Writer
Tomos O’Sullivan’s first and most abiding ambition was to run away with the circus. Impressionable and restless, he was seduced by the lights and the music, the showmanship, the fleeting celebrity and the gypsy boys with their wild eyes. Born from Welsh and Irish stock and raised in the savage majesty of Cornwall, England, he inherited an innate love of mythology, nature and storytelling (and later, a dark tavern and a few too many drinks.) Adolescence would find the boy penning furious, impassioned prose about his plight as lone sensitive in a world full of wolves. Reason, or at least good taste, eventually prised him out of victim-consciousness and into alternative realms of literary inquiry. He read English Literature at the University of Brighton before travelling the world in search of answers to questions not yet posed. Africa, Asia, Australia and Europe will always be lovers he took and times he will never forget. His chequered career will baffle nobody more so than him. Bartender, waiter, cleaner, carer, painter and decorator and questionable actor. Each absurd and each sacred. He has promised a novel for perhaps seventeen years but insists it is almost complete. Every day he awaits the circus, and every day he is grateful.