some of the women here have been really badly treated.” There was a pause. “I mean, I’ve been in hospital twice, but it’s not been that bad.”
By Rachel Robbins4 years ago in Viva
The Portrait of Aphra Luscombe
In the maelstrom of assessment and diagnosis all Lois could find was loss. High functioning autism. Those words felt more pointed than expected and for Lois, they signalled her failure as a parent – the clues she had missed, how much she had misunderstood her own daughter, the torment she might have inadvertently caused her. Treasured memories were tortured by this new information. Aphra had spoken early. She had an enviable vocabulary. But Aphra had never been able to communicate what she was really feeling, her confusion, her fear at not doing the right thing, her panic at making a mistake, her need not to be laughed at. And now as a teenager she was beyond the usual sullen. She appeared almost unreachable.
By Rachel Robbins5 years ago in Families
