I had a significant confidence wobble last night. I am not quite sure why, when I am so close to achieving my goal, as I can - finally - see the light at the end of the tunnel, I suddenly felt like a jellied mass with a blancmange for brains.
I was recently invited to write some free poetry WE PAW Bloggers E-zine — Issue 74. The subject was, 'things that inspire you, and' my contribution, with its innovative title, 'The Things That Inspire Me', proved to be a liberating experience. Poetry was my first love, but it has been several decades since I last wrote a poem,... Continue Reading →
This time last year I had started writing my COVID-19 DIARIES - Life Under the Cloud. Now, after a surreal twelve months, we are beginning to see the light at the end of the COVID-19 cloud. A glimmer of hope; our yellow brick road to recovery. Exciting times ahead, but it will be a gradual process, and some things can never quite be the same again.
The growing pains of a virgin novelist are real. It will be six years at the end of June since I started writing my first novel. At various intervals during that time, I celebrated reaching 'The End' but realised, after all that deluded carousing, writing a novel is more than just telling a story.
Shocking and appalling! The British Government think it is okay to palm NHS staff with a 1% pay rise! Please sign the petition to say you agree. I cannot begin to imagine what NHS staff have been through during the last 12 months. All the sacrifices they made in their own lives to save the... Continue Reading →
A chick, in my book, is a baby chicken covered in downy, yellow feathers up until the age of 6-weeks. I've always bristled when the term is applied to young women, and I have always subconsciously disassociated myself from Chick lit, believing the genre to be driven by scantily clad, sex-driven female main characters. I couldn't have been more wrong and, although I'm not a fan of categories, it's time to reassess the genre I think I've been writing in.
Following the joyful inauguration of the 46th U.S. President, Joe Biden, hundreds and thousands of overlayed images of Bernie Sanders started appearing everywhere, ridiculing the mittens he was wearing at the ceremony. It touched a nerve with me. For goodness sake, he is seventy-nine, it was 4C and blowing a howling bloody gale, but I'm guessing his hands were warmer than anybody else's. So, to whoever started circulating these memes, back off! You're not so funny!
As we live in surreal times, I decided to call today Tired Tuesday. It is the day after Blue Monday, the official name for the third Monday of each New Year, which apparently, has been noted as the most depressing day of any year - not just one plagued by a pandemic. Surprisingly, I felt quite upbeat, as for the first time in 2021, I felt like I had a wasp up my arse, for the whole day, until I ran out of steam...
Around 6.p.m. I kicked off my jog pants, showered, washed my hair and dolled myself up. Then, proudly wearing an outfit I had been given for Christmas, I took a stroll along the landing from the bedroom, looking longingly at the photos and prints, framed and hanging on the walls. The hibiscus. A watercolour from Barbados, prints from St. Lucia and a photo of us all embossed on to canvas splashing around in the sea in The Maldives. Treasured memories.
I dare to dream about spending time with the people I care about, without being 2 meters apart. I dare to dream about going out for a meal, or to the theatre - how I've missed the smell of the greasepaint - and listening to Little Black Dress cook up a storm in the Blue Note Bar with other live music lovers. I dare to dream about a change of scene - I used to write poetry, just as well I gave it up. I dare to dream about soaking up the sunshine somewhere with the gentle lapping of the sea in my ears, free to inhale the exhilarating, briny COVID-19-free air. Joy.
When writing fiction, creating characters has always been the fun part for me. Getting inside each character's head and shaping them into credible human beings for others to enjoy, love or hate.
It does bother me that I spend everyday writing, but never allow myself time to sit and read a book these days. But, I have decided to stop beating myself up about it because I do read. I read a lot, but not always in the good old-fashioned way. These days, thanks to the Internet, it is so easy to tap into a plethora of resources for literature, art and just about everything else... 24/7. So I quench my constant thirst for knowledge browsing the Net.
I have never been so emotionally involved in an American Presidential Election in my life but, since last Tuesday, I have been glued, as America's future teetered on a knife-edge, and I'm not even American. Thousands of miles away from America, the land of the free, we heard the news we were hoping for. We cried, imbibed and danced to Kool & The Gang's Celebration on our patio in the middle of our night waving sparklers in the air. The feeling of joy, as well as relief for a bunch of Brits thousands of miles away, was very real.
You’ll have written the synopsis, well, you have written hundreds of different versions of the damn thing which you don't think does your story justice, but you pick what you think is the best one and send it off with your query letter and wait. This is the point where you need to start managing your expectations. My carefully chosen mantra is rejection is not the end, although it might feel like it, it's just a step on the path.
As the world prepares themselves to face another major battle against the invisible killer, COVID-19, we all anxiously await the results of today’s US election, while willing Biden to cross the line with a clear majority. If he doesn’t, another Trump administration would be disastrous. More disruptive to U.S. foreign policy and world affairs than during the past four years. Think on. Think BBC TV’s Years and Years – a ghastly cliche in so many senses of the words.
Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you. Ruth Bader Ginsburg 15th March 1933 - 18th September 2020 https://youtu.be/DV3hBrtCoqw
The thought of writing a memoir had never crossed my mind. I've listened intently as members of my writers' group read from their life writings. One member decided to defy convention and sail around the world with her children. Another lived in India for years to learn the practice of Ayurveda, a form of traditional Indian medicine. Both amazing life experiences. But, consciously thinking about writing about my life experiences might not have occurred to me but, the fact was, I'd been doing it for years.