This interview with the writer of a novel based on the secret life of Agatha Christie gives me heart: In December 1926, Agatha Christie, already the famous author of several detective novels, disappeared for eleven days. The press and the public were agog as a massive investigation employing more t… Source: Interview with Kristel Thornell, author of On The Blue Train
These tips from a New York based writer could equally apply to my Randwick Writers’ Group. Reblogged from Lee Kofman at leekofman.com.au Guest post by Tracy Sayre Over the years I’ve learned a lot about what works and doesn’t work in writers’ groups. Here’s a list of my top ten tips. 1.Find the group. Facebook is a great place to start. Post a message that you want to begin a writers’ group and you’ll be amazed by how many of your friends harbor a desire to write. Alternatively, you can contact bookstores, colleges, and libraries to ask if they know of a group you can join. There are also websites like Meetup.com that have information on local writers’ groups. 2.Keep it small. I think the best size for a group is 4 people. If it’s smaller, you won’t get varied feedback, if it’s larger, you spend too much time reading other people’s work. I’ve also found with larger groups people tend to cancel last minute because they don’t feel like their attendance matters that much. 3.Plan ahead. One of the worst things you can do is leave the schedule vague. We all dread that never-ending email chain where everyone’s rescheduling. From the beginning, decide when you’re going to meet, for instance every other Tuesday at 7 pm, and stick to it. youa 4.Set the format. Determine if you want to read the pieces out loud at the meeting, or if everyone […]
These are some tongue-in-cheek non-rules which are even harder to follow than the real ones! Adapted from Elizabeth Percer’s article, Harper, March 25 2016 1. Don’t write a novel Every time I sit down to write a novel, I get next to nothing done. You may write 79,000 words and realize in the last 1,000 that the novel is not what […]
The following excerpt is from a novel, as yet unpublished, by a member of Waverley Writers of F.O.W.L. Maureen would appreciate feedback from readers of this Blog. Please add any comments in the ‘Comments’ section, or on Facebook. wikipedia. Colorado Springs, Colorado. EvanS THE ROCK by Maureen Mendelowitz There is a rocky ledge that leans over the sea at Llandudno. It juts out on three sides, exposed to the changing shades of ocean and sky, the blues, the greys, the oranges and reds of sunset, and the pale violet hues of early dawn. It is a hidden place. A steep flight of steps hewn from rock leads down from the road to a pristine crescent of white beach. At the far end a pile of huge boulders are piled and lean haphazardly, one against the other. The rock is beyond the boulders. It is comfortable, flat and smooth. Below is nothing but the wide ocean – above, the wide skies. The sunrise sometimes bathes it in crimson hues, and sometimes it is fiery in the red flames of sunset. But in the dark of night its surface hardens in the glittering sparkle of stars and the moon etches its compact layers in a strong beam of white light. The rock is difficult to find. There are only small spaces and narrow crevices to crawl through – a secret rock – hidden behind an ominous outcrop of huge boulders that signals the end […]
This is so true, of all creative activity, including writing. Nothing is scarier than facing that empty page or screen with a deadline looming. See my post on ‘In the Zone ‘ for more thoughts on harnessing that creativity. See below: Re-blogged from songsbybriar:
WELCOME TO MY BLOG, A FORUM FOR READERS AND WRITERS Please feel free to navigate at your leisure, and I hope pleasure, throughout this Blog. This is how: If you want to know more about me, click on ‘ABOUT ME’ on the horizontal Menu Bar. To see my latest posts, click on POSTS on the menu bar, and scroll down, ad infinitum (there are older blogs there if you keep scrolling). To read bits of my my upcoming novel ‘Capriccio‘, click on EXCERPTS on the menu bar. ‘ Capriccio’ can mean ‘whimsical’ (at the whim of fate) and ‘horror’ ( literally ‘hair standing on end’ in ‘Old Italian.) Both Fate and Horror are major themes in my novel, which is a work of fiction based closely on fact. My title comes from a series of 20 poems by Ted Hughes, published in 1990 in a limited print run. They deal with his relationship with Assia Wevill, the woman for whom he left Sylvia Plath. Watch this space for excerpts! I am also convenor of the Randwick Writers’ Group, a locally based forum, limited to five members, who meet fortnightly in each others’ homes. The feedback we give each other is meticulous and constructive, and has been invaluable to me in completing my manuscript. DISCLAIMER: All posts, including photographs, artwork, and writings, on this site, are protected by copyright.© DIna Davis 2015
I practice yoga at home most mornings, wherever I happen to be. My practice is rather eclectic, comprising Japanese Tibetan and Iyengar yoga, and lasts anywhere between twenty and forty-five minutes. Even a short practice gives me a feeling of being centered and ready for the day. I always finish my yoga practice feeling both energised and relaxed.I once devised a sequence of asanas, which can be practiced on a boat, which presented major challenges in terms of space and stability. It’s amazing how these challenges can be met, even on a boat rocking on its moorings.
Note: This chapter comes half way through the novel. Assia has returned from a clandestine trip to Spain with her lover, Ted Hughes. She and her husband are on a holiday in Germany, when Assia discovers she’s pregnant. Chapter 13. SHIBBOLETH Germany, October 1962 The countryside in autumn was beautiful; in the forest, russet and gold leaves quivered on the great pine trees, standing tall and straight like sentinels. After picnicking in the shaded woods on dark pumpernickel bread, and cream cheese with paprika, their walk had slowed. It was getting dark, and both of them were weary. Towards nightfall they reached a pretty little township, straight out of Hansel and Gretel. Assia felt at home in this rural village, as if she’d returned to the enchanted life of her early childhood, when she was protected by her mother, adored by her father, and cossetted by her German grandparents. She felt faint, and in spite of her fears, protective of the tiny life that might be growing inside her. Her body craved rest. She imagined sinking into clean white sheets under an eiderdown filled with soft goose feathers. ‘Let’s stay here tonight, darling. I’m worn out, and that little gasthaus we passed just now looks so welcoming. Not nearly as dilapidated as some of the houses here. I remember those little inns, like our bed-and-breakfast cottages in England. Vati and Mutti used to take me and Cissy to little gasthausen […]
A Link to Ein Gedi Was Hughes personifying his lover, Assia Wevill, as the mythical Leopard? In many of the poems in his sequence, ‘Capriccio’, from which I’ve taken the title of my novel-in-progress, he describes Assia as a predatory animal, yet sometimes he’s tender too.