It’s funny how, when you set your mind to something, all the right things appear, happen, fall into place, and show that really you’re on the right track.
They say there’s no such thing as coincidence, which is why – when I was thinking of the power of writing in its ability to heal, and how I can work with other people to tap into that power – I get included in an online group called Continue reading
Not writing is like a shadow on my shoulder, always projecting itself in front of or behind me; always making me aware of its dark, pressured presence.
Not writing feels like I’m cheating myself of something.
Not writing and pretending that life is OK without writing is being in denial about my true life force, and what sustains me.
Not writing means missing out on Continue reading
I was touched to read an article by the author of Parentless Parents, Allison Gilbert, about how writing about grief, loss and mourning had made her happier. Touched because I have also lost my parents (my father to cancer; my mother has dementia and no longer knows she has a daughter), and also inspired, because I could use my experiences to write so much more about healing after bereavement.
I wrote an 80,000 word memoir about my dad, eight years after he died. I got up at 6 every morning to write 1000 words of stream of consciousness. The process made me feel
closer to him, less afraid of my feelings, and resolute in capturing a piece of him that was lost forever. I had never planned to publish this memoir, but I know I can turn to it when I need to. And I have a sense of achievement: I have completed a memoir, even though I haven’t yet completed my novel.
Even perfectly open tulips have their shadow.
The sun was out in south London today. So were the tulip petals in my front garden. But such a thing of beauty has such a pronounced shadow, which is perhaps more bewitching than the flower itself.
I guess every person who looks at this photo will make his or her own interpretation of it. What perturbs me is that the raised arm on the right of the shadow could be cheering on the tulip for showing off her beauty. However, it could also be a persecutory gesture, an angry hand about to rain down blows to fracture the fragility of the tulip’s petals; to let rip because the tulip was audacious enough to turn its face to the sun and show its true, radiant beauty.
I wonder which one it is?
I was furious with someone today. On my high horse, I sat down at my laptop and trotted out an email, imperiously setting out why I was right and they were wrong. As the rage flew from the keys, I felt so much better about the entire issue.
I was just about to press ‘send’ in triumph when I paused, took a breath, and pressed save instead. Might I regret it – big time – if I sent it?
It reminded me that Continue reading
Is there a fascination about people who write in public? Maybe a narcissistic perception that someone on a train writing things down must obviously be writing about YOU?
Well, maybe. Train journeys can be irritating for all kinds of reasons – but I have to keep reminding myself that there may be something about the laddish conversations, the take-away food odours, or the man beside me who keeps sucking his teeth, which could suggest a character trait or a nightmare sequence in my novel.
The only challenge, I guess, is to hide the observations I’m making in my notebook from the woman beside me with bad breath and fleshy elbows.
When I’m doing creative writing, or even writing a news story or report, I can’t let anything get in the way: not a keyboard that sticks, not a noise in the room that’s annoying, and certainly not a font that’s distracting.
The only font I can use to create is Times New Roman 12pt. Anything else takes up for too much attention and gets in the way of what I’m trying to say – like driving a car and consciously having to think about which gear I’m in.
However, for writers who can’t make up their minds which font to use – for fear it might convey the wrong message – there is a phenomenon called Continue reading
Happy Mother's Day.
I was woken far too early this morning by my bouncy seven-year old daughter, desperate for me to open my Mother’s Day cards and presents. While I wanted a lie-in, it felt exquisite to feel so loved and remembered. I felt special.
A couple of days before, I had debated whether to send my own mother a card; debated, because she has dementia and denies ever having had children, and wouldn’t know who the card was from anyway.
My daughter said to me: “Will she remember us?” I said: “No, but Continue reading
On Radio 4’s Today programme this morning, I heard Monica Ali, author of The Untold Story, having to defend the fact she has written a commercially viable novel.
OK, so the ‘what if’ plot focuses on the imaginary scenario of Princess Diana having faked her death to escape media attention. And, from a marketing point of view, this is perfectly timed – what with the royal wedding of William and Kate a months away. Some of the commentators were shocked that the author of literary, character-driven novel Brick Lane could descend to such depths as writing popular fiction, and that it would “be hard to take the literary hard ground after a book like this”.
Monica responded in the Today interview by saying Continue reading
A worry shared is meant to be a worry halved, but apparently writing down your worries on paper can help ease anxiety and prevent the memory getting blocked (especially before an exam).
Expressive writing – where people can let their problems spill out onto the page, and is known to have psychological benefits in terms of making it easier to cope with issues – is just one of the techniques used by teachers in Washington County to help students deal with test anxiety.
The study tested students about to take their high-school final exams, asking those with high anxiety to write down their fears for 10 minutes before the test. The students who did the writing outperformed their non-writing peers in the test by Continue reading
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