Wishing you a creative New Year!!!!!

What were you doing as the clock struck 12 midnight?

Were you writing? Painting? Playing the piano? Kissing?

There is an old superstition that says whatever you were doing at midnight on New Year's Eve, like pulling a face as the wind changes, you will be doing a lot of in 2011.

I was watching fireworks and thinking about writing, hoping that my new creative venture would take root and grow this year. I have too many ventures on the go and am determined that this year some of them will get the CHOP so I can concentrate on writing stories.

Try a bit of creativity on the net. Click the link below to see a WORDLE made up from a short story about a pink cat. It's great fun, just cut and paste a lump of text and see what happens - once the wordle magic has finished, you can delete words by right clicking on a word and choosing delete.

Have fun!!!!

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Cat Therapy

Animals are great for relieving stress. My two babies, Waffle and Muffin, love to lay on people's laps and be stroked and petted. People tell me they come to visit the cats, not to see me! They come for cat therapy. Around this time of year life can be a bit stressful...perhaps it's time to invest in a pet but remember an animal is for life and not just for Christmas!



MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM WAFFLE AND MUFFIN!!!!

Do you have a favourite place?

I love Charleston in Sussex, it is one of the most inspiring properties in all of England.

Writers, painters and intellectuals (the Bloomsbury Group) used to meet at Charleston. Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant lived and painted there - they decorated everything - the walls, the furniture, the doors and more. On a recent visit I took a few photos:











And this is a painting I recently finished:



(The original was by Vanessa Bell).

Writer's Block

What is writer's block?

Can't write, won't write? Writer's Block happens to everyone at some stage in their writing career. It has its roots based in fear, the I'm not good enough to write fear; the why on earth would anybody want to read what I've written; or I've written so much the vessel is empty - nothing left, all gone - I know NOTHING. Of course one can always write something; for example there is the writer's journal - forget about fiction for a few days - FORBID yourself to touch a drop of the fantasy stuff. You are only allowed to keep a journal - about anything and everything - what time the postman put the letters through the door - how he did that - shoved them in without care or rang the bell and said, 'Good morning, this package won't fit through the letterbox'. Try writing about the mundane stuff for a while - your imagination will soon be screaming for relief - TAKE ME AWAY FROM HERE, QUICK!

Of course there is another type of Writer's Block and this one is more worrying. It's the, I've got loads to say but no time to say it in. This is a sort of Writer's Block, it is linked to procrastination or that psychological word that means doing anything but writing: deflecting. The washing up, telephone calls, hoovering (yuk), sorting, filing, emptying bins. This sort of block is a little more worrying and it tends to happen to people without routine in their lives. For example, I know a published author who religiously sits at her desk everyday from 10am-2pm without fail - oh the green-eyed=monster just quipped: 'Well it's alright for her, she doesn't have to work.' It's true she doesn't have to go out to work but she does work, very hard everyday at her desk refusing to move until something is written on the page. And unfortunately there is no magic wand that will take those words in your head and get them down on the page without your help. You have to find some time and just sit there and write - even if it is on the train or bus on the way to work and back - that's a couple of hours a day, ten hours a week, forty hours a month and precisely five hundred twenty hours a year - which brings me to my next question: How long does it take to write a novel?

To a child dancing in the wind

(Painting by: Steve Hanks) Dance there upon the shore; 

What need have you to care 

For wind or water's roar? 

And tumble out your hair 

That the salt drops have wet; 

Being young you have not known 

The fool's triumph, nor yet Love lost as soon as won, 

Nor the best labourer dead 

And all the sheaves to bind. 

What need have you to dread 

The monstrous crying of the wind? 

 W.B. Yeats 

This poem reminds me of an old friend of mine who I met at university. He once said that he would buy me a little shack in Ireland where I could sit and write all day. He left me with a hole in my heart and I 've not seen him for many years. I hope he is happy and found the love he was looking for.