I’m not feeling very well these days. Drained and fuzzy-headed all the time. Sometimes I wonder if you can over-extend your brain the way you can over-extend your muscles. It does actually often hurt when I am writing. Continue Reading »
I have redeemed myself by writing another thousand words today, but my pride is tentative at best. Why? Because already the hounds of doubt are nipping at my heels. Who would want to read this? I am starting to see my writing as a kind of athletic trial, like running a marathon. The thing is just to put one foot in front of the other. Yes, of course, and why is it that instead of a marathon I see in my mind’s eye the last doomed expedition of Robert Falcon Scott? Continue Reading »
Two things I have come to value during my time living in Europe.
Solitude, because it is so hard to find.
A smile, because it is so rare.
Today was not the worst of days. Last night I was up until half past four in the morning, but I did manage to write a thousand words. I was a little shocked by what came out. I seem to do my best work when I just start writing and do not have a clear idea beforehand where I am aiming to go. The work seems to get done in my sub-conscious and somehow is always better than things I labour over, trying to reach a specific outcome from the start. Now, that said, the thorny issue of future editing does come to mind! *wry face* I am encouraged though, having once read that Tanith Lee attacked her own novels in just the same way. There is something so intoxicating about having no idea what is going to happen next until it is on the page in front of you. Continue Reading »
When I first heard this, I thought of what it was to be a girl back in the 1970s. The bad/good thing is, the girl never really grows up and feels imprisoned in the body that no longer seems to be hers at all. Continue Reading »
I have a horrible time writing anything that I think someone else will read. I call that one hell of a misfortune for a writer. Stories spill and twist like a basket of serpents in my brain. They are alive. They fill my consciousness. But ask me to tell one? I cannot. I’ve never had stage fright in my life, but give me an empty page and I stand there in horror as though I were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Continue Reading »