…….as a writer. I can almost hear a sharp intake of breath from as I write this. Writers aren’t meant to fit in. We’re the…
I wrote recently about books I will never let out of my life, even though I have a passion for decluttering.
One of these is a childhood favourite, Lucy M. Boston’s The Children of Green Knowe. I was amazed to discover very recently that the house she lived in for more than fifty years, and that she drew on endlessly for the series, actually existed.
Away with you, impostor syndrome!
I am finally taking the step from writer to author – and what a week it’s been.
…and does it really matter?
I’ve been puzzling lately about what genre I write. The form I choose is usually short story or flash fiction, but the genre?
Writers are a bit like flowers, unfurling their polished prose or poetic petals in a bid to attract a passing bee.
So why do we need to classify what type of flower we are?
Reading is a bit like stepping into a Time Machine – we never know where the author’s going to take us.
One project I’m currently working on ( I call it a project because it’s too long for a short story, too short for a novel – tis neither flesh nor fowl ) involves four characters with intersecting timelines so I have post-it notes galore reminding me of just