Creativity

I want to talk about creativity. It concerns one of the most asked questions of authors – where do you get your ideas from? I know it sounds like a cliché, but so many non-authors want to know how we can ‘come up with’ such devious, exciting and intricate plots for our novels.

And I think we all have a slightly different answer. “I get my best ideas when I’m in the shower / out walking / drunk on a Saturday night”; “some of my most well-received novels have been based on dreams / nightmares / the result of imbibing vast quantities of psychedelic drugs”; or the asinine “I don’t know, really – they just come to me when I’m sitting in my garden writing studio listening to the sounds of nature”.

Some of these may be true, but it’s not my version of truth.

Continue reading →
Share:

Swanwick!!!

Yes, three exclamation marks! August can only mean one thing – the summer writing school at [ Swanwick ]. Check out the details on their website.

It’s an amazing week. This will be my third year at Swanwick, and each year, I love it a little more!

Many superb courses and workshops, fascinating and entertaining after-dinner speakers, and loads and loads of fun!

Share:

New gig – Wrabfest

We’ve got a new gig – at [ Wrabfest ], a one-day festival in a village near to us. It is a huge affair, offering foodstalls, a beer tent, and two stages with acoustic and electric bands throughout the afternoon and evening. There’s something for everyone!

Including, of course, The Big Write, where we work with children to help them create stories aided by Ten Tin Tales, Story Trays, Story Cards and other helpful exercises.

Share:

Writing Retreat!

Oh my! It’s that time of year again – the time when I and the members of my writing group cast aside the shackles of normal life with its responsibilities and tedium, and head off for our writing retreat.

We spend the best part of four days together, writing, chatting, talking about writing, planning our writing, and generally relaxing in the luxurious surroundings of our own (temporary) manor house in the country!

Share:

Small Stone – 10th Dec 2014

A French-blue sky, blue as cobalt, azure-blue, blue as primula, as … the sky. Stretching from horizon to horizon. The sun, low and hazy, brings scant warmth, but its brightness bathes the land in defiance of incoming weather. A weather bomb, about to explode on our shores, bringing winds, rain, snow, and who knows what aftereffects. But for now, people are smiling, saying “good morning, lovely day.” Because it is. 

And it was. An amazingly blue sky, without a cloud in sight.

Share:

Small Stone – 9th Dec 2014

Fresh sand and clay piles high on the beach as a mini-waterfall splashes onto the sand. A tiny ‘swoosh’, and a huge lump of cliff releases itself and crashes milliseconds later in front of me. This is coastal erosion in action. I move nearer the sea.

The sandstone cliffs near to us are eroding at a rate of around 1-2m per year. It costs too much to protect it, so we’re watching it disappear before our very eyes.

Share:

Small Stone – 7th Dec 2014

The town beings to wake. A car creeps along slowly, as if unwilling to disturb the resident still hiding behind their curtains and blinds. Pedestrians, scarves wrapped around faces, their heads bowed as in reverent prayer. But their destination is not the church which, for the moment, has its doors closed, but the supermarket. Which has its doors very much open.

I went into town. And a comment on consumerism.

Share:

Small Stone – 6th Dec 2014

Cars file in. Seagulls swirl and swoop overhead, as people divest themselves of their unwanted stuff. I have some ‘difficult’ items, but find places for them to go. I listen for the shout of protest as the wrong sack gets emptied into the right bin, or vice versa. It’s anarchy on a very, very small scale. But there are no shouts of protest – the Guardians of the Recycling are inside their lair, refusing to come out into the cold. 

I went to the tip.

Share: