I woke up with an itch to make a coconut cake on December 27 or 28. With everything overflowing with food because of the holidays I decided to postpone the cake, not least because I’d probably be the only one eating it. I have the mixed fortune of living with people for whom “Cake I like” rhymes with “Chocolate” and while they would pay their respects to my coconut creation that would be as far as they’d go. Continue reading The Accidental Cake
I failed to make any resolutions for the new year this, that is last, year. I had no time. Unlike 2018, when I had time for as many as nineteen NY resolutions, in 2019 I turned out to be too busy. Also, I decided that NY resolutions are stupid. Of course I never kept all of those nineteen resolutions in made for 2019. But I have plans for the new year. I have plans all right. Continue reading Persimmon Jam and a Goat
Let me see now. The last time I worked in a physical office was in 2014. I couldn’t miss it less but I do have some nice memories of the chats we had during lunch breaks. Now, all the chats I have are online, which is fine because I’d rather write than speak anyway. Continue reading If Writing Was an Office Job
“It’s never too late” is a piece of advice we’ve all heard. It’s the go-to, all-purpose encouragement chant. Well, that chant is wrong. It’s also counterproductive. Continue reading “It’s Never Too Late”? Wrong.
I recently discovered some writers enjoy editing. I’m sure there must be something wrong with them because editing essentially means fixing mistakes you’ve made. Do any of us like to be faced with their mistakes? Certainly not. So, enjoying editing must be a form of masochism. Or self-flagellation, perhaps. In any case, it is not supposed to be pleasant in the normal way. Unless you crack the code, that is. Continue reading Cracking the Edit Code
Yesterday, I sat in the kitchen with my notebook and my pen with the rubber zombie head cap, jotting down notes for the next chapter in the second draft of what I’m tentatively calling A Hunter of Dreams. it sounds a bit cheesy, I know. Possibly a lot. But as I sat there and made my main character stuff herself with fried chicken and garlic bread in anticipation of a torturous death I realised I was thinking about her as a real person. I thought about all of them as real people. Continue reading An idea. A face.
It’s been a while since I’ve blogged. The nice reason it’s been a while is that I’ve been busy writing the third and final draft of something like a sequel to The Lamiastriga that is currently named Second Skin. As far as I’m concerned it will be the final name, courtesy of a friend who should be an editor but isn’t. The not so nice reason it’s been a while is that I’ve also been busy worrying if my writing is any good. Continue reading A Lower State of Consciousness