Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Friday, 19 November 2010
HorAce and Jemimina meet the Queen..
Not so very long ago in a land far fetched there lived a pair of tiny teeny hippopotameenie. Which all clever and right thinking people large and small know is the official word for more than one hippopotomouse. That's TERRUUE! We shall often call them micro hippos for short.ly.
Horace and Jemimina find a home
It's Children in Need day today, so I'll be back later with a little story about Horace and Jemimina our imaginary micro hippos, just for fun. Do something silly for Pudsey right now and while you're giggling share your good fortune with those children in need around the UK and the world - hug your brood closer, embarrass them with too much cuddling and then donate some cash a quid will be great twenty quid would be better.
We are the lucky ones.
We are the lucky ones.
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Friday, 12 November 2010
more from margy and the cake shop
I've been struggling with a little story, and the idea for this blog was always to put it all down on show - mainly for my own discipline to put it down on the page - but perhaps too, out of vanity and the hope that by exposing the process it might throw up some insight into how I will gain some level of mastery. Here then is some more of hte story, in draft and unworked through - clunky bits 'n all. In this bit we meet Vlad, the vampire baker (not his real name but he hasn't told me what it is yet...).
Thursday, 11 November 2010
writing and the subtle art of cleaning house
I've been a bit stuck of late and I thought I might share some unsticklish, in case it helps someone else. Doesn't matter if you are a blogger, short story writer, poet or bid writer, everyone needs a little unsticklish now and again.
Thursday, 4 November 2010
Been a bit distracted...
So here we are then. I set myself a target, and within a week or two I am failing spectacularly to meet it... I throw myself into a pink snit about my general uselessossity and my particular creative failings and before I know it I am habitually not doing the thing I most want to do...
It's too boring and too too shaming to go on about it - so I intend to simply pretend that this recent gap in the process has never happened. I did not get poorly, I did not spend way to long applying for a little job, I did not get distracted by decorating, cooking, mooching or crap telly. No no no no no - I was involved in some important research.
So while I was not managing to actually arrive at the page for some uninterrupted #mywriting I was in fact doing something jolly important. I was cogitating.
I know believe that what I need to do on a daily basis is cogitate. It's like meditating except you don't have to faff about with yanking your limbs into the lotus position, or demanding the whole household go into semi-shut down while you 'om' your way to inner knowledge and try to ignore the itch that has developed behind your ear - dangerously close to the usual nit site.
No cogitating is the go for all writers, mothers, people over 40 and anyone who needs to create a pause in their day - or if you are like me it's the comfy hiding place from the 'do-nothing' blues.
I no longer waste time staring out of the window, marvelling at the regimented front patio of the scowly lesbians across the road. No no, I am now cogitating. Buidling up characters in my head, wondering about what curtains, pictures, nick-nacks such a couple would have - noseying around their wheely bin for clues. From a safe distance in my imagination of course. I would never EVER actually rootle around in a neighbours bin to figure out what they eat for supper.
Hmm how would that be, if you started watching your neighbours and discovered they were up to something sinister. What exactly are they doing at 6.15 every night when the curtains get drawn.... I wonder ....
Hey I've just written my way out of a pickle and into a story ... you see this turn up and write lark might just work!
It's too boring and too too shaming to go on about it - so I intend to simply pretend that this recent gap in the process has never happened. I did not get poorly, I did not spend way to long applying for a little job, I did not get distracted by decorating, cooking, mooching or crap telly. No no no no no - I was involved in some important research.
So while I was not managing to actually arrive at the page for some uninterrupted #mywriting I was in fact doing something jolly important. I was cogitating.
I know believe that what I need to do on a daily basis is cogitate. It's like meditating except you don't have to faff about with yanking your limbs into the lotus position, or demanding the whole household go into semi-shut down while you 'om' your way to inner knowledge and try to ignore the itch that has developed behind your ear - dangerously close to the usual nit site.
No cogitating is the go for all writers, mothers, people over 40 and anyone who needs to create a pause in their day - or if you are like me it's the comfy hiding place from the 'do-nothing' blues.
I no longer waste time staring out of the window, marvelling at the regimented front patio of the scowly lesbians across the road. No no, I am now cogitating. Buidling up characters in my head, wondering about what curtains, pictures, nick-nacks such a couple would have - noseying around their wheely bin for clues. From a safe distance in my imagination of course. I would never EVER actually rootle around in a neighbours bin to figure out what they eat for supper.
Hmm how would that be, if you started watching your neighbours and discovered they were up to something sinister. What exactly are they doing at 6.15 every night when the curtains get drawn.... I wonder ....
Hey I've just written my way out of a pickle and into a story ... you see this turn up and write lark might just work!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)