I've had several emails telling me that new readers are following this blog. Which is fantastic but makes me guilty. For I'm aware that I haven't been faithful to my promise to post a new blog page each Saturday. OK, I've been away picking olives and when you're on a treadmill to get those olives … Continue reading A Writer’s Jigsaw Puzzle
Advice on how to maintain productivity in a writer’s life insists on the practice of regular writing. Whether you sit down for a session of free writing, have an outline or even a vague plan, the idea is to write something every day. Put the words on paper. Or, more probably, see the words on … Continue reading Disruptions to a Writer’s Life
Anyone out there who has read my memoir, The Baby Box, could be forgiven for assuming that I am an only child. One friend certainly did and said that being an only child explained why my mother was so harsh with me. No, my mother was harsh because I upset the middle-class, domestic apple-cart big … Continue reading Whose Memory?
Apologies for cribbing the contents of this post but my right hand is in a splint and typing is tricky. We have just enjoyed the Small Wonder Festival at Charleston, so-called because it is dedicated to short prose and fiction. This year, the sixth recipient of the only award to recognise long-standing creativity and achievement … Continue reading Small Wonder Festival at Charleston
Before I became a child who watched television, I was familiar with lines of speech. Both my parents were keen am-drams. I was holding a script, hearing them say their lines, as soon as I could read. As an adult, I’m a great film goer. I love the instant action, the drama which can be … Continue reading To Tag or not
One of the delights of returning to the same house each summer is finding books which are old favourites. Looking for a book to read I found Jane Gardam’s A Long Way to Verona. Great! Because the novel is told by a child narrator and the next draft novel I have to consider and re-write … Continue reading Child Narrators (2)
Holidays are odd, aren’t they? When I was a child we had an annual holiday of a week by the sea. To begin with we stayed with my maternal grandmother – making accommodation free – three of us sleeping in the same double bed, swimming in the grey waters of the English Channel, sitting on … Continue reading Holidays
